It really was a bit unseemly.
“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” he asked, speaking for my ears alone.
“Lord Cumber—”
“Call me Reggie, please. All my close acquaintances do.”
I could feel myself becoming fidgety, so I repositioned myself in the seat. “Really,” I said just as quietly, hoping not to incense Mother, praying that the noise inside the opera house would drown out our words. “We are hardly close acquaintances. We’ve only just met.”
“I would very much like to change that.” He leaned close to me—dangerously close. If he came any closer, people would surely talk. It was one thing to lean in to share a comment or observation, but another entirely tostayclose. “Won’t you allow me the privilege, Anna?”
My hair stood on end along my neck. I found myself leaning away from him until Mother grunted under her breath and I realized I was crowding her.
“Lord Cumberland,” I said, trying to start over, wishing to dissuade him from his pursuit once and for all. “I am honored by your request, however—”
“Anna would love the privilege,” Mother said on my other side.
Heat infused my cheeks. This was hardly the time or the place to have this conversation with her—or him.
“Unfortunately,” I said, “I don’t know how long we will be in London.”
“We’ll be here as long as it takes.” Mother gave me a warning glare. She had brought up Edith’s name again that morning when I protested Lord Cumberland’s invitation to the museum. Any time we passed beggars on the streets, she gave me a pointed look. My friend’s fate lay in my trembling hands.
“I was under the impression that you were here to stay indefinitely.” Lord Cumberland sat upright in his chair, allowing me a bit more room to breathe. “Lady Paget was quite adamant about your desire to live in England permanently, should the opportunity arise.”
This was my chance to convince him I did not want to be his wife. I had not anticipated this conversation so soon or in such a public place, but who would hear?
“I do not know what gave her that idea.” I tried to laugh off my comment, appearing to be oblivious to my mother and Lady Paget’s plans. “I am quite content with my life in America. Do you know, Lord Cumberland, that I have marched in several parades for women’s suffrage? And I serve, whenever possible, at settlement houses? I miss my work at home and long to return. I hope to be back before the summer ends.”
“I did not know.” He looked straight ahead. I had surprised him—though whether it was with my disinterest in remaining in England or with my causes, I wasn’t certain. “Mrs. Asquith is quite vocal about her opposition to women voting,” he continued. “She was pleased when the House of Lords recently rejected the Women’s Suffrage Bill. She, like myself, believes women have no sound reason, have very little humor, and are not honorable enough to vote.”
My mouth fell open. It was one thing to hear a man say such things, but far worse to hear that a woman agreed. And the prime minister’s wife, no less!
“Anna is being glib,” Mother said quickly, her voice rising a notch. “She’s trying to be coy, though both she and I long for her to find a place here in England. America is too”—she shuddered—“progressive and vulgar. She yearns for the traditions and ceremonies of a more genteel society.”
I stared at Mother, trying to communicate my frustration with my eyes. I wasn’t sure what made me more upset: Mother’s eternal desire to present me as someone I was not or LordCumberland’s comments about Mrs. Asquith’s beliefs about women.
“There is work to be done, both here and in America,” Mother continued, taking my hand in an unfamiliar show of affection. She petted it, as if I were in need of comfort. “Her heart is sensitive to those in need, and I’ve long thought her suitable for someone who desires to serve the public’s greater good.”
Lord Cumberland seemed mollified by Mother’s comments. His smile lifted his mustache as he turned to me. “I’ve thought the same about you, Anna. From what I’ve heard and witnessed, you would make a fine politician’s wife. Mrs. Asquith, who is an expert on such matters, quite agrees with me. The American women in my acquaintance have been well-received by the masses, even if they are a little more outspoken than I would like. You’re beautiful, accomplished, and have an unsullied reputation. Perhaps your head has been turned by the fervor of the suffrage movement in America, but you’re young and, I hope, trainable. I do believe you possess all the qualities a man in my position could want.”
I tried not to frown—tried to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about—but it was painfully clear. He didn’t need—or want—to get to know me but had already determined that I would be a suitable match, malleable to his purposes.
It didn’t hurt that I would come with a substantial dowry to save his ancestral home. No doubtthatwas my greatest qualification.
I needed to shock him into his place. “I would make a terrible politician’s wife. My concern for suffrage will not end upon my marriage.”
Mother squeezed my hand so hard that I cried out in pain and pulled it away.
But Lord Cumberland did not seem to notice—or care. “Your humility is yet one more quality I admire.”
The lights began to dim, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I prayed that this conversation was over and that Lord Cumberland would think about the things I had said before he tried to revive it.
“You’re a fool,” Mother hissed in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear as I stared at the stage. “You will find no other man as worthy as the Marquess of Cumberland.”
I did not respond to her, my insides crawling with revulsion, even as her words ate at my heart. It hurt to hear her call me a fool or any of the other things she’d called me over the years. I tried to be impervious to her opinions and insults, but it was impossible. Despite all the pain she had caused, I wanted to please her, just as I wanted to please Mama. It was part of my nature.
The opening scene of the opera began in a French flat with four artists struggling to make ends meet in 1830. My heart was not in the opera or the evening. All I could think about was Williamsburg and Mama. How different my life would be if I’d been given a mother like her in this path. She had worked so hard with me to print and distribute the broadside for the burgesses. Governor Dunmore had not yet received the news, but he was expected back in the capital on the morrow and would surely react to the resolution. What would he do?
