Page 1 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
Chapter
One
ROSEHAVEN HOUSE, LONDON
APRIL 1889
THE SOCIETY FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF WOMEN
The members of the Society for the Advancement of Women had assembled in the Rosehaven House drawing room to hear the long-awaited response from the House of Lords.
Sofas, settees, and wingbacks had been rearranged into clusters, sunlight spilling across the carpet in golden stripes, though no one spared a glance for the view. I stood behind my makeshift podium—a small round table usually reserved for flowers—my notes stacked neatly before me.
“We have received word regarding our petition for woman suffrage,” I announced. “I’m sorry to report it has been rejected.”
As expected, the room erupted in a flurry of indignation, whispered outrage, sharp gasps, and the furious snapping of fans. Even Lady Anne let slip a rather unladylike oath—hercomfortable spinster’s fortune affording her the freedom to swear when she pleased.
“Pray tell,” Lady Pembroke inquired coolly, “what reason did they give?”
“We are, according to them, already represented by the Lords themselves.”
“What poppycock!” Lady Hale’s voice cracked like a whip. “As if the gentlemen in our families know the first thing about what it means to be female.”
“Hardly,” Lady Pembroke said with a dry snort. “Half the peers I know wouldn’t consult their wives on the color of the dining room wallpaper, let alone on legislation.”
I couldn’t have staged a better beginning if I’d tried.
“Quite,” I said. “This rejection of our firmly held beliefs is but a setback which we’ll use to strengthen our resolve,” I said firmly. “We need to show them—clearly, forcefully—that women’s experiences arenotidentical to their husbands’, their fathers’. That no man, no matter how well-meaning, can fully represent a woman’s voice in Parliament.”
Lady Hale’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of determination lighting behind the frustration.
I drew in a slow, steadying breath. “They may not take us seriously now. But next year, they will.”
Lady Pembroke shot me a sharp glance. “And how will we manage that?”
“We show them that women are not passive extensions of their husbands. That we differ from the men in our families—in thought, in conviction, in experience. And we make it clear that no man can fully represent what it means to be a woman in this country without espousing our point of view. Not in the courts, not in the factories, and most particularly, not in Parliament.”
Lady Bellamy pressed a hand to her chest, a flicker of hope lighting her expression. “You really think we can shift their thinking?”
“We have to,” I said firmly. “Next year, we’ll meet their excuses head-on. We won’t let them turn us aside so easily.”
Lady Whitworth, flushed with indignation, burst out from the edge of a settee. “But what’s to say they won’t just come up with yet another excuse? Why, my Wilbur says a woman’s place is in the home, minding her children, not at the ballot box. How are we supposed to convince men like him?”
I offered her a faint, steady smile. “We will revise our petition, sharpen our arguments, and most importantly, we will build new alliances. Men listen to other men. We must identify the Lords who are sympathetic to our cause—men who carry weight in the House of Lords and convince them to espouse our cause.”
“Such as the Duke of Steele?” Lady Yarmouth quipped, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. A recent addition to the Society, she seemed more interested in gossip than the advancement of women’s issues.
I ignored the bait. “And others like him.”
From her armchair near the fire, Mrs. Gresham gave a soft, disdainful sniff, folding her hands with exacting care. “We’ll all be gray-haired before they ever listen.”
“Speak for yourself,” murmured the Dowager Countess of Sheffield, drawing notice to her silver hair gleaming softly in the lamplight. A ripple of gentle laughter ran through the room, easing the tension, though only slightly.
“I suggest we form a strategy committee,” I continued, sliding a blank sheet of paper toward the front of the table and setting a pencil beside it. “Those who would like to contribute to this effort, please jot your names down. Lady Hale, would you be willing to chair the committee?”
“With pleasure,” she said at once.
“Thank you. And Lady Bellamy, would you co-chair it?”
