True to her word to her parents, Rosalind was at the registration office the day summer classes became available. Summer school the best use of her downtime in her point of view. She could stay on and tutor here, which would earn her money and her knowledge would be put to use rather than festering in her mind. These efforts would get her in the field that much earlier. Beside, her parents had made it clear that they preferred she stay at school until she gave up the silly notion of being independent.
When the man behind the counter at the registration office informed her that she was not able to sign up for classes she very nearly lost her composure. "Are you certain that I cannot take summer classes?" Rosalind clenched her hands at her sides as the man behind the counter looked her over. His gaze suggested she was some kind of mythical creature rather than a woman, but she was well used to people looking at her like some kind of anomaly. Though the incredulously glances were common she was in no mood to tolerate them form officie clerks.
She cleared her throat and glared at the man while she waited for him to answer her question. He coughed and looked down again, his eyes fixed the papers when he spoke. "Er, yes. Miss Lutece I'm afraid you don't qualify for any of our summer courses." He attempted to sound professional but the attempt was mediocre and transparent.
She huffed at him, leaning in a little closer to emphasize her annoyance. "I put my request in at the proper time, I passed my classes, I paid for these classes. Therefor I am qualified and I shall take them." She spoke evenly, her hands grasping the edge of the counter to restrain any further sign of emotion. If she started to scream at the man he would not help her and she doubted she would get a refund of her payment.
The man looked through his papers, unable to meet her eyes. "None of the teachers at your current level have openings in their classes." He was trying to sound matter of fact but Rosalind could see through that as well. If they were going to make men lie to her she wished they would hire men capable of doing so. Something was going on. She didn't know exactly what but it was almost certainly ridiculous. Everything about this endeavor was ridiculously complicated and uncomfortable.
"I'm certain that is not true." Rosalind replied evenly. She thought she should get a sainthood for how patient she was being. "I reserved a space, therefor I should still have one. That is how reservations work."
The argument probably would have gone on longer but a professor entered the office, coffee cup in hand. Rosalind recognized him as another of the physics professors (she'd memorized their faces the moment she'd arrived on campus and laid eyes on their portraits in the office). She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Professor Cohen, may I have a word?" She straightened up to face him, her annoyance hidden to make the encounter more favorable.
The professor paused, turning to look at the young woman who'd addressed him. He bore a superficial resemblance to West. Both had dark hair and substantial beards. While West looked like a man always one drink shy of violence Cohen looked thoughtful and curious. He didn't frown at Rosalind or cross his arms. In fact he didn't behave as though she was wasting his time at all. He mainly seemed surprised to be addressed. "Ah, yes?"
Rosalind cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you might have a seat open in your summer class schedule, or if you know of a teacher who does."
"Excuse me, miss Lutece!" The man behind the counter barked. "You're not supposed to bother the teachers!"
Cohen looked at the two, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "I must check. Are you really the infamous Rosalind Lutece?" His voice remained calm, despite the clerk's outrage at her impertinence.
Rosalind frowned, taken aback by the question. Why should she be infamous? She couldn't deny that was her name so she nodded mutely. What on Earth was going on with this school?
Professor Cohen gave her a soft smile and turned back to the clerk. "Please put Miss Lutece in my practical physics class if I have an opening available."
The clerk frowned at Cohen, then attempted to glance up at Rosalind surreptitiously. Rosalind gave him her best cold, unperturbed stare (which was only getting better with frequent use). "You heard the man." If there was a note of arrogance in her tone she was certain it was understandable, given the circumstances.
The clerk grumbled something and shuffled through the book in front of him. He noted her name down and slid a piece of paper out. "Book list, class time, and location." For some reason he sounded put out about the whole thing, which only fueled her curiosity. What did these people think she would do in these classes? Why would they attempt to prevent her from taking them?
Rosalind took the paper and gave him a gracious nod of her head. Sometimes being polite was the best possible form of insult. "Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day." She said it without emphasis, then turned smartly on her heel and walked toward the exit.
The man huffed but did not reply in kind. Rosalind chuckled softly as she slipped out the door and began her journey to the bookstore.
Three weeks into the lab she had to admit she was terribly bored and annoyed by the whole endeavor. Instead of working on her own problems alone she was assigned a lab partner. In the course of those three weeks she'd gone through four of them, despite the fact that they were not required to change partners. It seemed like none of her peers were willing to work with her.
On this particular day they were examining the effects of friction on motion. The task was relatively simple. Three different materials were laid out and the students were to drag a small wooden block over the items while their partner recorded the reading on a hanging scale and timed how long it took to get from the start line to the end. It wasn't impossible to take the reading on one's own but it meant juggling several different items at once.
