With their help, Tilly had worked hard to make this building everything they wanted it to be. Three parlors, all named after flowers, offered small spaces for those needing quiet. The library was full of everything from poetry to romantic novels and tomes on astrology. The dining room was yet another place to sit and chat while eating or taking tea. There was also a card room and upstairs accommodations for anyone in need.
When a woman stepped from her house, she was on display. Her hair, her clothes, the way she carried herself or spoke. But not here. Here she could be herself.
“Thank you for that, Margaret. I’m so pleased you applied to work at The Iris,” Tilly said, meaning every word.
“Thank you, Miss Wilson. I’m very happy here.”
The words were a gold star for Tilly from the woman who rarely spoke more than a sentence at a time.
“Now if there is nothing else you need, I will be on my way, but please call if you require anything further from me.”
The tap of Margaret’s boots faded, and Tilly stepped through the doorway to her right. Beyond it was a smalloffice for Margaret and Tilly—or anyone else who needed it—to use.
The Pavlov fortune had changed her life in many ways. Not that it was terrible before they’d found it, but now, with The Iris Club, she could really do some good, or hoped to.
After removing her outer clothing and hanging it on the hooks in here, she stepped back out into the entranceway and came to a halt under the huge gilt frame. Looking up, she read the words and felt the rush of pride.
The Iris Club. Founding Charter and Declaration. Its symbol shall be the purple iris, representing wisdom, courage, and the quiet strength of those who persist. The Club's colors shall be violet and gold and its motto “She blooms in her own season.”
We, the founding members of The Iris Club, do hereby set forth this Charter in the belief that women of all walks of life, and character are deserving of a place of their own—a house of warm fellowship, quiet contemplation, and earnest endeavor.
She, Violet, and the Nightingale women had created this, and when she looked at it, she always felt the sting of tears. Unlike some, she’d been raised by forward-thinking parents who had allowed her freedom—to a point. There were still restrictions, but she was not as constrained as many.
The door behind her opened, and she turned to find Lord Talbot’s three sisters.
“Thankfully, he’s gone now. I’d quite given up hope Charles could lure Ambrose away,” Violet said. “I hope he wasn’t too rude, Tilly. We saw him talking to you before you came back inside. Are you all right after your fall?”
“I am, thank you.” In fact, her wrist ached, but she wouldn’t tell them that.
Tilly and Violet had been friends since entering society together. With her were her older sisters. Clarissa Althorp, or Cissa as she was known to her siblings, was the second oldest and the most uneven-tempered. She was volatile,beautiful, and outspoken. She was also engaged to Lord Halston.
The eldest was Octavia, and unlike the other siblings, she had red-gold hair and a sweet nature. Violet had once told Tilly that Tavi, as they called her, was the Althorp most likely to mediate an argument rather than inflame it.
In a flurry of movement, the women removed their outer clothing.
“So am I to understand you waited for your brother to stop berating me rather than step from your carriage and into his line of sight?” Tilly asked.
“Of course. We knew you could hold your own and that he’d just try to persuade us to leave, and we didn’t want to argue with him,” Violet said.
At least they hadn’t seen those two men confronting her, because all three women would have come to her aid then and would have had to deal with their horrid brother’s disapproval over making a scene.
“I love this place,” Clarissa said, clapping her hands. “When I first stepped inside, it felt like taking off a bonnet that had the ribbons tied too tight.”
“Freeing,” Octavia agreed. “Of course, Mother will have conniptions should she learn we are here again—or at all—but we shall just have to continue to be devious.”
“Which is made a great deal easier now you’ve married Charles, Pixie. We have a decoy,” Clarissa added, looking at Violet. Pixie was the nickname they’d given her as a child. “And when I am married next month, mother will have no say in what I do.”
“What about your husband?” Violet drawled.
Clarissa waved a hand about. “He will not mind, as he dotes on me.”
Tilly choked down the emotion she was feeling, the purejoy of having their own club to be exactly who they wanted to be, and knowing these women felt the same.
“Oh, and some of the Crabbett Close residents are wondering if you have a spare room they could use for knitting club,” Violet said. “Mavis Johns told me the elderly feel the change in weather terribly if they meet outside, especially Miss Alvin and Mrs. Greedy. Mr. Greedy was a little miffed he couldn’t attend, but as I told him, this is what women have been facing for years.”
Everyone nodded at that.
“I think they will call upon you today, so brace yourself,” Violet said.
