Read Online The Quilter's Legacy by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Chiaverini
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blocks. Miss Langley asked her if she needed to ride, but Eleanor shook her head, thinking of the money Miss Langley had already spent. The noises of the factories lessened, but did not completely fade away until Miss Langley turned down a narrow, littered alley and rapped upon a weather-beaten wooden door. On the other side, someone moved a black drape aside from a small, square window. Then the door swung open, and a stooped, gray-haired woman ushered them inside without a word.
“The others are upstairs,” she told Miss Langley, sparing a curious glance for Eleanor.
Miss Langley noticed. “You can see the reason for my delay.”
The older woman tilted her head at Eleanor. “Shall I keep her in the kitchen?”
“No. I think it will be all right.”
The older woman clucked disapprovingly, but she led the way down a dark, musty hall and up a narrow staircase that creaked as they ascended. They stopped at a door through which Eleanor heard a murmur of voices. The older woman knocked twice before admitting Miss Langley. Eleanor followed on her heels, but stopped just inside the room as the older woman closed the door behind them. The dozen women already there greeted Miss Langley by her Christian name and regarded Eleanor with surprise, wariness, or concern, depending, Eleanor guessed, upon their own temperaments. One ruddy-cheeked woman burst out laughing. Her hands were chapped and raw, her clothing coarse, but so were those of two other women present, and they sat among the well-dressed ladies as if they might actually be friends. Only two of the women did not seem to notice Eleanor's presence: a dark-haired woman in a fine blue silk dress who revealed her nervousness by tinkling her spoon in her teacup in a manner that would have earned the Lock-wood girls a reprimand at home, and an elderly lady who sat by the stove in the corner smiling to herself.
Miss Langley apologized for her tardiness and removed her hat. “As you can see, Mary could not leave her little lamb at home today,” she added as she took the nearest chair and gestured for Eleanor to sit on the footstool.
“Never mind,” said one of the women, who was dressed so much like Miss Langley that Eleanor wondered if she were a nanny, too. “We've started without you.”
A deeper voice added, “But we're a long way from finished.”
Others chimed in as they told Miss Langley what she had missed. Their friends from upstate needed their help in organizing the demonstration at the capital, but while many of them were eager to assist, others insisted they were wasting their time with state governments and should instead concentrate on reform at the federal level. On the contrary, the others countered, success in one state would ease the way for others.
One debate swiftly flowed into another: Universal suffrage ought also to include coloreds and immigrants, with all impediments such as property ownership and literacy removed. No, they should fight for the rights of white women only unless they wanted to jeopardize the very structure of their society.
“Is that not precisely what we seek to do by seeking the vote for ourselves?” inquired Miss Langley, setting off another debate.
Eleanor followed the back-and-forth, fascinated. These women looked so ordinary but they talked like confounded radicals. Even Miss Langley. If Father could hear them, his eyes would bulge and the little blue vein at his temple would wriggle like a worm on hot pavement.
Then the woman in blue silk set aside her tea. “My husband has spoken to his colleague in Washington.”
The voices hushed.
“A certain influential senator has promised his public and unwavering support if we compromise on our demands.”
“What's he mean, exactly?” said a dark-haired woman in a thick, unfamiliar accent.
“He would limit suffrage to women who owned substantial property.”
The caveat made laughter echo off the walls of the dingy room, and the ruddy-cheeked woman laughed loudest
“The others are upstairs,” she told Miss Langley, sparing a curious glance for Eleanor.
Miss Langley noticed. “You can see the reason for my delay.”
The older woman tilted her head at Eleanor. “Shall I keep her in the kitchen?”
“No. I think it will be all right.”
The older woman clucked disapprovingly, but she led the way down a dark, musty hall and up a narrow staircase that creaked as they ascended. They stopped at a door through which Eleanor heard a murmur of voices. The older woman knocked twice before admitting Miss Langley. Eleanor followed on her heels, but stopped just inside the room as the older woman closed the door behind them. The dozen women already there greeted Miss Langley by her Christian name and regarded Eleanor with surprise, wariness, or concern, depending, Eleanor guessed, upon their own temperaments. One ruddy-cheeked woman burst out laughing. Her hands were chapped and raw, her clothing coarse, but so were those of two other women present, and they sat among the well-dressed ladies as if they might actually be friends. Only two of the women did not seem to notice Eleanor's presence: a dark-haired woman in a fine blue silk dress who revealed her nervousness by tinkling her spoon in her teacup in a manner that would have earned the Lock-wood girls a reprimand at home, and an elderly lady who sat by the stove in the corner smiling to herself.
Miss Langley apologized for her tardiness and removed her hat. “As you can see, Mary could not leave her little lamb at home today,” she added as she took the nearest chair and gestured for Eleanor to sit on the footstool.
“Never mind,” said one of the women, who was dressed so much like Miss Langley that Eleanor wondered if she were a nanny, too. “We've started without you.”
A deeper voice added, “But we're a long way from finished.”
Others chimed in as they told Miss Langley what she had missed. Their friends from upstate needed their help in organizing the demonstration at the capital, but while many of them were eager to assist, others insisted they were wasting their time with state governments and should instead concentrate on reform at the federal level. On the contrary, the others countered, success in one state would ease the way for others.
One debate swiftly flowed into another: Universal suffrage ought also to include coloreds and immigrants, with all impediments such as property ownership and literacy removed. No, they should fight for the rights of white women only unless they wanted to jeopardize the very structure of their society.
“Is that not precisely what we seek to do by seeking the vote for ourselves?” inquired Miss Langley, setting off another debate.
Eleanor followed the back-and-forth, fascinated. These women looked so ordinary but they talked like confounded radicals. Even Miss Langley. If Father could hear them, his eyes would bulge and the little blue vein at his temple would wriggle like a worm on hot pavement.
Then the woman in blue silk set aside her tea. “My husband has spoken to his colleague in Washington.”
The voices hushed.
“A certain influential senator has promised his public and unwavering support if we compromise on our demands.”
“What's he mean, exactly?” said a dark-haired woman in a thick, unfamiliar accent.
“He would limit suffrage to women who owned substantial property.”
The caveat made laughter echo off the walls of the dingy room, and the ruddy-cheeked woman laughed loudest
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