Assuming her partner would want the enjoyable portion of the assignment Rosalind took up the stopwatch and clipboard. He looked at her with confusion, then took the watch from her. "I'll call out the times and weight while you write it down."
Rosalind frowned at him. "I am perfectly capable of taking the readings. We are supposed to be partners." There was something of a tired melancholy to her words, as though she had repeated them too much to really mean them anymore. Most of her partners had either taken on all the responsibilities or made her do all the work, only to take the credit.
The man snorted and began to set up his block. "Partners? You're here because the professor wants to impress you. We all know how you fawned over West." He gave her a knowing smirk. "Cohen even looks a little like him. I bet I know how you'll be passing the class."
Rosalind took temporary leave of her senses. She remembered tightening her hands on her clipboard while her vision went red with rage. A moment later there were hands on her arms dragging her up off her knees. Her knuckles hurt for some reason and she was somewhat surprised to find that she was yelling imprecations at her lab partner. He was certainly worse for the wear. The man was laying out on the floor, curled up with his face in his arms. Their classmates dragged her away. She was too startled to fight them. Her body slumped and her expression became one of shock and horror.
Professor Cohen moved to help the boy to his feet. Now that the attack was over the young man refused to look at Rosalind. He had a cut on his forehead and what looked like the beginning of a black eye. The cut matched the curvature of the corner of the clipboard a little too precisely to be coincidence. Rosalind pressed her lips together and remained silent. This was it, then. Fighting was certainly against the rules and she might as well say a fond farewell to the career she might have had.
The man touched the cut and looked at his fingers. The sight of his own blood seemed to enrage him anew. He whipped his body around to face Rosalind and took a step forward. Rosalind braced herself for an attack. The arms around hers tightened, either to stop her from escalating or to hold her in place. Her fears turned to the more pressing worry of whether or not the teacher would allow this man to take revenge on her. With so many allies she could not fight him back. Her stomach clenched and became heavy and she felt herself becoming a little lightheaded.
Professor Cohen put his arm across the man's chest, clearing his throat. "That's enough. You're scientists, not boxers. Lutece and Bradbury will clean themselves up and meet me after class. Lutece at four, Bradbury at five. I suggest you both use the time to reflect on your actions." He gave them both stern looks, keeping his arm on Bradbury's chest to ensure that no further mayhem ensued. Rosalind relaxed again and found that her knees were a little weak. Now the arms on hers were holding her up instead of back but she still found she could not be thankful for them.
Bradbury turned and left the classroom. Rosalind took a deep breath and attempted to settle her nerves. After a couple seconds she managed and the men released her. She went to retrieve her belongings, her hands shaking the whole time. She was certain she'd be expelled or arrested for attacking the young man. She felt foolish for the act. Perhaps he had deserved it but the risk was not worth the dubious reward.
Her meeting was in an hour so Rosalind went directly to Cohen's office and took a seat. She opened the novel she carried with her in case of just such an emergency. Pride and Prejudice/ was a recommendation from Lauren and so far Rosalind was enjoying it. In her current state of mind she couldn't concentrate on the book. Her eyes scanned the same page over and over again until she gave up with a sigh and shook her head. Instead she stared at nothing and worried.
She was bouncing her leg and each bounce hit the floor with a noticeable tap. After five minutes of this a clerk looked up from his filing and sighed. "Miss, please control yourself."
Rosalind almost made a snarky comment, but she decided it wasn't worth it in the end. She took deep breaths and tried to get her mind back into her reading. Fidgeting wouldn't make the time pass faster, after all. It was difficult to focus on the words at first, but once she forced herself to get through a whole page she lost herself in the story.
It felt like almost no time had passed when Professor Cohen tapped the door to his office to draw Rosalind's attention. She looked up sheepishly and took her feet, tucking her book back under her arm. "Hello, Professor."
Cohen nodded cordially to her and opened the door. "Please come in, Miss Lutece." He didn't sound angry or grave. He was as polite and unemotional as the day they'd met. In her current state it did nothing for her nerves, but at least he did not make them worse.
They were both silent until they took their seats. Rosalind sat rigid in the chair before his desk. It reminded her sharply of grade school when she'd shoved a girl for mocking her habit of reading. There was something of a pattern to her behavior in that regard. She felt ashamed. The feeling came upon her all at once, doubled because she had not felt it before. Hitting the boy didn't make her feel remorse, but losing her temper might put her career aspirations in jeopardy. It was a silly thing to do and she had no doubt that she'd hear the same from the professor.
Cohen cleared his throat. "Rosalind, I want to let you know that I have seen how much trouble the men in the class have given you. I cannot condone your actions but I can understand your frustration." He sounded paternal, in a way. Like he was personally aggrieved by her actions.
