concentrate on the issue. “Why not?” she said. “It's a lovely afternoon, people might like to stroll on the terrace.” She repositioned a group of chairs into a conversation circle. “If he does come I'm sure it'll be in pursuit of Con. You could tell how interested he was that night at the Beekmans'. Tactless but interested,” she added with a chuckle, forgetting her concern for a moment. “He can't have any idea what devil he's aroused in Con. I can't wait to see her demolish him, or rather, his pompous arrogance.” Then she demanded again, “Where
is
she?”
Prudence stepped back from the now opened doors. She said soothingly, “She can't have had an accident, Chas, we would have heard. A policeman would have been here by now . . . Oh,
Jenkins . . .” She glanced at the butler, who entered with a tray of cups and saucers. “No sign of Con yet?”
“No, Miss Prue.” He set the tray on a console table. “Mrs. Hudson has prepared two kinds of sandwiches, cucumber and egg and cress. She could make tomato as well if you want more variety, but she was hoping to use the tomatoes for the soup this evening.”
“Keep them for our soup, by all means,” a voice chimed in from the door. “We could always give our guests potted meat paste or jam.”
“Con, where have you been?” Prudence demanded, ignoring her sister's joking suggestion. “We were getting really worried. Or at least Chas was,” she added.
“I wasn't really,” Chastity said a mite defensively. “But you might have sent a message, Con.”
Constance removed the pins from her wide-brimmed felt hat. “I'm sorry,” she said, instantly penitent. She knew how quickly Chastity became anxious. “I didn't mean to worry you. I would have sent a message, only I couldn't. I have had the most invigorating day.” Her cheeks were flushed, her dark green eyes asparkle; energy seemed to flow from her with every long-legged stride as she crossed the room. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “I've left you with all the work.”
“There's not much to do,” Chastity reassured. She was now smiling, her relief at her sister's reappearance visible in her eyes and in the relaxation of her mouth. “Mostly you were fortunate to miss the old cod pie.”
“Last night's?”
“Mmm.”
“Oh, and I had a Cornish pasty and a glass of sherry,” Constance said with a stricken expression. “But mostly it was food for the mind.”
“Well, what were you doing?” Prudence regarded her with curiosity.
“Do you remember Emmeline Pankhurst, Mother's friend?”
“Oh, yes, Mother worked with her on the Women's Suffrage Committee, and the Married Women's Property Committee. I thought she was in Manchester.”
“No, I knew she had moved to London but I haven't had a chance to visit her. But I bumped into her this morning. She and her daughter Christabel have formed a London branch of the Women's Social and Political Union. They're lobbying for votes for women, but of course you know that.” Constance was rummaging in her handbag as she spoke. “I went to a meeting this morning and joined the Union afterwards . . . See?” She held up a purple, white, and green badge. “My official emblem in the colors of the WSPU.”
“So you go out for ribbon and come back with a political badge,” Chastity said. “How did that happen?”
“I didn't even get through the door of Swan and Edgar's. I bumped into Emmeline on the pavement outside and she invited me to this meeting. She was speaking at Kensington Town Hall. It was electrifying. You can't imagine what it was like.”
Her words tumbled over themselves as her mind still raced with the details of the meeting she had attended. The excitement and enthusiasm of the audience still rang in her ears. She had grown up with the sentiments that had been expressed and the issues that had been aired at the Women's Social and Political Union but she had never participated in a group discussion before. Her mother had been
is
she?”
Prudence stepped back from the now opened doors. She said soothingly, “She can't have had an accident, Chas, we would have heard. A policeman would have been here by now . . . Oh,
Jenkins . . .” She glanced at the butler, who entered with a tray of cups and saucers. “No sign of Con yet?”
“No, Miss Prue.” He set the tray on a console table. “Mrs. Hudson has prepared two kinds of sandwiches, cucumber and egg and cress. She could make tomato as well if you want more variety, but she was hoping to use the tomatoes for the soup this evening.”
“Keep them for our soup, by all means,” a voice chimed in from the door. “We could always give our guests potted meat paste or jam.”
“Con, where have you been?” Prudence demanded, ignoring her sister's joking suggestion. “We were getting really worried. Or at least Chas was,” she added.
“I wasn't really,” Chastity said a mite defensively. “But you might have sent a message, Con.”
Constance removed the pins from her wide-brimmed felt hat. “I'm sorry,” she said, instantly penitent. She knew how quickly Chastity became anxious. “I didn't mean to worry you. I would have sent a message, only I couldn't. I have had the most invigorating day.” Her cheeks were flushed, her dark green eyes asparkle; energy seemed to flow from her with every long-legged stride as she crossed the room. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “I've left you with all the work.”
“There's not much to do,” Chastity reassured. She was now smiling, her relief at her sister's reappearance visible in her eyes and in the relaxation of her mouth. “Mostly you were fortunate to miss the old cod pie.”
“Last night's?”
“Mmm.”
“Oh, and I had a Cornish pasty and a glass of sherry,” Constance said with a stricken expression. “But mostly it was food for the mind.”
“Well, what were you doing?” Prudence regarded her with curiosity.
“Do you remember Emmeline Pankhurst, Mother's friend?”
“Oh, yes, Mother worked with her on the Women's Suffrage Committee, and the Married Women's Property Committee. I thought she was in Manchester.”
“No, I knew she had moved to London but I haven't had a chance to visit her. But I bumped into her this morning. She and her daughter Christabel have formed a London branch of the Women's Social and Political Union. They're lobbying for votes for women, but of course you know that.” Constance was rummaging in her handbag as she spoke. “I went to a meeting this morning and joined the Union afterwards . . . See?” She held up a purple, white, and green badge. “My official emblem in the colors of the WSPU.”
“So you go out for ribbon and come back with a political badge,” Chastity said. “How did that happen?”
“I didn't even get through the door of Swan and Edgar's. I bumped into Emmeline on the pavement outside and she invited me to this meeting. She was speaking at Kensington Town Hall. It was electrifying. You can't imagine what it was like.”
Her words tumbled over themselves as her mind still raced with the details of the meeting she had attended. The excitement and enthusiasm of the audience still rang in her ears. She had grown up with the sentiments that had been expressed and the issues that had been aired at the Women's Social and Political Union but she had never participated in a group discussion before. Her mother had been
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