Caramel | A Short Story Collection ✓

11. The Accidental Suffragette

Mary had many plans for the summer, and not one of them included being in jail.

"Please!" She pleaded, her hands clinging onto the bars so tightly that her knuckles went white. "This is a mistake; I'm not a suffragette!"

The police officer eyed her with contempt. "That's what they all say," he sneered. "You women should go back to the place you belong."

"But I'm not a suffragette! I'm a lady." Mary knew without the officer's snort that her story sounded ridiculous; her face was smudged with dirt, her clothes were torn, and her elegant curls were flattened with the heat and lay limply around her face.

"Lying will get you nowhere." He approached the cell, and Mary gulped, stepping back a few inches. Her mother had great plans for her marriage, and didn't want any gossip about Mary circulating like it did around some of her friend's daughters, so she forbid Mary to ever be alone with a man that was not her father or brother. This man was not a relative, and he looked physically strong. Mary had heard the stories about girls who walked around London by themselves, and her breathing quickened.

But all he did was say, "Go back to raising your children," and spat at her feet before walking away.

Mary was left shaking in silent indignation. She was fifteen; she didn't have any children to raise, and besides, that was a nanny's job! She was so caught up in her plight she barely realised she wasn't alone in the cell until the woman behind her spoke.

"Don't worry, love." Mary spun around to get full view of the wizened old woman sitting at the back of her cell, grimy knees pulled up to her chin. "You should be proud of yourself; you're helping the women get the vote."

Mary stared at the woman, confused by her words. "But I'm not a suffragette." She continued to protest. "This is a misunderstanding."

The woman's eyes softened. "Aw, pet. How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Mary reluctantly admitted, aware of what her mother had always taught her. Don't trust anyone, especially not the poor. Poor people were desperate, and desperate people thought nothing of slitting your throat to get the pearls around your neck.

"You're going to hate it at first, but you're going to have to persevere. It'll all be worth it in the end, even if they do stick some tubes down your throat."

Mary's hands flew up to her delicate, slim neck. "Pardon?" She choked.

"I'm talking about the force feeding, of course." The woman babbled on obliviously. "No doubt you've been warned about it."

Mary shook her head violently. "I'm not a suffragette." She emphasised loudly. "I won't be participating in this force feeding."

"If you're not a suffragette, then why were you arrested for throwing rocks through shop windows with the others?"

It appeared the elderly woman was more observant than she let on. Framing her words carefully, Mary answered, "I was riding with my sister to the dressmaker's. Over the summer my mother is taking me to her sister's residence in order for me to mingle at balls and make my introduction to society - I am young, but I am more than ready and able for it. We were delayed by the suffragettes screaming and tearing up the streets, and in an unladylike fury that was extremely unbecoming and wrong of me, I went into the streets to try to persuade them to stop holding everyone up. Unfortunately, I got dirtied in the process, and the officer mistook me for one of them."

She paused. "The suffragettes are ruining my future. They tarnish the reputations of respectable young women."

"We are doing it because of your future!" The women spoke sharply, and Mary was quite taken aback. Nobody ever addressed her in anything less than soft, polite tones. "We don't want women's only option in life to be to marry and maintain a house and family. We are doing it for girls just like you. You should be grateful to us and all we've done."

Mary stared at her. "You're a suffragette? But you're so old and frail." May knew it was rude to call her that, but Mary was her superior in every sense of the word and had a right given to her by birth to look down on those like the old woman.

"It's not so unlikely as you being a lady." The woman's eyes darted around her, and Mary caught a glimpse of her highly hysterical sister accompanied by an army of servants to retrieve her from her unjust position. "But it appears you're telling the truth." She fumbled in her pockets before retrieving a beautiful blue sapphire necklace that Mary suspected might have been stolen. She pressed it into Mary's hands. "Try to remember those who have given their lives to furthering your prospects the next time you talk down to suffragettes."

It didn't take long for Mary to forget about her experience in jail, and certainly no-one else in her family dared to bring it up, afraid some gossiping neighbour would spread the word of her disgrace. Mary thought nothing more of the woman until one summer's night at her aunt's house as she struggled to find jewellery to match the blue gown she was wearing to her first proper ball. It was then she remembered the sapphire necklace, and she slid it around her neck. It cleaned against her skin as if it had always belonged to her.

It was somewhat strange that the woman who'd presented her with this stunning necklace was also campaigning for women's rights to help her. Mary didn't even know the name of the woman who hoped she could have a brighter future.

In the midst of swirling skirts as she danced that night, the woman slipped from her mind once more. But the necklace would always serve as a reminder that the suffragettes were on her side.