“Oh, Phoebe,” she said, her voice just over a whisper. “I must say … that sounds magnificent!” Phoebe grinned at Julia’s support. “I would read it, to be sure, and not just because I’m your friend. I often become bored by the newspapers and journals available. If you can do it right, this would be of interest to so many ladies. You would be the talk of London! Though,” Julia mused for a moment, “you would be met by those who would not be supportive. You would be considered scandalous. Besides that, it would be quite the undertaking. How would you even propose to go about it? To fund it?”
“I have my inheritance,” said Phoebe, holding up a hand when Julia looked as though she was going to protest. “When —if— I ever marry, it would only go to my husband. This allows me to do something with it that would make a difference, that would have meaning. I will be sure there is always enough to manage the household, my everyday living, and provide for Aunt Aurelia, of course. Besides that, the idea is only to use it to begin, and then sales would take over. I will find a building, hire staff, acquire a printer. I actually just finished making notes of all there would be to do when you arrived.”
Julia was nodding at her words, though she began to tap her foot on the floor, a sure sign that she had thoughts to share. “I must say, Phoebe, when you are determined about something, there is no stopping you. Though you must be careful. If word emerged that this is of your doing, you would be shunned. I’m not sure that any gentleman would want to tie himself to a woman who is making such statements. You would not attach your name, would you?”
“I have thought of that,” Phoebe said and, remembering the tea tray, picked up the pot and poured a cup for Julia. “I will keep my name anonymous. I will hire an editor and writers, though I will write a column myself. And if, for any reason, my name should come out, then so be it. I would rather do this than do nothing but complain about the way things are.”
“You are brave, Phoebe,” Julia said in an awed tone. “I admire you for it. I must ask one thing of you, however.”
“Of course.”
“Do you have room for a column on horse racing?”
“It is certainly a topic we could try,” she said, looking at Julia with interest. “And why do you ask?”
“Would you consider me as a writer?”
“Of course!” Phoebe exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I welcome you as the first employee ofThe Women’s Weekly.”
“I love it,” said Julia with a small smile of her own. “And I thank you. What you are doing, Phoebe, it is extremely admirable.”
“Someone has to do it,” Phoebe said with conviction. “So why not me?”