“And the pants split the moment I stepped on stage? Yes, and I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”
“Neither will anyone in the neighborhood.” Cass sighed. “Abby could use a friend, and she misses her family, despite everything that happened.”
“She’s going to be a nuisance.”
“Put her to work, then. Keep her occupied. We could use some help with the Society. I need to spend more time with Miss Restell, so I’ll be of use to her in the practice, and if Abby sells more pastries, her time will be even more in demand.”
Brooklyn Heights had taught Cass to love midwifery, and gave Abby the space to explore her creativity in the kitchen, selling her desserts to local cafes and hotels. Miss Restell, on the third floor, had a thriving midwife practice, and Mrs. Parasno on the second floor just celebrated her youngest child’s graduation from school. Mrs. Korzakowski’s daughter had started classes at Manhattanville College. His tenants’ dreams were taking shape and blooming before Ben’s eyes, giving him a reason to wake up every day. There would always be women in New York who needed help, and as long as he didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop helping, he wouldn’t have time to hurt, and grief couldn’t take him over again.
“I can manage by myself.”
“A women’s suffrage movement should have some women involved,” Cass said. “And if these new restrictions are passed, I’ll have to be even more careful.”
The hair on the back of Ben’s neck prickled. A large part of Cass’s midwife responsibility revolved around helping women prevent unwanted pregnancy, including providing them with contraceptive products. Restrictive laws had forced midwives in New York to hide in shadows and operate in secrecy to allow women some choice in childbearing. Having such a choice would have changed the course of Ben’s life, and he would spend every hour he could protecting women from the fate his wife suffered.
“Are you certain you want to speak at the rally?” Cass asked. “Sharing your story publicly is a big step.”
“Women can’t speak out about the dangers of these laws,” he said, “and unless the lawmakers can see the human impact of their decisions, nothing will change.” Ben preferred to stay in the shadows, but he couldn’t ask Cass or Miss Restell to discuss the horrors they had seen in their practice, and the ghosts of the women who died in childbirth were voiceless. He could at least speak on behalf of one of them.
Cass moved to put her hand over Ben’s, but stopped when she saw he was still stroking Wig, who purred obscenely loudly. “Aiko would be proud of you, Ben. If she could see all you’ve done.”
“It won’t be enough until Comstock is out of office and we get those laws repealed. Women will keep dying…” He trailed off, letting his gaze drift back out the window.
Cass shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Some day I’ll convince you to take credit for all you do, how selfless you are. And in the meantime, put the girl to work. Have her reply to letters, stuff envelopes, paint signs.” Cass stood and smoothed her skirts before crossing to the door. “The rally is in two days, so we could use as many hands as we can get.”
Chapter 4
“Isuggestweburnit.”
Rose turned to her cousin with wide eyes. “Immolation seems like a harsh fate for a corset.”
She stood in Abby’s room in silk stockings and her shift, a delicate concoction of satin with pink embroidered roses along the hem and lace at the edges, feeling utterly exposed. Rose had spent the better part of the hour crying about the loss of her belongings, her foolishness in trusting the boys at the dock and the man on the boat, and the complete folly of sailing across the ocean to find superior parties to attend. What a ninny.
She had mentally drafted a dozen letters to send Timothy. With his estate bordering her family’s estate, Timothy, now the Marquess of Trembly, had always been in the periphery of her mind as a source of male companionship. As they grew older and Timothy confided that his romantic preferences lay outside a woman’s bedroom, they became close friends and confidants.
Dear Timothy,she thought,I’m beginning to suspect I’ve made a terrible mistake. Could I be jailed in America for burning my corsets? Please advise.
“Corsets have done more than enough harm to womankind over the years. It’s time our breasts get some revenge!” She flashed Rose a brilliant smile, and Rose giggled despite the storm raging in her heart. “Take the short stays if you insist.” Abby tossed a set her way then pulled a navy muslin skirt from a drawer. “I have sweaters for you when the weather turns colder.”
“Sweaters?” Rose slid the skirt on, followed by a cream-colored high-necked blouse that scratched her neck, and set to fixing the buttons at her cuff. She’d brushed out her hair and wove it into a tight braid hanging in a rope down her back, something she hadn’t done since she was a girl eager to dash out to the stables before her mother could call her in for her piano lessons.
“Oh, you’d call them jumpers, I think. But you won’t need them for some time. The weather stays warm here well into September.” Abby slid an apron over her dress and turned Rose to face the half mirror above her vanity. “There,” she said. “You look like a regular girl from Brooklyn Heights.”
It would be cliché to say Rose did not recognize her reflection. Her eyes were just as bright, her hair styled differently but not drastically changed, but the woman beneath had transformed. Shedding her clothing was like removing a layer of dead skin, the exposed flesh raw and vulnerable. A shiver—was it dread or excitement?—danced up her spine.
“Help me sort these out, will you?” Rose jolted at her cousin’s voice and joined her at the low bed, now covered in discarded clothing. Mirroring Abby’s actions, Rose attempted to fold the garments into shape, but only created a twisted lump of fabric.
Abby smirked. “Why don’t you sit while I manage this?”
With a sigh of relief, Rose perched on the edge of the bed and watched Abby fold the clothing with astounding efficiency. “Living here with Cass and me… together…” Abby lifted her eyes. “Will that bother you?”
“Of course not.” Rose’s cheeks flamed as she remembered her reaction earlier in the day. She felt like a lifetime had passed since she disembarked the ship. “It’s not my place to object at any rate.”
Abby’s shoulders relaxed. “I hope I didn’t shock you.”
“Not at all.” Rose gave her cousin a coy smile. “I’ve grown more worldly since I last saw you.”
“It wouldn’t take much to be more worldly than you and Fern were,” Abby said with a giggle. Her American aunt and uncle had brought their only daughter to visit every summer and Christmas during her youth. The youngest girls—Rose, Fern, and Violet—had latched onto Abby as a playmate on their Oxfordshire estate, but the visits stopped when Rose’s eldest sisters married. “You really haven’t seen her in several years?”
