Page 12 of The Secret of the Dashing Detective
“Be that as it may,” he said firmly so that she would not argue any further, “I will wait inside, although I promise to be unobtrusive.”
“Very well,” she said with a shrug, turning back to him once more before knocking on the door. “Perhaps you might also learn a thing or two.” She flashed him a quick, cheeky smile before turning back around, and he wondered what that might mean, but forgot it as the door opened to reveal a short woman with a wide, welcoming smile.
“Lady Juliana, I am so happy you are able to join us again,” she said, reaching out and half-hugging her. “I was so worried after your brother—”
“All is well,” Lady Juliana interrupted, and Matthew had a sinking feeling that he had been manipulated into taking Lady Juliana somewhere that Giles would not have approved of. All he could do now, however, was follow her in and see what came of this.
* * *
Juliana was slightlynervous as she took a seat on Mrs. Stone’s pink floral sofa, which was pretty, if slightly worn. Juliana knew that Mr. Stone worked hard as a milliner, but their home, while lovely and comfortable, was a far cry from what she was used to. It made her feel rather guilty that she had so much while others had so little, but she was also aware that to try to make any offer would only affect the Stones’ pride. And so she attended the meetings, leaving her privilege at the door, and participated as any other. That wasn’t why she was here.
She took a deep breath in and out as she tried not to allow her nerves to overwhelm her. She had never been nervous at these meetings before, except perhaps her very first one. She had a feeling it was due to Mr. Archibald’s presence, although why that would so bother her, she had no idea. He affected her in some way, although how or why, she couldn’t be certain. He was just a man, a man who had been hired by her family. But she had already been embarrassed enough today by the scene he had witnessed when her mother had ambushed her with Lord Hemingway. Goodness, how little control could one person have over her own life?
And Lord Hemingway himself. She sighed. He was so pleasant that it was difficult to find any reason to say no to his suit or courtship. She thought of Emma, and knew exactly what her friend would tell her – to not settle unless she had found true love. Which was fine for Emma, whose true love had been standing in front of her nearly her entire life. Juliana, however, was already three and twenty, her come-out having been delayed by first her father and then her father’s death, and she knew she didn’t have much time to search for the passionate love Emma had always so desperately wanted. Not when she desired a certain life, one that included the ability to further her cause and be with someone who would allow her the freedom to do as she pleased. If nothing else, Lord Hemingway would likely allow her to do so.
She fidgeted in her seat, stealing glances at Mr. Archibald, standing stoically against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He had this uncanny ability to simply be. To stand there, doing nothing but observing.
Juliana could hardly imagine anything more unnerving. She always had to be doing something – if not moving, then in conversation. It was also why she hadn’t yet given up her horrific needlework. It kept her hands busy.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mrs. Stone said, as she stood before the armchair that was placed at the front of the room. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Juliana smiled at everyone as they greeted one another. There was the poet, Mr. Smith. The physician and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone. Another young woman about her age, Miss Polley, and a middle-aged couple, the vicar Father Abbot and his wife.
“Today we are here to discuss our next steps, including how we would like to spread our information, to encourage more people to join us and to make a difference. Does anyone have any suggestions?”
They all looked at one another around the room, before Juliana hesitantly stood up.
“I do have one.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Stone said with an encouraging smile.
“What if we were to create a pamphlet?” she asked, looking around at them all. “We have much expertise in this room. Mr. Livingstone could provide the medical information on how he has seen a natural vegetarian diet heal various ailments and provide general overall wellbeing. Father Abbott can perhaps provide us passages from the Bible for religious evidence to confirm our suppositions. And Mr. Smith, I am sure you can write beautiful verses to accompany their words.”
She smiled at them all as she spoke to each of them, and she could see how they glowed in the praise.
“The rest of us can work together on providing various viewpoints and amalgamating all of the information into prose that can help convince the public.”
There were some nods around the room.
“That is all well and good, Lady Juliana,” Miss Polley said, pushing her glasses up her nose as she crossed her hands in her lap. “But what of those who cannot read? Or who cannot afford to purchase such a product?”
“I am not suggesting that the pamphlet come at any cost,” she said, shaking her head. “On the contrary, I believe it would be best to disseminate it for free so that more people are able to read it. Perhaps we could also provide some illustrations? I do not suppose anyone here is particularly artistic?”
They all shook their heads.
“Well, I suppose we would have to hire someone,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But it is most certainly possible.”
“That is a wonderful idea, Lady Juliana. Thank you,” Mrs. Stone said.
“How would we afford this?” Mr. Smith asked, and Juliana wrung her hands together. She knew how it must look to the rest of them. Her family had more money than the rest of them combined many times over. And yet she had no ability to access nearly any of it.
She did, however, have a small allowance for clothing and small extravagances. Perhaps if she was able to save it for a time, she could pay for the printing. She certainly could not ask Giles for the money to do so.
“I shall fund it,” she said with far more confidence than she felt.
“Are you certain?” Mrs. Stone asked, peering at her. “Please do not feel obligated to do so.”
“Although it would hardly make a dent in her family’s coffers,” Mr. Smith added rather unhelpfully.
