In a Gilded Cage - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,7
there would be if women had a say in running the country?” the first man countered. “Why, they might even try to elect a woman president.”
There was a roar of laughter at this suggestion.
“Go home, girls. Go back where you belong and stop making fools of yourselves.”
“You seem to be the one making a fool of yourself at the moment, sir,” one of the young women ahead of us said calmly. “Now please stand back and let us proceed.”
Emily and I glanced at each other. I had never considered that our little demonstration would turn ugly. Or that people would react so violently. I noticed that there were women among those shouting abuse at us. Some looked sorry for us. The term bluestocking was repeated as we processed up the avenue.
“I think we shall not have an easy fight on our hands,” I said to Emily, as the parade ahead of us halted for a moment.
“No, it certainly won’t be easy. Most women are content with their lot and have no wish to worry about politics.”
“But it’s not just politics, is it?” I said. “It’s about having a say in the running of a community.”
“Of course it is. Local measures regarding water and transportation. School bonds. Women have no voice in things that are important to them—their health, their safety, and their children. This is what we have to get across to the women of America. But they don’t want to listen.”
The parade moved on again. Since we were following a considerable number of horse-drawn carriages, we had to walk carefully and watch where we put our feet. As I looked down something struck me on the shoulder. I reacted with alarm and saw that my costume was now caked with mud. Another clod of mud struck the hat of the woman in front of me. A roar of laughter went up from the crowd.
“Pay no attention to them,” Emily said. “It’s just urchins amusing themselves.”
“Go home!” The chant rose again.
We marched on, chins held high as mud spattered our banners.
Suddenly a man darted out from the crowd. “Lucinda. What do you think you are doing!” he shouted, grabbing the arm of one of the young women at the head of our procession. “Leave this absurd farce at once. You are embarrassing yourself and your family.”
He was a young man with an impressive mustache and he carried a silver-tipped cane.
“Go away, Laurence,” the girl said, shaking him off. “It’s none of your business what I choose to do. And it is you who are embarrassing me.”
“I will not allow you to make a fool of yourself like this. You are coming with me.” He started to drag her out of the line.
“Let go of me. I’m not leaving my friends. This is a free country. I’ve a right to express my opinion.” The girl was shouting now.
“Leave her alone!” the girl behind her joined in the fray.
More men from the crowd dashed out and soon there was an out-and-out fracas. Whistles were blown and policemen appeared.
“All right. Enough of this,” one of them said sternly. “Step aside. Move out of the way and let the parade proceed.”
“But we’re part of the parade,” Sid said.
“Not anymore, miss. You’re causing a right disturbance but I’m letting you off with a warning. Disperse now and go home or I’ll have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”
“We were doing nothing but marching peacefully,” Sid said. “It was that man who attacked a member of our group.”
“Only trying to protect my sister, Officer,” the man said. “I’m Laurence Patterson the Third and I believe you know my father, Justice Laurence Patterson.”
“Know the gentleman well, sir.” The sergeant touched his cap. “I suggest you take the young lady home before any harm comes to her. Off you go, miss.”
Lucinda shot us a furious look as she was led away.
“This isn’t fair, Sergeant,” Sid said. “We have the same right as any citizen of New York to march in the parade.”
“Not if your presence causes a disruption, which it clearly was. It’s my job to make sure the parade goes nice and smoothly. So this is my final warning. Go home or get arrested.”
“We choose to get arrested,” Sid said. “Are you with me, sisters?”
The policeman sighed. “Very well, if you insist. Take ’em away, men. There’s a Black Maria waiting around the corner on Fiftieth.”
“This is outrageous!” Sid exclaimed.
“My father will hear of this,” another woman shouted.
“Your father will thank me, miss, for keeping you