But it was not like Patrick to go slumming, so his sister felt confident that, whoever she may be, this young woman was a worthy companion for her beloved brother. And the one thing Georgiana wanted most for Patrick was to find someone who made him as happy as Hereford made her.
Far be it from a meddling sister to interfere with a potential romance! Georgiana put on her most tired face and, resting her hands on the small of her aching back, bid her brother and his new friend good afternoon.
“I’ll let you two enjoy your promenade,” she said, turning to her husband, who wandered off to speak to an acquaintance. “Hereford! Darling, do come along!”
Linley and Patrick watched her waddle down the path, arm in arm with the duke.
“Your sister is very sweet,” Linley said. “And a Duchess, to boot.”
Patrick huffed. “I’m not very keen on the idea. Having my little sister married and starting a family of her own makes me feel very old. And besides, this baby only serves as confirmation of something I’d really rather not be true.”
“You mean that Hereford makes love to your sister?” she asked, grinning.
Rolling his eyes, he nodded.
“Well, I think they are adorable.”
“Of course they are adorable. And I suppose I am very happy for them,” Patrick said with a sigh. “Hereford is a good man and he makes Georgiana very happy.”
“That is all anyone can ask for, Patrick.”
“God knows it was hard enough finding one who could afford to keep her.”
Linley shook her head. “Please tell me that was not your only criterion.”
“Women are very expensive,” Patrick explained. “Especially ones like Georgiana, who are accustomed to only the best of everything. I told you, she is very particular.”
“But surely marriage is worth some sacrifice,” Linley argued. “What if she had fallen in love with a poor man? What then?”
“That would never have happened. Georgiana is smarter than that.”
***
After Hyde Park, Patrick and Linley drove back through the heart of London. But as they passed through Piccadilly Circus onto Shaftesbury Avenue, a jam up of automobiles, busses, and lorries stretched as far as the eye could see. Patrick stood up, craning his neck to get a better view. Women with signs marched through the traffic, and police on horseback struggled to cut them off.
“What is going on?” Linley asked.
Patrick flopped down onto the seat. “Suffragettes.”
“Oh! Berenice told me if I ever see a suffragette, I should cover my eyes.”
“Sound advice,” he said. “They are a miserable lot—not that I don’t believe women should be allowed to vote, it’s just that I don’t think violence and hunger striking are the proper ways to get their message across. No one takes them seriously.”
The women drew closer. “Votes for women!” they cried. “Stop sexual tyranny!”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Patrick said, trying to maneuver his motorcar around a group of them. There was nowhere for him to go. Traffic gridlocked in every direction. He grinded the motor out of gear and pulled the brake.
The suffragettes were all around them carrying banners for the Women’s Social and Political Union.
“Votes for women!”
“We demand the vote!”
They beat on motorcars and shoved pamphlets in the windows. Up the street, things looked violent. Men brawled with men, women brawled with men, and they all brawled with bobbies who tried to arrest them. Some young women were carried past gushing blood from their foreheads and noses.
“Patrick!” Linley cried, reaching for his hand.
He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Just sit tight. This will all be over soon.”
A woman reached a hand into Patrick’s automobile, pulling on Linley’s sleeve. “Don’t just sit idly by!” she cried. “Join your sisters in the fight!”
Linley tried to pull away from the woman’s grasp. “Oh, Patrick! Help!”
“Let her go!” he cried. “Let her go!”
The suffragette tightened her grip on Linley’s arm, dragging her halfway over the door. Linley dangled half in and half out of the motorcar, her feet kicking and her arms flailing.
“Join your sisters in the fight!” the woman yelled as she tried to pull her out onto the street.
“I don’t want to fight!” Linley cried. “Let me go!”
Patrick threw his weight over her lower half, doing his best to pin her down. He wrapped his right arm around her waist.
Even during a riot, a young man and two women wrestling in a motorcar was a curious spectacle. Thankfully, a policeman and a few good samaritans joined the struggle. They grabbed the suffragette by the shoulders and pulled with all their might. No matter how they fought against her, the woman would not release Linley. The bobbie blew his whistle, intending to call for reinforcements. However, the commotion not only attracted more police, but more suffragettes as well.
“Patrick!” Linley cried, coughing and sputtering as the edge of the door bit into her stomach.
Looking the suffragette square in the eyes, Patrick said, “Madam, I suggest you let her go!”