Degree of Solitude Page 9

  Catrin’s breath bellowed. She was too tightly laced to control it and too angry to bother trying. “Are you accusing me of lying, Mr. Cornell?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Not for a moment. Catrin…may I call you that? I have seen the bohemian side of life and I know women are as capable as men in all things but simple strength. I am merely the editor, though. I have to keep the readers of the magazine in mind and I know it would appall them to learn Gresham King is a woman. They would feel they have been cheated and would stop buying the magazine. For that reason, I urge you to go home now, before too many people spot me dining with a lady and later, put it together with the fact that I am the editor for Gresham King.”

  Catrin swallowed. “I see. You are saying you wish to continue the relationship, while maintaining the secrecy.”

  “Then you do understand,” he said, with a touch of relief in his voice. “I am sorry to be so blunt and harsh, but legal facts cannot be got around.” He gave her a strained smile. “I regret we cannot offer Gresham King a contract.”

  Catrin got to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Cornell. I will pass on your unfortunate news to Mr. King.”

  She did go home, but not to write more stories for the London Gentleman’s Monthly.

  For a week, Catrin brooded over the injustice of the situation. Her father’s old law books were still in the library and she poured over them, searching for similar cases.

  Finally, when Iefan proved to be elusive, as usual, Catrin sent a letter to Ben, asking if she might speak to him about a business matter.

  Ben’s secretary, a Mr. Elias Smith, replied by return mail, suggesting she stop by the offices of Davies & Spearing tomorrow at noon.

  Catrin arrived a few minutes early. Ben came out of his office as soon as she was announced. He gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, which drew the gazes and speculations of every clerk sitting at their high desks. Then he drew her back into his office. “I haven’t seen you since the gather last year,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were in London this season—I haven’t spotted you at any of the usual affairs.”

  “That is because I haven’t attended them,” Catrin replied. “In part, that is why I am here.”

  Ben raised his thick black brow. “This really is a matter of business, Cat?”

  “It is.”

  He tugged at his beard. “Do you have a coin in your reticule?”

  Puzzled, Catrin opened her purse, withdrew a farthing and offered it to him.

  “Thank you.” Ben put the farthing in his pocket. “Now you have paid me for my services and are my client. Anything we discuss I cannot now be compelled to reveal in court.” He winked. “Just in case.”

  Catrin was pleased. “Does that also mean you cannot reveal anything of my particulars to anyone else?”

  “It does.”

  Relieved, she told him why she was there. She barely began before Ben sat upright in his chair, his brow lifting. He held up his hand. “Wait a moment. Do you have any objection if I bring Stephen in on this? Intellectual property rights are one of his areas of interest.”

  “Certainly, if he will be bound by the same discretion as you.”

  “Oh, we can arrange that. Find another coin, Catrin. I will be right back.”

  She pulled a penny from her purse, while Ben stepped out of the room. He returned within a minute, with Stephen Spearing behind him. The redheaded man also hugged Catrin, although he did not kiss her cheek. Instead he held out his hand. “You have a professional fee for me, I believe?”

  Catrin laid the penny in his hand, which he pocketed. “Now, if you don’t mind beginning again?” Stephen asked. He propped his lean length against the front of Ben’s desk.

  Catrin explained to them about Gresham King and the London Gentleman’s Monthly’s refusal to offer her a contract because she was a lady.

  “Legally, they are correct,” Stephen said, when she was finished. “As a woman, you cannot sign a contract.” He paused. “It doesn’t reflect upon the unfairness of such a situation. Although I don’t think you realize how smartly this Sullivan Cornell played it. He was actually considerate, under the circumstances.”

  Catrin was startled out of her building anger. “Why do you say that?”

  “If Cornell wanted to, he and his magazine could take you to court for misrepresentation in business matters.”

  “If I am not legally able to conduct business, how can they sue me for conducting business incorrectly?” Catrin asked, dismayed.

