Page 46 of The Wallflower Manifesto
“Well?” Millie pressed, too tired to play coy.
Ember’s eyes rose to meet hers. “Listen,” she said, “it’s the truest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s brilliant and compassionate, and I wish I’d had a copy as a girl, but Millie … this is a declaration of war.”
“War?”
Ember nodded. “They are going to do whatever they can to track down the woman who dared say these things out loud. When Dot took to the gossip sheets against Freddy, she was tracked down in a matter of days, and that was just a cry against one man. You’ve challenged all of them.”
“I didn’t say a single thing about men,” Millie protested, gripping the arms of the chair. “Not a single thing.”
“Well, yes,” Ember nodded. “They can’t abidethat.”
“Ember,” Dot said in the same tone a governess saysshush.
“What?” said Ember, scoffing. “It’s true.”
“But not helpful,” Dot said, finally abandoning the scone to its plate, pockmarked by her nibbling. “We would do well to remember that the last time we went to war, we won.”
“Last time, you wanted revenge on a man who had demonstrably done us wrong,” Millie said miserably. “I’ve apparently attacked everyone and no one all at once. There’s nothing to gain or to win this time.”
“Infamy is not nothing,” Ember said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Indeed, you could play it to your advantage if you were suddenly known to every important person in London.”
“I would rather not, Ember.”
“You might not have a choice,” Dot said, not unkindly.
“Or you might have to choose quickly,” Ember added. “It would not surprise me if someone else took credit. There is a lot of speculation going around, and it has only been a day.”
“Who would do that?” Dot demanded, clearly shocked by the suggestion.
“Anyone with enough status and security to entertain the gamble,” Ember replied easily. “Audacity is a privilege few can afford, but there are enough mediocre poseurs flitting through London today who would jump at the chance for an ounce of recognition, earned or not. Think of all the failed poets and weak-chinned second sons out there, desperate for a moment to shine.”
Dot grimaced, her eyes dropping back to the temptation of that scone.
“You said there was speculation. What are they saying?” Millie asked, the dread of knowing almost drowning her resolve to ask. Her stomach gave a sickening roil, thudding back into place like an internal round of applause for her foresight in declining that scone.
“Oh, all manner of nonsense.” Ember flicked her hand like she was swatting at a gnat. “I’ve heard it's a satire, a clever attack on bluestockings and emancipation, or that it is a ploy by the Tories to destabilize the realm.”
“Well, that’s dramatic,” Dot muttered.
Ember nodded with a chuckle. “And of course, many of the patrons at my club refuse to even consider that something so articulate was penned by a woman. The few whodoconsider it assume it has to have been the queen herself, or else some unhinged dowager looking to sow discord.”
“Oh, of course,” Dot replied with a curl of her lip. “Almost as though the very premise of a letter to and for women requires itself proven.”
Ember only shrugged. “Well, you know what they say about a fool and his gold. It wouldn’t suit me to have clients who were wise, would it?”
Touché,thought Millie, her thoughts rustling and colliding together over the murmur of the conversation as it continued around her. She looked down at the circular, upside down from this vantage, but with the title still bold and large.
They had changedwildflowertowallflower, she realized. Was it her poor penmanship? Or had they knowingly denigrated her message before it could even be spoken? Had they assumed that no one would choose to be a wildflower if they could be a rose instead?
It made her want to cry.
Dot and Ember were arguing about the best path forward, and somehow, she could not focus on a single word in the murmur of the exchange. She knew what they would be saying, anyhow. Caution and subterfuge or boldness and risk.
It was a collision of two maps, written for sea and sky when Millie herself was quite firmly limited to land.
She watched them, marveling at the fuzziness of the reality around her as Ember left her seat and began to pace and Dot snatched the scone back up and went hunting for a quill to plan their stratagem.
Nothing at all was clear to Millie.
