9.
~ When she opened her eyes again, she had no memory of what she had done last night. The arrest, her husband picking her up, their fight, the spanking, their bodies so contentedly curled together like a pair of sleeping cats.
She had no memory of cutting her hair off either. For one blissful second, she was able to look out her window, and enjoy the sun streaming down on her.
'Something's wrong.' she thought suddenly and slowly sat up.
She felt different. Her body was sore. Like she had done some kind of strenuous activity. Her head felt different to.
She ran her hands through her hair. A vain attempt to fix it and realized there was much less of it than before.
Her heart started to pound in her chest as the memory flooded back to her. Cutting her hair, Arthur wanting a baby, their night together, her arrest.
She looked worriedly at the bathroom. Mrs. Marsh had not been in yet. No doubt, her husband, proud of his conquest, had told her Ariadne would be indisposed much of the morning.
She winced at the soreness in her bottom as she climbed out of bed and trotted to the bathroom.
There, on the floor, her cast off hair sat. Unloved and no longer cared for.
What had she done? She looked quickly at herself in the mirror and tried not to cry. Her hair, once so sleek and the admiration of many, was thin and ragged looking.
"Oh, no." she breathed and tried to combat the mess. Tried to find enough of her hair to pin back in a respectable way. But, errant strands kept popping out. She hadn't combed or oiled the hair she had left last night and now her locks were dry and had a cowlick she couldn't smooth out.
She quickly picked up her fallen locks from the floor. They looked like broken toys a selfish child no longer had time for.
Carefully, she tried to bundle them together so that they looked like themselves again. She tried them together and hid it in her bottom dresser drawer.
What could she do? Arthur would be furious. He love her hair more that anything about her. His fingers were always touching it. Wanting to curl it between his thumb and index finger. It was the one time Ariadne liked being touched by her husband.
"Mrs. Marsh!" she called after an hour of panic had made her reach out for help.
She heard the older woman come climbing up the steps to her bedroom.
"Mr. Brandon said you would be indisposed this morning, child. But I had no idea you would sleep past noon." she said as she arrived, out of breath on the landing.
"Mrs. Marsh, is Mr. Brandon at home?" she asked.
"It's Saturday, he goes to the gentleman's club today. He won't be back till five. He also said he want's you dressed because he wanted to go out tonight.
"Mrs. Marsh." Ariadne said as she hid behind her door so the old widow couldn't see her.
"What is it, child? DId he hurt you?" Mrs. Marsh asked. The maid stepping forward trying to open the door.
"No, no he didn't." Ariadne said quickly. "Only, I've made a mistake."
She opened the door and reveled her marred appearance.
"Oh, child!" Mrs. Mils sighed.
~ "My daughter, God rest her, did something like this when she was about twelve." Mrs. Marsh explained as with expert hands, she mended and contrived Ariadne's broken, cast off hair into a hair piece.
"She did?" Ariadne asked as she had to admire the older woman's handy work. Mrs. Marsh had washed her hair and pinned it back to that the casual observer would think it was just a normal up-do. The false 'wig' so to speak, would sit at the base of Ariadne's skull and was braided to look more matronly and out of fashion than she was used to.
"Oh yes, bought some kind of hair treatment from a gypsy and burned it right off. Poor child had to wear a cap for over a year till it started to grow back." Mrs. Marsh explained.
"You never said you had a child before." Ariadne said sadly. She suddenly felt bad that she had never known this about the old woman who lived in her home.
"It was a long time ago. Gemma died one night when she was sixteen. Some kind of fever that took hold of her. One day she was fine as sunshine, the next she was gone." Mrs. Marsh explained as she fitted the newly constructed hair piece onto Ariadne's remaining tresses; setting it with countless pins.
Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief as she looked somewhat like her normal self.
"I'm sorry about Gemma." Ariadne said at last.
"No matter." Mrs. Marsh said. "We need to get you ready for Mr. Brandon. He had roses sent to you this morning you know." she said. "Chocolates to I think from the package."
"I don't want them." Ariadne said bitterly.
"Don't want chocolates?" Mrs. Marsh laughed. "They're good for married women."
