Hattie Glover’s Millinery

knew the heat of sexuality once awakened was not so easy to quench.
Even if Hardy asked to see her again, he could never be more than a passing fling. He’d made it clear what sort of relationships he preferred. But could she be satisfied with an adult affair, devoid of too much emotion, or at the end of it, would she fall into childish romantic ways and feel abandoned once more?
Shaking off her pondering, Hattie returned to the front to find Rose collapsed on the tall stool behind the counter. The customers had all gone.
Rose cooled her perspiring face with a feathered fan. “What a day! Felt as if half of London dropped by. I was ready to lock up and turn the sign to ‘closed’ about an hour ago. How is Miss Pruett? Has her situation improved?”
“Not really. Her Father still insists on the match, and her young man has disappeared.”
“Ah, the poor duckling. I hope she’ll find a way out of it.”
“As do I.” Hattie stooped to pick up a few feathers that had drifted to the floor. “I wondered… you are very young, only just twenty, and living in a boarding house rather than under your parents’ roof. Do you keep yourself quite, er, safe?”
Rose stopped fanning herself. “I never walk after dark, or if I do it is in the company of another of Miss Cecily’s boarders. Anyway, we girls must be in by seven when the door is locked. I feel very safe there. Safer than where I grew up.”
“Good. Good. But I was referring more to keeping company with young men.”
“Miss Cecily won’t let one in the parlor, not even Sally Drury’s beau and they are set to marry next month.”
“But in your off time, when you are with your friends. Do you girls ever attend dances or go to a music hall or picture show?”
“Sure, we do.” Rose cocked her head. “Are you asking if I meet fellows there, or if I have a beau? The answer is neither. I know too many girls from my neighborhood who ended up in a family way and wed by fifteen or sixteen. I vowed never to go that route and I won’t. You may trust me, Mrs. Glover.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hattie dropped the subject.
Coming from her rough background, Rose clearly understood the facts of life much better than sheltered Miss Pruett. But since it seemed to be her day to enlighten young women, Hattie had thought it an opportune time to talk with her assistant.
“Oh!” Rose sat up straight and her eyes rounded. “Miss Pruett! Is she in a family way?”
Hattie shook her head. “No. She feared she might be, but has her facts confused.”
Rose clicked her tongue. “Of course she does! Another example of women being kept ignorant and dependent. This is exactly what Mrs. Pankhurst and the WSPU are fighting against.”
Her strident tone startled Hattie. “Have you attended their meetings?”
“I’ve only read pamphlets. I know you don’t want any hint of such an association reflecting on the shop, so I haven’t talked to anyone wearing the banner in a place where I might be seen. But…” Rose stood up from the stool and clasped her hands together imploringly. “I do want to attend. I believe in their cause, just not enough to risk losing my job.”
Once more, Hattie found herself shoulder patting and soothing. “Do not fear. I would not be so demanding. If you feel it is important, then you should go.” She added with a wry smile, “Although I’d prefer if you did not stand shoulder-to-shoulder with your sisters when they stone government buildings or police.”
Rose shook her head vigorously. “I do not agree with all of the WSPU’s methods, but I would like to have a small part in helping the cause.”
“Keep me abreast of what you learn since I am not brave enough to take that leap.” Or foolhardy enough, her practical mind added. “Perhaps I could support the ladies financially. Let me know in what way I may aid them discreetly.”
“I will, Mrs. Glover. And thank you!” Rose threw her arms around Hattie and hugged hard. “I will be careful. I promise.”
Together they tidied the shop before Hattie bid Rose goodbye and locked the door. Another successful day of business completed, and another quiet evening ahead of her. No word from Mr. Hardy all day, although that shouldn’t bother her. Perhaps he might stop by tomorrow, or later tonight for another passionate interlude.
Or he might never contact her again.
All options were possible. She ought not be too attached to any one of them.
But as she turned off the lights and climbed the stairs to her rooms, Hattie wondered why a man always controlled those options. Why must a woman wait like a princess in a castle, helpless and demure, for her knight to come to her?

Chapter Ten
Sunday morning Hattie attended church service, praying by rote while scanning the heads of the congregation to count how many hats were hers. Church attendance of some denomination was mandatory for a respectable woman, and it wasn’t as if Hattie did not believe in God, she simply hadn’t made a close friend of him.
Afterward, she strolled toward Providence Street, enjoying the sun warming her face and the breeze cooling it. She might make herself a picnic lunch to take to the park. The entire day stretched before her with no orders to fill and nothing but time on her hands.
It was two full days since she’d heard from Hardy. Likely Hardy had already lost interest in her and moved on to some other romantic conquest—perhaps someone who hadn’t attacked him with her mouth as if she were going to devour him. Hattie winced at the thought of how nakedly needy she had been the other night.
She was nearly to the shop, when the ting-ting of a bell coming from behind her caught her attention. A second later, a bicycle whooshed by her. Guy Hardy flashed a