Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,29
are oppressed, Mrs Baxter. In thoughts, in deeds—in everything. The law makes us nought but property to our fathers, then our husbands, we are denied admittance to universities, forbidden from practising medicine or law, cannot inherit titles, keep our own wealth if we marry or sit on a seat in Parliament let alone vote for one. At every juncture society forces us into moulds which we dare not attempt to move beyond for fear of censure. And what is worse is that as women we should seek to empower our fellow women, but instead we are taught to judge them more harshly and in some cases more than the men do. Our society is unforgivingly patriarchal.’
‘We clearly need to try harder to work for progress and find some balance.’ Not that Eleanor needed any encouragement to take the lead on anything. She had always been a law unto herself. He pitied her poor husband, who for some reason still adored the harridan.
‘Hardly progress, Mrs Baxter. If history teaches us anything, then we have regressed.’
‘We have?’
‘In ancient Sparta women had much greater freedoms than we do nowadays. They were educated and could inherit. They could divorce feckless husbands and still keep their property. According to Plutarch, they held equal status to men. Can you imagine that? And here, Queen Boudicca raised an enormous army and very nearly toppled the Roman regime. She sacked the Roman strongholds of Colchester and London before being narrowly defeated at St Albans. None of her forty thousand men ever questioned her ability to lead.’ Miss Nithercott speared a potato and began to wield that, too. ‘Then there are the Amazons—if they ever existed, of course, which is still open for debate—who were a famously matriarchal society.’
‘Didn’t I read somewhere they only had one breast?’
Marvellous. Now he could add that word to the mix as the memory of the feel of Miss Nithercott’s bosom against his chest immediately decided to join the overwhelming swirl of inappropriate thoughts in his mind.
‘So legend has it, Mrs Baxter—although by design rather than specific mutation. Apparently, they cut one off so they could hold their bows and fire their arrows better. Staggering, really—but they were fierce warriors who hated men and had absolutely nothing to do with them.’
‘Hardly a surprise then that they died out,’ his sister teased saucily while Max wished he were dead. ‘Men do have some essential uses.’
‘Oh, the Amazons tolerated them for procreation, Mrs Baxter.’ Miss Nithercott’s cheeky grin suggested she knew all about procreation. Of course she did. She apparently knew everything. ‘They abducted men from rival tribes and used them as slaves after they had mated.’
Max nearly choked on his own potato at her phrasing. ‘What else do you do besides digging?’ Enough was enough. Wombs and loins were one thing. Mating and talk of procreation quite another. And they still had to eat dessert. His sister beamed, delighted he had finally deigned to join the conversation.
‘I like to read. I write. I sketch.’
‘Such solitary pursuits. Don’t you ever feel lonely?’ Eleanor said exactly what Max was thinking. ‘Unless you have other family at home?’
‘No. It is just me—I am an only child so it is what I am used to and I do not mind the solitude.’ Although he was sure her eyes said differently.
‘I have never been good with my own company. Growing up I always had Max. A few months before he ran away to sea, I married Adam and had my children. I like the noise and chaos of family, Miss Nithercott. They are my greatest joy. Have you never been tempted to have one?’
Was that sadness he saw in her eyes? Regret? ‘To have a family one must first have a husband, Mrs Baxter, and I am afraid that ship sailed long ago.’
Chapter Eight
Dig Day 764: honey, not vinegar...
‘Your ship hasn’t sailed! You are still young and uncommonly pretty. Isn’t she uncommonly pretty, Max?’
Her host grunted in response, making it difficult to know if he either agreed or disagreed.
‘I refuse to believe no man has ever offered for you.’