  “It is one of the joys of the law,” Stephen said, with a sour grimace. “Take the high road, Catrin. Go back to the arrangement you had with them—only now Cornell knows who you are, the matter of payment will be simplified. Take your victory where you can.” Stephen smiled. “I must add that I am in awe of the fact that you are Gresham King. I have been reading all his stories since they first were published. They’re highly entertaining.”

  “Thank you, I think,” Catrin replied. She sighed. “How can I ever prosper, if I cannot deal with anyone legally? It is…limiting.”

  “It is,” Stephen said, with a sympathetic nod. “The only proper advice I can give you is to leave the matter alone. It could have had a far more severe outcome.”

  “Do you have improper advice?” Catrin asked curiously.

  Stephens’ eyes danced. He pulled out his watch and said, “Oh, look at that. Tea time! I am off duty for ten minutes.” He put his watch away. “Now. As a friend, my advice is to find a man you trust to represent you. Only, it must be someone you trust, Catrin. He will conduct all business matters in his name and all the money will pass through him.”

  “So, you are suggesting the woman whom Gresham King represents must have a second representative for her?”

  Ben snorted and shook his head.

  “This is impossible,” Catrin said, her anger stirring again.

  “I agree,” Stephen said. “Until the law changes and women are permitted to vote, and then vote for parliamentary representatives who will strive for equal rights for women, you are stuck with it, I’m afraid.”

  “It could take decades,” Catrin said, dismayed.

  “Most likely,” Stephen said. “The movement toward female suffrage is in its infancy. It will happen though,” he added, glaring at Ben.

  Ben shook his head. “Not in our lifetime.” His tone said this was a discussion they’d had before.

  “Yes, in our lifetime,” Stephen said firmly. “Not every man believes women are incapable of thinking for themselves. They don’t speak up because other men would pillory them if they did. Women must fight this fight for themselves…and they will.”

  Catrin sighed and got to her feet. “I thank you for your time, gentlemen. And your excellent advice, of course.”

  “Where are you going?” Ben said, getting to his feet. “Midday has come and gone. Stephen and I will take you to Claridge’s to dine.”

  She smiled. “That would be lovely.”

  They didn’t speak of her quandary over lunch, when nearby diners might overhear them. Their discretion reassured Catrin.

  When she returned home, she moved without thought into the library, removing her gloves and hat as she walked. The big desk was scattered with piles of paper, weighted down. A fresh stack of paper sat waiting for her.

  Only, for the first time in months, she did not want to write a Rigby Blue story. All the charm of Blue’s adventures had evaporated.

  She sat in front of the page lying in the middle of the desk, thinking over her conversation with Ben and Stephen. It really was quite unfair, she decided. Only, there was nothing she could do about it.

  Catrin was startled when her mother walked into the library. “Mama! I didn’t realize you were in London!”

  “A quick visit, then back to Marblethorpe for a while, then back to Cambridge.” Annalies kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You look pensive.”

  “I am,” Catrin admitted. “Mama, what do you know about equality for wom
en?”

  Her mother pursed her lips and folded her hands over the front of her basque. “My goodness! It would take days to exhaust that topic! Why do you ask?”

  “You must have come across the legal limitations of being a woman while you were helping establish Girton College, surely?”

  “I did. The most bitter fight was to have the women who worked to establish the college listed as the founders, instead of their husbands.”

  Catrin raised her brow. She picked up her pen. “Please sit, Mother. I have a few questions to ask you.”

  Annalies raised her brow. “Should I call for tea?”

  They sat in the library until late that night, discussing equality, suffrage and the complex world of politics. After swearing her mother to secrecy, Catrin gave her the full truth about Gresham King.

  Annalies laughed for a long minute, holding her hand against her bodice, her cheeks wet with tears, when Catrin revealed the truth. She sighed and wiped her eyes. “Ah, dear…you are most definitely our daughter, my dear. Please…may I tell your father? He will be as delighted as me.”