Rosalind was quite surprised at how the conversation had begun. He was more sympathetic than anyone else she'd ever met. It made her feel strange. Her shoulders unknotted a little and relaxed, but she frowned deeper. There had to be a catch. "I sense that you're about to say, 'but'."
Cohen gave her a wry chuckle. "You know that you can't hit your classmates." It struck Rosalind how relaxed he was being about the whole thing. She'd expected fury and lectures. This was. . . a nice change. Her respect for him rose. Perhaps men were not all the same.
"I know." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "He could have said anything about me, honestly. It's just. . . he was impeding the experiment. All of my partners have. I feel that my work is suffering for their stupidity." She spat the last word out, like it was the worst insult she could possibly imagine. Truthfully there was nothing that Rosalind disliked more than the stupidity of her peers. She had hoped they would be above this sort of petty nonsense.
Cohen nodded. She thought his expression seemed sympathetic. That was surprising. She was used to adults dismissing her or telling her that she would simply have to become used to that sort of treatment. "Then I suppose there is nothing for it but for you to work without a partner."
Rosalind was surprised at the idea, though she couldn't say she was displeased. At least her failure would be at her own hands. "Really? I thought collaboration was the soul of research." Just because it would be easier did not mean she necessarily wanted to do things that way. It would do her no favors to learn to work on her own in a field where cooperation was important, after all.
Cohen nodded. "It is, but I imagine you'll have difficulty finding much earnest collaboration. With that being the case perhaps it would be a disservice to force others to work with you. I'm certain you've heard this quite a lot but women in science are rare. You will receive this treatment all the time for the rest of your life. It is not enough to love physics, Rosalind. You must love conflict. You must strive for conflict, and to prove yourself. You have to want this more than any of your peers and you must show the same spirit you showed in that lab this morning." He paused to let those words sink in. Rosalind mulled them over, looking down at her hands. "However, you cannot fight this like a child. You must fight with your brain and your words, rather than throwing a violent tantrum." He was gravely serious, his pleasant amusement gone. When she looked up his gaze was stern but not angry.
Rosalind sighed, resting her elbow on the desk and her head in her hand. He was probably right. It was disheartening. She just wanted to devote herself to science, not put up with male egos. "That is a waste of my time and theirs."
Cohen nodded and sighed as well. "I know. It is. It will be a drain, and it will be daunting. Sometimes you will believe that you cannot ever succeed because of the political forces at play, and it will hurt more than you can bear. I can only advise you to be brave and to accept that you are intelligent enough for this work, and that your voice is needed, whether the common rabble believes it is or not."
Rosalind was speechless after all of that. Nobody had ever been so frank but nonjudgemental. "What if I can't withstand all of that?" She felt terrible admitting her fears, but Lauren could only understand so much. Lauren was used to having to take orders from doctors, it was part of her job description. Rosalind hoped to never take orders from anyone.
Cohen reached over and touched her forearm gently. "It will be hard, and perhaps sometimes you may need to take a step back. That's acceptable and good for you. I think that you can do this, Miss Lutece. Whether you want to or not is for you to decide."
Rosalind nodded and tucked the information away for later perusal. "Am I going to get in trouble?"
Cohen shrugged. "It depends on whether the young man can convince an administrator that you hit him. I doubt he'll even report it, but you will almost certainly deal with petty spite from him."
That annoyed Rosalind. When she spoke her voice became louder and more angry. "He accuses me of something blatantly false, something which soils my name and reduces me to nothing but some kind of. . . what? Stalker? Deluded girl who only studies science to find a husband? Is that even a thing that happens? Especially to someone like West?"
Cohen shrugged. "I have never encountered it. I'm afraid that Professor West has done you a disservice by starting this rumor. I'm surprised that it's common enough knowledge for the students to have heard it. Unfortunately you don't have much recourse. He claims that you attempted to seduce him and that he nobly turned you away."
Rosalind stared, mouth open for a moment. How dare he say such blatantly false things! She opened and closed her mouth several times before she stood, her hands clenched at her sides. She had brief but tantalizing thoughts about going to West's office and strangling him with her bare hands. It would be so delicious to choke the life out of him for telling such a blatant and horrific lie. It might even be worth the punishment she would receive.
Cohen stood as well, much slower and more carefully. Rosalind glared at him, then shook her head and turned away. She spoke softly, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry. The thought of him touching me is horrifying. I can't even imagine desiring to have a conversation with him, much less becoming his wife." She shuddered. Even saying those words made her want to vomit.
Cohen moved around behind her. Curiosity drove Rosalind to glance over her shoulder. He was lighting a burner under a pot of water. Apparently they were going to have tea. She used the moment to take a few more deep breaths. Cohen was the one who broke the silence. "I'm sorry. I wish this could be easier for you. From my observations I understand that the claim is ridiculous, but that may be why you had such trouble finding summer classes. The only thing you can do is continue as you are and attempt to ignore the rumors. They will die without oxygen, like a fire."
