From behind her, a woman’s voice inquired, “Dare I ask why you are here?” The words carried a hint of a French accent.
Simone turned in her seat to face a dark-haired woman of slender build. She was older than her, but she hadn’t reached an age where wrinkles had marked her features. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a low chignon, and she wore a simple cotton gown. Suspicion lingered in her eyes, a subtle detail Simone couldn’t ignore.
“I have come to participate in a lively debate,” Simone replied.
“Women do not debate politics,” the woman remarked.
Simone nodded. “True, but I heard that this place was different,” she responded. “I was under the impression that a woman had a voice here.”
“Does a woman have a voice anywhere?” the woman questioned.
“I hope so,” Simone said. “There is nothing more damning than a Society that turns a blind eye to the suffering of women.”
The woman seemed to study her before gesturing towards a chair. “May I?”
“Please,” Simone replied.
As she moved around to sit, the woman said, “My name is Juliette, and I find you to be rather intriguing. Women of your class do not usually frequent pubs. Nor are they escorted by such a handsome gentleman.”
“He is just my friend,” Simone replied.
With a glance at Caleb at the bar, Juliette said, “This is a dangerous place for you two. I would recommend you leave and never come back.”
“I thank you for your concern, but we are more than capable of taking care of ourselves,” Simone responded.
Juliette tsked. “You could just as easily be robbed in here than served the watered-down ale.”
“I don’t drink the ale,” Simone said. “Why, pray tell, are you here if it is so dangerous?”
She put her hands up. “These are my people. They wouldn’t harm me.”
“Your people?” Simone inquired. “But you are French, are you not?”
“I am, but we are like-minded individuals, making them ‘my people,’” Juliette explained. “Go home to your fancy townhouse and be tended to by your servants. Leave the serious business to the people who can handle it.”
“Like you?”
Juliette nodded affirmatively. “I am one of those people.”
“What if I told you that I was one of those people, as well?” Simone asked.
Leaning her head back, Juliette released a laugh. “Thankyou. I needed a good laugh today.” She rose from her chair. “Go home, my lady.”
“I am not a lady,” Simone said.
“You look like one and act like one,” Juliette observed.
Simone maintained her gaze. “Looks can be deceiving, but I would prefer if you called me Simone.”
A smile came to Juliette’s lips. “I can’t help but wonder if you are delusional, but I’m intrigued,” she said. “What is it that you want?”
Glancing at the closed door, Simone replied, “I wish to go into the back room.”
“Why?” Juliette asked. “There is nothing for you there.”
Simone had an idea of what was being discussed in the back room. No doubt it was treasonous in nature. “I want to do more than sit in a drawing room and practice my needlework. I can do more to help the people that are suffering,” she asserted.
“What are you willing to do?” Juliette asked.