"I don't want them, and I don't want to see the roses either." Ariadne said stubbornly. "And, when Mr. Brandon arrives home, I won't be here. You can tell him I'm going out to my ladies meeting."
"Now, Mrs. Brandon!" Mrs. Marsh exclaimed.
"If he can have his gentleman's club, if he has the right to meet with stuffy old men who control the world, then I have the right too meet with ladies who want to change all that." Ariadne said as she started to dress.
She pulled on her slip and sensible blouse and skirt.
"Now, Mr. Brandon says you're not allowed to go to those ladies meetings anymore." Mrs. Marsh said. "I'm to keep you at home."
"He told you?" Ariadne said feeling a sense of betrayal.
"Yes, he did. And I agree with him. You've been all out of sorts lately and running with a bad crowd. There are plenty of nice clubs and committees you can join. Why, during the war, I was in a number of sewing circles and we had a grand time." Mrs. Marsh went on. "Then, when I got married and had my Gemma, there were not enough hours in the day between taking care of her and Mr. Marsh. The devil finds work for idle hands and the devil has found you, child. I think you'll feel much more pleased with yourself once you've done your duty to your husband and given him a child."
Ariadne looked bitterly back at the older woman.
"Mrs. Marsh, you're entirely right. The devil finds use for idle hands. With that in mind, I want you to polish the silver and brush down all of Mr. Brandon's suits. Even the ones in storage could use an airing. That should keep you busy so you won't feel the need to mettle in the affairs of those above your station." she said in her mother's voice.
Mrs. Marsh's face fell and Ariadne threw on her coat. It was too warm to wear it. The winter chill was still to come. But the sun kept the cold at bay for now.
As she left the house, she felt a little bad about what she had said to Mrs. Marsh. She was a nice enough woman from a softer generation. She was raised ignorant that women should want or need anything beyond a husband, home and family of their own.
Was it wrong for Ariadne to want more? Why couldn't she just be content with what she had?
She had a lot to be grateful for. She knew that. She had a nice home with a live in servant. Her husband was kind to her and never talked down to her or hit her. The only exception was what happened last night and she didn't categorize that under abuse. It had been...
She shook her head as she hailed a cab. She wasn't sure what it had been, but proper ladies didn't think about it. Sexual relations was something to be endured and good girls, didn't enjoy it.
She climbed into the horse drawn carriage and told the driver the address. Arthur had always ensured she had enough pocket money if she wanted a new dress or wanted to go out with friends. He was very good about slipping cash into her pocket book. He was always saying the worst thing in the world was to be a woman without means.
She had to laugh at the two things being double negatives. A man without means could change his station. But a woman without means and no husband, maybe with hungry children to feed. That truly was the worst thing in the world.
She was thinking of the little girl selling flowers in her bare feet when the driver stopped at Mary's home.
Ariadne got out and paid the cabbie. Mary lived in a middle class neighborhood with nice homes and clean, well cared for children running about and playing. It was only the middle class women who could afford to protest for the vote. Upper class women didn't want to compromise their station, and working class and poor women had too many jobs to do, and too many mouths to feed to spend their Saturdays at meetings like this.
Mary must have seen her coming and opened the door.
"Ariadne, why it's late in the day. How are you?" the leader of the group asked.
"I'm fine, Mary." Ariadne said gratefully as she was welcomed into the woman's home.
In the front parlor, several other women were there. Sitting on improvised seats as Mary had been giving a speech of some kind.
"Was Arthur very upset with you? Are you alright?" Mary asked.
"I'm fine." Ariadne said and her hands went to her hair and made sure the hair piece was still in place. "What's going on?"
"We are going to vote on Friday." Mary said as Ariadne took an uncomfortable seat next to Sybil Yeats.
"What?" she asked.
"We've come up with a plan. The lot of us are going to the court house and vote on Friday." Mary explained.
"Another protest?" Ariadne asked.
"Not at all." Another woman laughed. "That's the brilliance of it."
"Yes." Mary said happily. "Mrs. Brandon, does your husband have any suits he won't miss?"