She gestured to an open seat next to her, which Augusta took without hesitation. Her nerves, which she had kept under control only loosely until now, had left her without enough moxy to stand up much longer.
Dr. Pinkton took the seat across from her, beside the blonde woman who had spoken before.
“So, Lady Brightwater, you are recently married, correct?” the woman said.
“I am, yes, Miss…” she reached for a name, only then realizing that she had not received one.
“Amelia Jardin,” she filled in, her French pronunciation nearly perfect. “You may call me Amelia, of course. We are all on quite familiar terms at this table.”
“Amelia. Yes, I was married only six weeks ago.”
“Still on your honeymoon and dining with us?” said the girl next to Augusta. “That is quite generous of you.” After a short pause, she added, “Helene, by the way.”
“A pleasure,” Augusta said, and she meant it.
The food arrived then, brought in by an older woman.
“That is my great aunt,” Helene said quietly. “She was a midwife for decades after my uncle threw her out on the streets. She likes to cook for our dinners now, and she is at most of our events.”
Augusta nodded, realizing that she had assumed the woman to be a servant when, in fact, these ladies likely did not have many servants at all. Not only that, but the woman had survived something that sounded like a complete nightmare to Augusta - to be cast out, left completely on her own.
She made sure to say a gracious thank you as her food was placed in front of her.
With food and wine soon flowing freely, the table took on that tittering sound of a dinner party with good company. Augusta spoke at length with Helene, but also with each of the other women at the table. Each was wildly well-spoken and educated, even those from poor families. Each had some wild tale of how they ended up as part of the Society.
At one point, during a lull in the conversation, Amelia spoke directly to Augusta again.
“So, you have worked with our Dr. Pinkton here a great deal. Why have I not seen you at any of our events?”
“Amelia,” Dr. Pinkton chided softly. “We talked about this.”
“No, I believe I would like to hear it from her myself, thank you.” Her voice was cutting, her gaze even moreso.
“I…” Augusta began, then realized that she had no idea what to say. Sitting up straighter, she decided that a diplomatic version of the truth was likely best. “While I do admire the work that all of you ladies have done individually, I do sometimes find myself at odds with the methods that the Society uses to gain traction.”
As she said it, she thought that it was quite a fine turn of phrase. Feeling the sudden tension in the room, however, left her wondering if she ought to have stayed quiet.
Everyone’s eyes flitted to Amelia, and Augusta had the feeling that they were bracing themselves for an execution.
“I see,” was all Amelia said for a moment, but those eyes…by God, they were icy. “And which methods are so egregious to your sensibilities?”
She should have stayed quiet. She should have stayed quiet.
She did not.
“Well, destruction of property, for one thing. I understand righteous anger and wanting to change things, but I could not let my family name be associated with an organization that breaks and burns. I am even more hesitant now that I am married.”
The silence - it could have cut stone.
Amelia’s subsequent smile held no humor in it. “Ah, yes. And howisyour newest keeper, Lady Brightwater?”
“I’m sorry?” Augusta asked, confused.
“Your recent marriage means that you’ve changed hands. How is your new keeper? Lesser, greater? Does he let you out of your cage during the day?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Augusta saw Helene cringe against Amelia’s question.
“I…he is wonderful. I am quite lucky to have made a love match.” Even as she said it, her cheeks flushed at the admission. She had not said to many people that she was in love - she’d hardly even admitted it to herself.
