Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Y our note said it was urgent," Hannah said. She sat across from Mattie in the vicarage's small parlor. Her maid, Ernsby, was disposed near the window, having accompanied Hannah to Locksmore in the Heywoods' carriage.

It was the first time Hannah had been invited to the Winthrops' modest home. Located but a few miles from Camden Place, it was a thatch-roofed structure, with a neatly arranged interior, furnished in dark wood and overstuffed chintz. Two aging wolfhounds were stretched out at odd angles on the worn carpet, and a well-fed black cat was curled up in a wingchair.

A grandmotherly-looking housekeeper had brought in the tea tray the moment Hannah had arrived.

Mattie was unusually somber as she lifted the white porcelain pot to pour out their tea. "It is urgent." She passed Hannah a cup. "Though not, perhaps, as dire as I made it seem."

"Is it about my cat article?" Hannah had posted the piece to Mattie several days ago and had yet to hear back from her.

"No, no. That is…it does concern your essay, but not for any reason you might think."

"Then you approved of it?"

"Without question. Your writing is succinct and non-judgmental, with a good helping of sentiment."

Hannah winced. "Was I too sentimental?"

"Not at all. Sentiment is a good thing for the cause. Often, the best way to reach a person's mind is through their heart." Mattie took a fortifying sip of her tea. "No. It's not anything you've done, but something I have done, quite unintentionally."

"You had better just have out with it," Hannah said. "It cannot be that bad."

Mattie lowered her cup back to its saucer, her brow furrowed in a deep line. "I was, perhaps, overambitious when I said that the Animal Advocate would be a monthly publication. I have been beside myself this past week assembling all the elements together for the printer. I might have predicted that something would go wrong."

Hannah waited.

"The crux of it is…" Mattie moistened her lips. "I forgot to use only your initial on the attribution for your article. It has gone to print with your full name, Hannah Heywood."

"Oh." Hannah blinked. "That isn't too?—"

"It's bad," Mattie said.

"Surely not. My contributions have already been published once with my name."

"The horse article was published with your initial. The H might have stood for Henry, or Harry, or Hal. Now, however, everyone will know that the article was penned by a Hannah."

Hannah felt a stirring of pride at the prospect. "I am glad for them to know," she said. "The sentiments I expressed in that article are nothing I'm ashamed of."

"I agree. You've done nothing wrong, not by any logical measure. But the dictates of a lady's season are far from logical. It is one thing to be called a bluestocking, but to be spouting support for cats, and in such an unashamedly brazen fashion?—"

"Brazen!"

One of the wolfhounds raised his head at Hannah's tone of sharp astonishment. He dropped it just as quickly, lapsing back into a snoring doze.

"In print, it is brazen, yes," Mattie said. "It's asserting your opinions as though they were on par with a man's. And like it or not, cats are associated with spinsters. The satirical magazines are forever pairing them together with comic drawings. If it becomes widely known that you have joined the ranks of cat-loving maidens, and in print, no less, people will remark on it. They live for such sport."

Hannah scoffed. "It is too much ridiculousness."

"It is the world we live in."

"Yes, but rational people?—"

"Forget rational! You are on the marriage mart. Everything you say and do is weighed in the balance. A better friend would have taken that into consideration before printing your article. Indeed, I more than anyone should have known the danger. I know the high price of eccentricity."

Hannah listened to Mattie in growing disquiet. Was it true? Could people really be so smallminded? So judgmental? All because Hannah had dared to sign her full name to a printed article espousing basic kindness to animals?

"I am sorry," Mattie said. "I would undo it if I could."

"Can you not?"

"The journal has already been printed." Mattie set aside her teacup. She took a deep breath. "I am left with only two options. I can either send the journal to my subscribers as it is, or…"

"Or?"

"I can have the printer destroy the copies he's made. It would mean that there would be no issue this month."

"You could not simply have him make the correction?"

"He would have to reprint it," Mattie said. "And I can't afford the cost. My budget only stretches to one printing. Even that much is barely within my reach, and only because of the subscriptions people have taken."

Hannah frowned. She understood the repercussions. Still, she wasn't dissuaded by them. "You must send it out as is."

A horrified gasp escaped Ernsby from her place by the window.

Mattie leaned forward. "But Hannah?—"

"You haven't many subscribers yet," Hannah said. "And those who have already bought subscriptions share our views. They will not be shocked to see my name in print, if they notice it at all."

"It isn't only my subscribers who have access to the Animal Advocate ," Mattie said. "I received permission to distribute copies at the draper's in Milsom Street, and at the shop of a modiste I'm acquainted with in St. James's Parade. Any of their customers can help themselves to a copy from the stack I leave on the counter."

Hannah was impressed rather than alarmed. "That is very enterprising of you."

A fleeting smile touched Mattie's lips. "One tries one's best." She at once grew serious again. "Of course, if I do go ahead with the issue, I can certainly refrain from giving away any copies this month."

"You needn't refrain," Hannah said. "Not on my account."

There was another gasp from Ernsby

"The risk to your reputation would be greater—" Mattie began.

"I know the risks," Hannah said, as much for her maid's benefit as for Mattie's. "But having strong beliefs means being strong enough to stand by them, no matter the cost."

Hannah's words did little to appease Ernsby. The lady's maid gave voice to her concerns the whole of the drive back to Camden Place.

"Everyone goes to that draper's shop," she said from her seat across from Hannah in the carriage. "Ladies and gentlemen alike, and their servants. It won't be a day or two after Miss Winthrop sets out those journals, or whatever you call 'em, before all of Bath knows your name and what you've allowed to be printed about yourself."

"Not about myself," Hannah replied. "About caring for one's cats."

"It is about yourself, miss. Everything a young lady does during her season reflects on her character."

"I hope it will," Hannah said stoutly. "There's nothing in that article that I wouldn't proclaim from the street corner if I thought people would listen."

Ernsby closed her eyes at this pronouncement, as though praying for divine intervention.

It was an overreaction, Hannah told herself. Nevertheless…

On returning to her parents' house, Hannah felt the faintest prickling of anxiety. Not because she regretted what she'd written, but because she suspected that Ernsby was right. The very act of having one's name in print was borderline scandalous for a young lady.

And worse.

Hannah now had someone else's opinion to consider. Someone who had only a few short weeks ago expressed justifiable misgivings about her ability to move in fashionable society. Someone who would now have verifiable proof that his suspicions had been proved right. If news should reach his ears…

What would James think?