16.
~ Ariadne walked quickly into the heart of the busy streets that were populated by the more working class of the city. She was sure her husband would follow her in a cab soon enough, and she wanted to blend in better. She hugged her coat and purse tightly to her body as she crossed the street with the multitude of pedestrians. The city had gotten so crowded now. So many different people living and working here. So many children running around and work men and wash women in their faded clothing. Ariadne looked out of place in her sensible rust colored dress, and fashionable coat and hat.
She walked more quickly and brushed off the stares she got from the women who were no doubt perplexed to see a lady with short hair and wearing it down. They were all from the old country with their hair tightly braided up their heads. Kerchiefs holding the lose strands in place. This style made even the youngest and prettiest of them look very plain.
Ariadne quickly jumped off the curb and scurried past the cabbies waiting for the pedestrians to cross.
She was in no mood to do anything but walk. She felt anger at Arthur and deep down, realized it wasn't really him she should be mad at, but the whole system. Arthur was only doing what he thought was best. What he thought would mend their fences and help them was naturally a baby. He had been condition, they both had, that this was the logical next step in their lives together. But Ariadne wasn't sure it was what she wanted. Unlike cutting her hair, or even getting married, a child was something that wouldn't go away or fade with time.
Arthur had no way to understand how a baby wouldn't make her feel any better, but make her feel even more trapped.
"Mrs. Brandon!" a shout came out and a horse whinnied.
Ariadne turned to the sounds of horse shoes clopping on the street and the pretty work horse belonging to Mr. Eames came into view.
"Mr. Eames?" she questioned in shock as the familiar cab driver guided his prized horse to trot beside her.
"In the flesh. How are you?" he asked in a cheerful voice.
"I was just out for a walk. What are you doing here?" she asked. It seemed rude to ask what he was doing in the nicer part of the city, but she didn't want to say it.
"Ladies go visiting after church." he told her. "The lord may have rested on the seventh day, but we cabbies don't." he laughed.
"Oh." she said meekly and looked around. She almost expected Arthur to be looking for her. His scowl searching the crowds for his runaway bride.
She was a little disappointed not to see him.
"So, where are you going?" Eames asked.
"I'm not sure yet." she sighed.
"Well get in. It won't do to have a lady walk the streets." he said.
She didn't hesitate to climb into Mr. Eames' cabb and he nudged the pretty horse into traffic.
"My husband and I had a fight." she admitted. Although she wasn't sure why she was telling a virtual stranger this.
"That's good." Eames said in a cheerful voice as her glanced back at her.
"How is it good?" she wanted to cry.
"It's good for men and women to have a row every now and then. Proves there's still passion and love in the marriage. People are too refined and dainty now a days. Too concerned about what people will think. My Mum and dad, they fought every day and bounced the bedsprings every night." Eames said.
Ariadne blushed hot at the idea of what that meant.
"I didn't want to marry him." she admitted. "My father made me."
"I see." Eames said gently. "Does he treat you well?"
"Yes. He says he... well, that he cares for me." she said embarrassingly as they rode past a mob of people. The women carrying baskets of food to take home. The men, worn and weary from work even though it was Sunday and their day of rest.
"I think you're wishing for a fairy tale." Eames said wisely. "Take a look around you. Most of these men will get loaded at a pub later tonight. They'll go home, take it out on the wife. They'll be poor and unhappy for their whole life through and never know it could be better."
"Mr. Eames, that's what I want to change. I want women to be able to change their own lives and not be dependent on a man." Ariadne said hopefully. "They need the vote so they can make laws to be protected from abusive husbands. They need laws that say they don't have to have children if they don't want them."
"Does your husband abuse you?" Eames asked worriedly.
Ariadne slunk back in her seat and stared at the people passing by. The over crowded streets. The filthy children who were running around in their fierce games.
"No." she said at last. "He just, he doesn't understand me. He wants me to be something I can't be."
"I see." Eames said.
"If he only understood that giving women their right's won't interfere with men's rights at all. If he only saw that we're little better than slaves in their eyes." she said. Maybe Mr. Eames would understand. He seemed like he had more compassion than Arthur did.
"I sympathize with you." Eames said. "But those in power have never given away that power willingly. It's something that has to be taken from them. Never in the history of the world has a ruling class given up their status. It just won't happen."
"It will happen." Ariadne said stubbornly.
Eames shook his head.
"We have to accept that, for now, these men are in control of the world. They have the money, the land and the power. They make the wars and the railroads. I'm an immigrant, I have no rights at all. I can't even be served in a restaurant if the owner doesn't like where I came from." he said.
"So do something about it." Ariadne demanded.
"I do." Eames said defensively. "I tell my customers to boycott places that won't serve immigrants. It's not a war that will be won over night, Mrs. Brandon, and you're a brave solider for wanting to fight in it. But it's a long road ahead. Someday your daughters and their daughters will thank you for the struggle."
"I won't have daughters." Ariadne said. "I've not interest in being a mother. To be tied down to a house and family is apart of servitude men expect." she said hatefully.
"Oh, babies are not to blame for anything." Eames said kindly. "Babies are the only hope we have left. Women are particularly good at bringing in hope and we males don't give you enough credit for it. Without women and fat little babies, where would we be?" he teased.
Ariadne shook her head and felt the lurch of the cab was becoming too much. The smell of the cooking in the tenement houses was wafting through the air and didn't help her.
She felt her world go dizzy again and that hateful need to throw up gripped her.
"Stop the cab!" she shouted and lunged for the door.
Eames jerked the horse to a halt and the animal gave a sharp whinny in protest as Ariadne fell out of the cab.
"Mrs. Brandon!" Eames was shouting in worry as she fell onto the dirty pavement.
Her light breakfast of toast heaving out of her and as she threw up.
Instantly, she felt better. The sickness, the dizziness leaving her body as she pulled out a lace handkerchief and covered her mouth.
Eames was at her side in an second. His strong, capable body helping her to stand.
"Let's get you back home." he was saying as a crowd of curious children were looking at her.
"I don't feel well." she cried softly as Eames helped her into the driver's seat. He was quick to climb in beside her. Her body tired and slumping against the back as the horse went into a trot again.
"We're going home now." he gently as she tried to keep the dizzy feeling at bay. "I think the talk of not having babies is a bit too late now, darling."