  She sobered. They fell to discussing strategies Catrin might use to clear some of the obstacles in her path.

  “Stephen’s private advice was not unreasonable,” Annalies admitted. “A male representative is the usual way of doing things. Would you like your father to deal with the magazine on your behalf? As he is your father and you are an unmarried woman, he can legally represent you.”

  Catrin caught her breath. “Papa has retired from business, Mother. It would be unfair.”

  Annalies tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And you would prefer to stand alone, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes!” Catrin said, putting down her pen and wiping the ink from her fingers. “Only, the law will force me to this compromise. I can see that now.”

  Annalies got to her feet and stretched, yawning. She kissed Catrin’s temple. “I must go to bed,” she murmured. “You may find a night’s sleep gives you some clarity, too.”

  Reluctantly, Catrin followed her mother’s sound suggestion, and she did sleep well.

  She woke the next morning as she had every morning for the entire season—with her mind busy concocting delicious scenes and adventures for Rigby Blue. Then she remembered what had happened yesterday.

  Catrin sat up and pounded the bed cover between her knees, frustration biting her. She snatched her wrapper and flung it on. Then she hurried downstairs, picked up her pen and wrote, with no clear intention of what she was trying to say.

  After several pages of incoherent raging upon the paper, the sentences grew smoother and more reasonable. Logical. Argumentative, but sound.

  After a while, Catrin stood and reached for the legal texts which her mother had suggested last night.

  She continued writing.

  The Limits Drawn Around Us took mere days to write. It was as if Catrin’s entire life had been building toward the writing of the book-length argument for suffrage and equality for women. She had her mother’s example to draw upon, and her mother’s friends, too. She was surrounded by legal expertise to build a sound base for her thesis. And she was a woman trying to work inside the strictures of society.

  Catrin barely changed a word of the manuscript. When she sent it to the publisher, she put Gresham King’s name on the title page. She was not foolish enough to repeat her mistakes.

  It did not surprise her when the publisher wrote inside the week to offer to publish the book. Forewarned by Stephen, Catrin asked Ben to accompany her to meet with the publisher to discuss the terms of the deal, as her elder brother.

  The publisher, one of the oldest and most venerable presses in England, was only momentarily nonplussed to learn she was a woman. Mr. Strickland, the principal editor, who was wizened, with white hair and merry eyes, merely shook his head. “It explains much about Gresham King which has puzzled us since he burst upon the scene at the beginning of this year. You were wise to hide your true nature, Miss Davies.” Then he turned to Ben and negotiated the contract with the aplomb and skill of a solicitor.

  The book was scheduled to be published in March of 1871. Catrin looked forward to a quiet Christmas at Marblethorpe before its publication. In January, Mairin ran away to siege-locked Paris in search of Iefan, who had disappeared, and the entire Great Family held their breath…

  Chapter Nine

  When Nevern and Kernigan returned to the carriage after examining the body of Blodwen Jones, Nevern told Catrin they would take her back to Ysgolheigion. Then the two men would go on to the quarry to speak to Finn Doherty, the Irishman with whom Blodwen Jones had been associated.

  “The quarry is no place for a lady,” Kernigan said, not meeting her gaze.

  Sitting in the cold carriage had calmed her temper and ordered her thoughts. Catrin smiled at Kernigan. “I would prefer to return, thank you.”

  Nevern’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

  When Catrin stepped back inside Ysgolheigion, Daniel was not in the drawing room. She asked Gwen for a small noon meal and also for Daniel’s location.

  “In his study, Miss.”

  Startled, Catrin raised her brow. “Good,” she said firmly. “While he is there, we will air out his room and clean it, too.”

  Gwen blinked. “Oh, Miss, I can’t go in there. He’d be ever so angry…”

  “Not when I explain that I asked you to do this.”

  Gwen looked doubtful. “Well, if you think so, Miss.”

