Valerie Hansen - Rescuing the Heiress

“I can and I will,” Tess insisted. “If you won’t escort us, then we’ll go alone.”

His jaw gaped for a moment before he snapped it shut. “I almost believe you.”

“You’d best do so, sir, because I mean every word.”

Looking to his mother, Michael saw her struggling to subdue a smirk. That was a fine kettle of fish. His own ma was evidently siding with the younger women. What was this world coming to? Didn’t they know their place? Hadn’t men been taking good care of women like them for untold generations?

Sure there was the problem of widows and orphans, but there were benevolent societies to provide for those needs. The last thing San Francisco—or the entire nation—needed was to give women a say in politics. No telling where a mistake like that would eventually lead.

“I can’t understand why you feel so strongly about this, Miss Tess. I’ve known you ever since my mother came to work here and I’ve never noticed such unreasonableness.”

“It isn’t unreasonable to want to hear the facts explained by one of the movement’s leaders,” Tess said.

Seeing the jut of her chin and the rigidity of her spine, he was convinced that she was serious so he tried another approach. “It could be dangerous. There have been riots as a result of such rabble-rousing.”

“All the more reason why you should be delighted to look after us,” she countered. “Well?”

Michael felt as stuck as a loaded freight wagon bogged down and sinking in quicksand. Slowly shaking his head, he nevertheless capitulated. “All right. I’m not scheduled to work tonight. If there are no fire alarms between now and then, I’ll take you. What time do you want to leave?”

“The meeting commences at eight,” Tess said. “I assume that’s so wives and mothers will not have to neglect their families in order to attend. You may call for us at half past seven. I’ll have the carriage ready.”

With that she grabbed Annie’s hand and quickly led her out of the room, their long, plaited skirts swishing around their ankles as they went.

Michael sank back onto the stool. When he glanced at his mother he noted that she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, well, if I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes I’d not have believed it,” Mary drawled. “My full-grown son was just steamrolled by a slip of a girl. ’Twas quite a sight.”

“That it was,” Michael said. “I can hardly believe it myself. What’s happened to Tess? She used to be so levelheaded and obedient.”

“You think she’s not being sensible? Ha! If you ask me, she and others like her are going to come to the rescue of this wicked world. Imagine how those crooked politicians will squirm when they can’t rely only on the good old boys who’ve been keeping them in office in spite of their evil shenanigans.”

“Ma! Watch yourself. If Mr. Clark was to overhear you, he might think you were responsible for Tess’s crazy notions.”

“More likely that girl’s responsible for waking me up,” his mother replied. “If I didn’t have so many chores tonight, I might just be tempted to go listen to Miss Younger, too.”

Tess had raided the attic with Annie and they had both come away with elaborately decorated dark hats and veils.

Annie’s was silk with the brim rolled to one side and the crown bedecked with silk and muslin cup roses and a taffeta bow.

Tess chose the one she had always loved seeing her mother wear. It had two sweeping ostrich plumes anchored in a rosette of shiny black taffeta centered with a large jet ornament. That pin had been a gift from her father to her mother and Mama had always adored it.

Their shirtwaist blouses and lightweight, plaited skirts were their own but they had covered them with heavy wool coats. Tess’s reached below her ankles. Annie’s brushed the floor.

“I’m too short,” the girl complained, lifting the hem. “I’ll get it all dusty.”

“Better dust than mud,” Tess countered. “Just be thankful it isn’t as wet out there as it usually is in the spring.”

She glanced from the second-floor window of her bedroom where they were finishing their preparations. The garden below was bathed in a light mist, and beyond toward the Pacific, clouds lay low, obscuring the moon and much of the landscape, including the lights of the parts of the city nearest the shore.

“Hopefully it won’t rain later tonight,” Tess said. “Looks like the fog is going to be bad though.”

“I know. Maybe we shouldn’t go out.”

“Nonsense. Did you order my mare harnessed to the buggy and tell them when to bring it around, as we’d planned?”

“Yes. But I don’t know that we’ll have a driver. The last I saw of Michael he was still with Mary. I thought surely he’d want to go home and change if he truly intended to take us.”

“I suspect he was wishing he’d be called back to work so he wouldn’t have to keep that promise,” Tess said. “I sincerely hope he doesn’t spend the entire evening lecturing us on the proper place of women in the home.”

Annie grinned. “He can’t really do that unless he goes inside and listens to Miss Younger.”

“Which is highly unlikely,” Tess added. “Wasn’t he funny when he got so uppity? Imagine thinking he can tell us what to do.”

“He sounded like your father may when he finds out what we’ve been up to tonight.” Annie was shivering in spite of the warmth of her wool coat. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Nor am I,” Tess replied with a slight nod, “but I truly feel that this is a cause worth investigating. It’s not as if you and I were planning to officially join the movement or anything like that. We’re just curious. Think of it as a lark.”

“Michael surely doesn’t see it that way.”

“No.” Tess sobered. “But his opinion isn’t our concern. As long as he lives up to his promise we’ll have no trouble.”

“I wish we’d asked someone else to escort us.”

“I don’t,” Tess replied candidly. Truth to tell, she was looking forward to being driven into the heart of the city by the handsome fireman almost as much as she was looking forward to hearing the suffragette lecture.

She began to smile, then grin. There weren’t many socially acceptable ways she could spend time with the cook’s son. Not that she’d ever admit she was looking for any. Perish the thought. But this adventure would be fun. And perhaps in the long run, one more man would begin to understand why so many women were banding together to demand emancipation.

Annie’s squeal startled her from her reverie. “The buggy’s here!” She grabbed her hat to help hold it in place as she added another long pin. “It’s time to go.”

“All right, all right. Keep your voice down or Father will hear.”

“Sorry.” Annie pressed the fingertips of one hand to her lips while continuing to steady the large hat with her other. “Did you leave a note?”

“Yes,” Tess whispered. “And I sincerely hope Father doesn’t find reason to miss us and read it.” She reached for the other young woman’s gloved hand. “Come on. Our carriage awaits.”

Here they come, Michael thought. Or do they? He shook his head in disbelief. Except for the lightness of their steps, the approaching pair resembled stodgy matrons rather than the lithe, lovely young women he had expected. If this was their idea of a joke he was not amused.

While a groom steadied the horse, Michael circled the cabriolet to assist them. Frowning, he offered his hand.

“Good evening, Mr. Mahoney,” Tess said, placing her small, gloved fingers in his and raising her hem just enough to place her dainty foot on the step leading to the rear seat.