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‘Um, yes. Very pathetic,’ I assured her hurriedly. But to judge by the suspicious glare she shot me, I suppose she could tell my heart wasn’t really in it. To tell the truth, no matter how much I tried to ignore the Royal Wedding of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, in some secret corner of my fiery feminist heart, I was looking forward to it. Maybe because Prince Albert was rumoured to be a specimen of that extremely rare species known as ‘nice men’. Or maybe it was because it hadn’t been he who had asked Victoria to marry him - no, it had been the other way around. She had gotten to decide, an idea which I found extremely appealing. I suppose there were certain advantages to being queen.
‘It’s not pathetic!’ For one moment, Eve looked affronted, but it only took seconds before her eyes started to glaze over and assumed a glamorous gleam. ‘It’s romantic! The most magnificently madly romantic thing there has ever been in the history of England and the Empire! Prince Albert is so dreamy! I saw a photograph of him in the Spectator, and he’s just the handsomest man who ever lived! Mr Darcy can’t hold a candle to him! And besides, Mr Darcy is only a fictional character and Prince Albert is real. He’s a handsome prince, and he’s real, and he’ll be married in three days!’
‘And not to you,’ Patsy pointed out in a dry tone.
Eve threw her a dagger-like look. ‘Thank you so much for reminding me.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Anyway, you see why we can’t go to prison for two weeks, don’t you, Patsy?’
‘Oh, of course.’
‘I mean, it’s a Royal Wedding, for Christ’s sake! How often in our lifetime will we be able to attend a royal wedding? We simply can’t go to prison! We can’t!’
‘Absolutely not. I’m sure if we explain to the judge, he’ll let us off with a reprimand so we can go shout “God save the Queen” together with the rest of London.’
Eve gave Patsy a suspicious look. ‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
They started to bicker, and my attention started to wander. But I kept a wary eye on them, and when Patsy reached for her parasol and Eve for her knitting needles (and not to knit with, this time) I felt it was time to intervene.
‘Hey, hey. Calm down, the two of you.’
‘Cold-hearted materialist!’ Eve hissed.
‘Man-crazy fool!’ Patsy growled back.
I figured neither of them meant me.
‘Relax,’ I told Eve. ‘It won’t matter if we’re in jail on Monday or not. We’d never be able to get good seats for the wedding anyhow.’ As I said it, I realized how true the words were. And I was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment at the fact. ‘I mean, it’s not going to be in some big church, but in the Chapel Royal at St James's Palace. Crowds won’t fit in there. To get in, you’d have to be royalty, or obscenely rich and important.’
‘True.’ Eve pulled a face. ‘Dang!’
‘Psht!’ Flora, who had reappeared from behind her hands, held a finger to her lips. ‘Look! He’s back!’
We looked and saw his Lordship, Justice of the Peace Winston Montgomery Murgatroyd, enter the room, a grave expression on his face - so grave, you could practically read the letters on the headstone. Seating himself behind the judge’s desk, he took a deep, rattling breath, angled his wobbly chin into the most impressive pose and proclaimed, ‘I have thought long and hard on this matter. It is no easy decision to make. Taking into account the accused’s young age, I considered leniency-’
Flora sat up straight, her wide, open eyes shining with hope.
‘-but with morals slipping everywhere in our society, such an outrageous exhibition of misconduct as we have witnessed today cannot go unpunished.’
The magistrate sent a dark look our way, and Flora withered.
‘Thus, I have decided on a suitably harsh punishment, which will hopefully deter these wicked individuals from breaking the cherished moral laws of the realm in the future.’ The gavel rose, and fell with a deafening thud. ‘For the grievous crimes of indecent exposure and disturbing the Queen’s peace, I hereby sentence you to a fine of five shillings each. May God have mercy on your souls.’
*~*~**~*~*
‘Thieves! Marauders!’ Patsy swung her fist at the courthouse, a moment before the door slammed shut into her face. ‘Five shillings! Can you believe it? Five shillings!’
‘Well, now, Patsy,’ Flora dared to remark, ‘it is not that bad. Five shillings isn’t that much.’
This earned her one of Patsy’s looks. You know, the ones that could make a sergeant major quake in his boots? ‘It’s the principle of the thing! We did nothing wrong, so we shouldn’t be punished if there were any justice in the world for women. Besides, five shillings might not be that much for you or me - our families are well off! But what about poor Lilly?’
‘Her uncle has money, too.’
‘But he’s as stingy as a Scotsman with a stick up his arse! For all intents and purposes, Lilly hasn’t got more money than a church mouse. And five shillings is five times what most people make in an entire month - if they have a job, which none of us do!’