  After her lunch meal, Catrin returned to her room and put on her work dress and her pinafore. The pretty lace around the edges would disguise the fact that the thick cotton pinafore protected her dress from ink drops and her absent-minded wiping of her stained fingers against her skirts. Catrin had borrowed the idea from the pinafores and overdresses which Mairin had made for Lisa Grace, to protect her clothes from paint.

  Gwen looked nervous and taken aback at Catrin’s appearance. “You? Cleaning, Miss?”

  “Why not? The work will go faster if we both turn our hands to it. Then Mr. Williams will not be inconvenienced. I would prefer to have the room clean and sweet before he even notices we are in it.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, Miss. Mr. Williams disappears for hours when he goes into his study. He won’t come out again until long after supper.”

  Catrin opened the door to Daniel’s bedroom. The shards of china were still scattered against the wall beneath the window, as she suspected they would be. She pulled aside the drapes and dust puffed into the air from the movement.

  “We won’t have time to beat the drapes today,” Catrin said, shaking them vigorously. “For now, let’s return the room to a civilized standard.”

  They cleaned and tidied, both moving swiftly and with little discussion. Catrin was not accustomed to the work but found it soothing, after being rebuffed by Nevern and Kernigan this morning.

  They were nearly finished when Daniel said from the doorway, “What on earth are you doing? And will you, for heaven’s sake, close the drapes!”

  Catrin whirled to face the door. Daniel had his arm up, shielding his eyes from the daylight. She motioned to Gwen, who leapt to pull the drapes closed.

  “I took the opportunity to clean while you were busy in your study,” Catrin said.

  Gwen’s quick tugs on the drapes did not fully close them. Chinks of light crept in, enough for Catrin to see Daniel lower his arm. He glanced around the room, taking in the made bed, the cleared table and gleaming floor, bereft of any dirt or china. They had cleaned the lamp, too, and added fresh oil.

  Gwen now lit the lamp. It gave out a low hiss and spread warm light around the room.

  Daniel put his hand to his temple and rubbed it thoughtfully. “I suppose it is an improvement,” he admitted.

  “Thank you.”

  “Only, you should not be doing this, Catrin,” he added. “Gwen, where is the other maid, the dark-haired one?”

  “Tuppence, Mr. Williams? She resigned her post
, more than a month ago.” Gwen’s tone was neutral.

  “I see,” Daniel said heavily.

  “I needed to wear away the edges of my temper,” Catrin said lightly. “This served rather well.” She looked around the room, pleased with the difference they had made.

  Daniel tilted his head. He had shifted his feet so he turned away from her, which put his scarred cheek farthest from her. He was hiding it. “Who had the ignorance to stir your temper?”

  “It is of no matter,” she replied, as Gwen piled the brooms and cleaning implements together into the great metal bucket, to take them to the next room. Catrin shook out her apron and headed for the door where Daniel stood. “While you are occupied in here, we will clean your study—”

  He flung his arm across the door, barring her. “You will do no such thing.” His tone was sharp and hard. “Hear me, Catrin. Do not step foot inside the study. Do I make myself clear?”

  Catrin could feel her eyes widening. Once, long ago, they had stood like this in another doorway.

  “You make yourself perfectly clear,” she said. “May I know why we should allow the dust to accumulate in there?”

  It was difficult to keep her tone firm and businesslike, or even polite, for she stood rather closer to Daniel than polite company allowed. Her closeness was affecting her, making her heart beat harder. This close, she was reminded of Daniel’s solid strength. His height, which was greater than her own, even though he was not the tallest man in the family.

  His gaze met hers. He was angry enough he had forgotten to keep his cheek averted from her. His gaze met hers squarely.

  Catrin swallowed. Oh, she was being reckless, looking into his eyes from this small distance! She had almost forgotten what it was like to feel his warm regard…

  Daniel stepped back, dropping his arm. The moment was broken. “You have no need to know the reason. Do as I request. Stay out of the study.”