Rosalind huffed. "And in the aftermath my reputation will still be tarnished." Her tone was sharp and waspish. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Yelling at Cohen would not fix the problem. She was being extremely childish.
Cohen took his seat again. "Yes. I'm afraid that would happen even if you were not pursuing the sciences. It is a sad part of society that we perceive putting someone else down as raising ourselves up."
Rosalind huffed and sat down again, her arms crossed over her chest. "Ugh." That little syllable held her deep disgust for the whole thing and her sincere desire to rid herself of all the nonsense.
Cohen chuckled softly. "I concur. Chin up, Miss Lutece. You're a fine woman and that will be evident to those worthy of your time." His voice was more cheerful now.
Rosalind let out one wry chuckle, allowing his cheer to influence her mood. "If such a person exists I shall possibly die of shock."
The relief Robert felt to be far away from West was almost miraculous. Away from the stress of being in close quarters with his roommate and the irritation of taking classes from the man who'd made a fool of him Robert began to feel much more like himself. When he was invited to a game of cards with some of his old summer friends he took the chance eagerly. He felt that spending time with familiar acquaintances was just the thing he needed to put his disappointing romantic life out of his mind.
He did find solace in the event, though it was unclear whether that came from the company of friends or the copious brandy he consumed. Robert wasn't used to drinking, especially not to excess. He found himself laughing very easily and loudly. The other men were all sharing stories about their luck in love and courtship. Without the drink the subject might have been depressing. As it was, Robert thought the whole thing was hilarious. There was a part of him that was apprehensive about the conversation, but each swallow of his drink lessened the volume of that tiny voice.
The others were having so much fun talking about their exploits and trials that Robert couldn't help but join in. Unfortunately the only real courtship stories he could share were stale. At the time it seemed irrelevant. After all, these sort of stories were more the domain of boys, not the men they had all become. He finished his drink and leaned forward, a wide smile on his face as he began to speak. He formed his words carefully and slowly to counteract the slur that colored his tone.
"I once had a girl nearly throw herself at me." Robert confided with a grin. The other men all turned to look at him in surprise. "I know. I've always been dedicated to the bachelor lifestyle but apparently I didn't make that clear to her. We were at a party and she leaned forward, all but falling out of her dress. I tried to do the right thing, you know, and push her back upright before she embarrassed herself. She dodged toward my hand," Robert illustrated the motion while his companions howled with laughter, "And it landed square on her bountiful assets." He put his hand on his own chest to illustrate.
The men laughed at his retelling of the affair. He smiled brightly, pleased to be the center of attention and the reason for their laughter. Robert didn't bother to restrain his slur this time. "Poor Bridget, I do hope she found someone equal to her appetites."
One of the men at the table fell silent. His fellows seemed not to notice. "Bridget Brookwood?"
Robert nodded, realizing only after he'd done it that he should not have confirmed or denied that question. He sobered a little, running his hand through his hair. "Why do you ask?" HIs stomach felt strange, now. Like it was too heavy and too full.
The man replied angily, the clarity of his words showing that he was much less effected by drink than Robert. "Because that's my brother's wife. You must be lying, she's been a woman of unquestionable virtue the entire time I've known her."
The man to Robert's left snorted. "Ha! Her virtue used to be unquestionable because it wasn't present."
Robert put his hands up. "Other than this one interaction she was a paragon of virtue while in my presence." He didn't want to be responsible for ruining someone's reputation. Especially not a charming, intelligent woman like Bridget.
"You must have missed her when she was younger. She was quite the scandal when she was younger." The men laughed and began sharing stories about the young woman. Robert felt his stomach drop and a feeling of heaviness came over his heart. The woman's brother in law gave Robert a stony glare. Robert couldn't stand to hear the inevitable stream of recollections he'd begun. He mumbled an apology and took his leave, his head hanging down as he contemplated what he'd just done. It wasn't intentional, but he was certain there would be repercussions.
He started to walk toward his parents' home, his hands shoved into his pockets. "How on Earth do I keep making these mistakes? I should know better by now." His head was still swimming a little from the drink. He could walk straight, but only with concentration. He hunched his shoulders up, making himself smaller. "I suppose drink does not agree with me any more than it does my father. That's rather disheartening."
His mind lingered on those dark thoughts for a few moments. It was likely he had done Bridget some harm by sharing his story. It was wrong for her to have done the thing, but when a woman's worth came from her good reputation it was careless of him to soil hers. "I shall simply have to make it up to her," he resolved. There must be some way to repair her damaged name.