“I’m not sure I fully understand the question,” he countered.
“If they are not equal, which is most important? The value of the woman or her rights?”
His brows knit. “Well, of course the value of the person is more important.”
She nodded. He could feel her posture stiffen as if his words had offended her, or she was expected to be offended.
“So you’re saying that you can restrain a person’s rights and validate that decision because it didn’t affect the intrinsic value of that person? Well, then my question would be, what good is the value of a person if they have no right to live in a manner that expresses it? Then could one truly call itvalueor is it just a pretty word?” she asked pointedly.
The waltz ended, and with a stiff posture, she stepped from his hold and waited for him to escort her to Morgan. With the music ended and people milling about, it wasn’t a proper time to finish or, rather, continue the conversation, but Rowles instinctively knew he had offended her greatly.
Yet he couldn’t exactly figure out how.
Because everything he had said was true. A woman’s value was God-given, not hindered by the law of a mere man or nation.
But something whispered that maybe, rather than hearing what he’d tried to say, she’d only heard an excuse.
However, he found no opportunity to talk privately with Joan because she avoided him the rest of the evening. And after the ball, as Rowles rode home in his carriage, all he could think about was history repeating itself.
Because tomorrow he’d pay another call to Penderdale House to give an apology, or at least clarification.
Only this time it would be to the other sibling.
He only hoped she would have the good grace to hear him out.
Ten
Joan woke up with a pounding headache and the lingering suspicion that maybe her temper had got the best of her…again. Maybe she had put too much faith in the duke too soon, or maybe she had completely misunderstood his meaning, but whatever the reason, she had retreated behind a wall and now she found herself stuck. Because it wasn’t as if she could pay a social call tohim. And if he didn’t want to clarify or continue the discussion, they would be at a stalemate.
And she didn’t want that.
Because, well, she liked the Duke of Westmore. He was intelligent and appreciated her keen mind—or at least she had thought he did. Maybe he enjoyed the novelty of discussing and debating with a woman occasionally, only to excuse society’s social and law restrictions on women because it didn’t affect their value. She closed her eyes and lay back on her pillow. As she thought over it, the point he’d made wasn’t terrible.
But she’d, well, wanted him to champion the cause, not excuse the reason it needed to exist. But in truth, she could have misunderstood so much. Yet it was too late now, and only time would decide if the rift between them was something that could be mended.
She glanced to the clock. The women’s society would be meeting again in two hours, which meant she needed to get up, get dressed, and send a footman to hire a hack. The women’s society met in Lady Sandra Bookman’s parlor, nearly twenty minutes away. They had met yesterday as well, but since next week’s meeting had to be canceled because Lady Sandra would be out of town, they had voted to do back-to-back meetings.
In short order, Joan had accomplished all that needed to be done and was stepping into her hired hack with the arranged chaperone. The mist and smoke swirled around Hyde Park as they passed by and went deeper into the center of London. The stone buildings blurred together till the carriage halted in front of Lady Sandra’s home. The widow of a wealthy merchant, she had used her funds to establish a meeting place for women to discuss and act on possible ways to enrich and establish women’s lives and freedoms.
They were finishing up their second read-through of Mary Wollstonecraft’sA Vindication of the Rights of Women. And a lively discussion would indeed follow today’s assigned chapters. Sure enough, as Joan entered into the house and started toward the parlor, she could already hear the raised and enthusiastic voices of her peers. The room was filled with familiar faces, save one. The room held chairs enough for all of them in a circle, and Joan selected a seat next to Lady Sandra.
“We are discussing the concept in the chapter regarding women’s need for education reform,” Lady Sandra whispered to her.
Joan nodded and turned her attention to Miss Sarah Clarke who was passionately stating a case for women’s continued education.
“It’s not enough to read and write and study embroidery. To hinder a woman’s education while supporting and pressuring men to continue with the enrichment of their minds is unfair. To have a university for men that will not allow a woman entrance is the worst sort of biased behavior.”
A murmur of agreement swelled among the group.
Joan listened to further talk, then after a brief pause added, “It is undermining to society as a whole to have women in a subordinate position to men and teaches future generations of women that it is acceptable to be told your value based on your education and societal rights. Women deserve the same fundamental rights as men.”
This brought on a fresh discussion, and in too short a time, the meeting was adjourned.
“You did well today,” Lady Sandra encouraged Joan as she stood.
“Thank you, yet I can’t help but feel a little…lacking?” Joan fought for the correct word. “We discuss, and yet nothing happens. I want…I want something tocomefrom this.”
Lady Sandra gave a sad nod. “I understand. It takes time. We stay the course, and eventually we will have more of a voice. But in the meantime, why don’t you explore another way to make a difference in young girls’ lives? I know your heart. Lady Joan, and it’s restless to do good. Have you heard of Thomas Coram’s Foundling Hospital? They contacted me asking for women volunteers. They have young girls who need to be educated, and this would be a fantastic opportunity for you to give young ladies—as you so passionately said earlier—a taste of a woman who knows her value and fights for greater influence.”