“Such things, Mrs. Greedy?” Tilly reiterated, sounding dimwitted, but after what she’d just been through, her mind was all over the place.
“Well, we’ve discussed it, the other ladies and I, and we think you should hold lectures in The Iris,” Violet said.
“Lectures?”
“Yes, lectures,” her friend said with more force, which Tilly was sure was meant to jog her memory. It didn’t.
“Things are changing, Miss Wilson, and you’re at the forefront of that with your club,” Mrs. Greedy said, then sucked her lips into her mouth again. “We thought perhaps getting a lawyer in to offer useful information and answerquestions. Also, someone you may know who runs their own finances?”
“Well, I think that all sounds wonderful, don’t you, Tilly?”
“Oh, indeed,” she said when Violet jabbed a pointy elbow into her side.
Mrs. Greedy smiled, looking ten years younger. “Excellent.” She then wandered off.
“Are you all right, Tilly?” Violet whispered. “It is not like you to be so vague.”
“Yes. I just have some things on my mind, but I think her ideas were sound, don’t you?”
“Very much so, and Cyn has already put her hand up to come and speak about managing finances and investment opportunities.”
Her eyes went to the beautiful woman seated between Tabitha Varney and Lady Sinclair. Cyn, who was actually Lady Seddon, had lived alone and managed her late husband’s finances for many years before she married into the Nightingale family.
“That’s very kind of her.”
“Right. Well, we shall make up a roster for speakers, and the information board is another excellent idea. I’ll make notes,” Violet said before walking away to rejoin the others.
“I’d be grateful!” Tilly called after her. She really needed to shake the fog from her brain, but so much had happened today, and it was not even afternoon. She was struggling to make sense of it all. But she was not ready to discuss any of it yet. Not even with Violet.
Looking to the doorway, she saw two more women enter and gritted her teeth to stop her mouth falling open. Lady Crisp and her daughter were here with Ellen Fletcher.
Tilly shot Ellen a look, her brow raised. Her friend shrugged.
“Lady Crisp,” she said as she moved to join them, then dropped into a curtsy.
“Miss Wilson,” Lady Crisp acknowledged her. “We wish to join your little club.”
The way she said “little” wasn’t exactly dismissive, but it was close. The Crisp women were snobs. They barely acknowledged her at social functions and spoke loudly about people, hoping others would overhear them. Self-important, puffed-up shrews, Violet had called them. Tilly couldn’t understand their motivation for seeking membership in her club. It made absolutely no sense, especially considering Lady Crisp’s husband often made his thoughts clear about women stepping outside what he considered their place in society.
“That’s very kind of you, but can you tell us why?” Tilly asked, shooting Ellen another look, which brought her friend to her side. Ellen then put her arm through Tilly’s.
The question clearly surprised the woman, no doubt because few people would challenge her, as her husband was a viscount.
Mother and daughter shared a look, clearly at a loss for words, as an awkward silence settled over them.
“You’ll forgive me for asking, but it is a question we put to all new members,” Tilly lied. “But you have to understand, it is important all members of The Iris Club feel comfortable here.”
“And you do not believe I will be capable of that?” Lady Crisp snapped.
“Frankly, no,” Tilly said, and felt Ellen tense beside her. “But I will put your name on the waitlist because at the moment we are full, but if your wish to become an Iris lady is genuine, then we will of course be pleased to have you join us, once a spot opens up.”
“I think you are lying,” Lady Crisp declared. “Your club cannot be full so quickly.”
“I assure you I am not,” Tilly lied.
“I rescind my request!” the woman declared in a shrill tone. “You should be honored that one such as I would even grace this doorstep. But then, a plain little thing like you has never been worthy of our time. Your parents are odd, as are you. Come, Lucretia, we will leave.”
“But Father?—”
