Rose Gardner's Florist (The Providence Street Shops #2) - Bonnie Dee Page 0,4
Hattie’s burden of ownership as never before.
Another big change was the utter quiet of living alone. As Rose prepared a solitary meal in her flat above the shop, she almost missed the chatter of the girls at Miss Cecily’s boarding house. Her friends there had shared stories about themselves or their workdays at a shop or office. Before that, Rose had lived in a raucous family of six in a two-room, cold-water flat. She’d longed for peace all her life. Now she’d gotten it and the silence was sometimes deafening.
But she oughtn’t to foolishly bemoan things she had lost rather than celebrating everything she had gained. Rose shook off her momentary melancholy and prepared to go out.
The WSPU were assembling at a member’s home, one with a drawing room large enough to accommodate many members. Rose found herself in a wealthy part of the city in a house she could not have imagined as a child in Spitalfields. The physical distance from that slum to Mayfair was no more than six miles, but it may as well have been from the earth to the moon. She often felt like an alien visitor to this lofty world.
What began for Rose as one-time attendance at an open rally had led to membership in this union of women. But the tone of the WSPU had changed after their proposed suffrage bill was voted down. Their demonstrations had become increasingly violent. Members, including Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughters, had been arrested following attacks on police, politicians and public buildings. Rose feared risking her fledgling business by affiliating herself with the WSPU’s open aggression, but how could she inform Mrs. Pankhurst of that, when the leader had taken Rose under her wing?
Arriving late to the meeting, Rose slid into an empty chair as Christabel Pankhurst spoke of a planned demonstration. The young lady sitting beside Rose was not one she recognized. She was a heavyset, dark-haired girl with wide brown eyes riveted on the speaker. Rose became more interested in the newcomer’s reaction than in the debate that followed.
As the meeting turned into fervent discussion of differing opinions, Rose addressed her seat mate. “Your first meeting? It is a bit overwhelming isn’t it?”
The young lady nodded. “I’m not certain I belong here. Everyone seems so knowledgeable and committed to the cause.”
“Have you come with a friend?” Rose could not imagine why the newcomer sat alone.
“Actually, I overheard mention of a secret suffrage meeting and invited myself.”
She showed more spirit than Rose had expected. “Well, I’m glad you came. It is nice to sit beside someone who may feel even more out of place than I often do.” She offered her hand. “I am Rose Gardener.”
The woman shook it, but hesitated before revealing her name. “You may call me Violet.”
“One of my favorite flowers! I am a florist.” How proud she felt to say it. “Working women like me have only recently been invited to attend, as the WSPU has been limited to the upper class. I am glad of it, for it is only through solidarity of all women, high born and low, that we might accomplish our goal.”
“Will having the vote matter when men possess all true power?” Violet’s eyes glistened and she swallowed hard before continuing. “The vote would not be of any use in my situation. Nothing can change my fate.”
Rose offered her handkerchief. “Shall we leave the meeting and have a private chat? I know I am a stranger to you, but we are all meant to be sisters here. We ought to share each other’s trials.”
Violet hastily dried her eyes and returned Hattie’s handkerchief. “I must go. Thank you for your kindness, Miss Gardener.”
Rose recalled the safe haven Hattie’s shop had been to Miss Jennifer Pruett in her time of need. She would like to offer that same sort of sanctuary. “If you change your mind and desire a listening ear, you might find me at my shop on Providence Street.”
The finely dressed young woman nodded, then rose and hurried from the room.
Rose was very tempted to go after her. The decision of where to hold a grand rally followed by a march on Parliament paled in comparison to the very real distress exhibited by the mysterious Violet. But someone was asking her about providing floral arrangements for the event, so Rose stayed and involved herself in the meeting.
*
Several days later, Rose stood misting gladioluses and praying they would not wilt before she sold them. She fought an ongoing battle