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Authors: Alessia Brio
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Christabel Pankhurst, an Edwardian beauty in chignon and hat, interrupting a meeting of the Liberal Party to demand votes for women. A newspaper artist's sketch of Christabel flanked by her firm-jawed mother Emmeline, approximately Paulette's current age, and her sister Sylvia, all in a courtroom.
Paulette inched her way out of Margaret's arms and slid out of bed. Her sweat had dried, leaving her skin clammy, so she quietly opened a closet, pulled out her bathrobe and wrapped it around herself.
Paulette enjoyed the softness of the carpet under her feet as she padded into the adjoining room, where the manuscript waited for her in a suitcase.
She settled herself into an armchair, turned on a lamp, and read "November 20, 1912" on the topmost page. She had already read quite a few of Robin Digwell's translations of the language-for-two—a mishmash of Latin, French, Gaelic and contemporary slang—that Emily and Christabel had used for their most private messages.
" My darling Christabel ," the letter read, "You know how terribly I long to see you! I pray that God will keep you safe in Paris until you can come back to me." Paulette hoped that Emily hadn't been praying to an Old Testament patriarchal God of wrath.
She read on: "I can not leave now when every one of us is needed for the struggle. Do not worry about Mary. I am sure she has no suspicion about us. She is very concerned about Emmeline's health. Our General continues to refuse food each time she is taken back to prison, and this is more dangerous for a woman of her age than it is for the younger ones.
Paulette skimmed over a few lines describing a rainy English winter until she reached the closing: "All the love in the world from your shield-bearer, Emily."
Christabel's response followed. "My Emily," it read, "You must take better care of your own health. Ill soldiers can not win battles. Please do not do anything without speaking to the rest of the executive. We must act together if we wish to be seen as a united force. Fight on and God will give the victory."
Paulette recognized the slogan of Joan of Arc, a favorite with Emily. Of course, Christabel had planted it in Emily's mind when she was in exile in France, hiding out from English law. The letter was signed, "Your Christabel."
Paulette's heart ached. Christabel had never been as selfless or as fanatical as Emily. Maybe that was why Christabel, known as "Queen of the Mob," had been drawn to little Emily, humble worker bee. Mistress and maid.
Paulette skimmed over letters from Emily about the fate of sister-members of the WSPU, and shorter letters from Christabel about the support she was gaining in France. At length, Paulette reached Christabel's letter to Emily dated June 1, 1913. It was chillingly direct:
"Dear Emily,
This letter is difficult for me to write. Count Mille-Chevres has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted him. You know how good he is because I have described him to you. I can not ignore such a clear sign from God that I have been called to a position of influence in my adopted country.
I do not think I shall ever see you again. I will always remember you with fondness, although your deception of Mary has been shameful and I could never become resigned to it.
Please be sensible, Emily, and understand that things are working out for the best. Please make amends to Mary. Martyrdom would not suit you or me, soiled souls as we are.
With my best wishes, C.P."
Editor Robin's note explained that this coded letter was found in Emily's purse when she was rushed to the hospital from Epsom racetrack.
Paulette was stunned. So Emily had died of a broken heart. The personal was political, as the feminists of the 1970s were to say. In this case, though, the political seemed to be personal. Who would commit suicide after getting a "Dear Jane" letter? The heroine of a tragedy, that's who, and Emily had studied literature for the sheer love of it, without hope of gaining academic
Paulette inched her way out of Margaret's arms and slid out of bed. Her sweat had dried, leaving her skin clammy, so she quietly opened a closet, pulled out her bathrobe and wrapped it around herself.
Paulette enjoyed the softness of the carpet under her feet as she padded into the adjoining room, where the manuscript waited for her in a suitcase.
She settled herself into an armchair, turned on a lamp, and read "November 20, 1912" on the topmost page. She had already read quite a few of Robin Digwell's translations of the language-for-two—a mishmash of Latin, French, Gaelic and contemporary slang—that Emily and Christabel had used for their most private messages.
" My darling Christabel ," the letter read, "You know how terribly I long to see you! I pray that God will keep you safe in Paris until you can come back to me." Paulette hoped that Emily hadn't been praying to an Old Testament patriarchal God of wrath.
She read on: "I can not leave now when every one of us is needed for the struggle. Do not worry about Mary. I am sure she has no suspicion about us. She is very concerned about Emmeline's health. Our General continues to refuse food each time she is taken back to prison, and this is more dangerous for a woman of her age than it is for the younger ones.
Paulette skimmed over a few lines describing a rainy English winter until she reached the closing: "All the love in the world from your shield-bearer, Emily."
Christabel's response followed. "My Emily," it read, "You must take better care of your own health. Ill soldiers can not win battles. Please do not do anything without speaking to the rest of the executive. We must act together if we wish to be seen as a united force. Fight on and God will give the victory."
Paulette recognized the slogan of Joan of Arc, a favorite with Emily. Of course, Christabel had planted it in Emily's mind when she was in exile in France, hiding out from English law. The letter was signed, "Your Christabel."
Paulette's heart ached. Christabel had never been as selfless or as fanatical as Emily. Maybe that was why Christabel, known as "Queen of the Mob," had been drawn to little Emily, humble worker bee. Mistress and maid.
Paulette skimmed over letters from Emily about the fate of sister-members of the WSPU, and shorter letters from Christabel about the support she was gaining in France. At length, Paulette reached Christabel's letter to Emily dated June 1, 1913. It was chillingly direct:
"Dear Emily,
This letter is difficult for me to write. Count Mille-Chevres has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted him. You know how good he is because I have described him to you. I can not ignore such a clear sign from God that I have been called to a position of influence in my adopted country.
I do not think I shall ever see you again. I will always remember you with fondness, although your deception of Mary has been shameful and I could never become resigned to it.
Please be sensible, Emily, and understand that things are working out for the best. Please make amends to Mary. Martyrdom would not suit you or me, soiled souls as we are.
With my best wishes, C.P."
Editor Robin's note explained that this coded letter was found in Emily's purse when she was rushed to the hospital from Epsom racetrack.
Paulette was stunned. So Emily had died of a broken heart. The personal was political, as the feminists of the 1970s were to say. In this case, though, the political seemed to be personal. Who would commit suicide after getting a "Dear Jane" letter? The heroine of a tragedy, that's who, and Emily had studied literature for the sheer love of it, without hope of gaining academic
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