Page 47 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“I’m Emma.” She tilted her head towards her guard. “That’s Simeon. He does speak, but he’s more of an observer.”
In response, Simeon grunted with his familiar air of annoyance, confirming her statement.
“Do you know how to read and write, Emma?” Janet asked, reaching for a quill from the table.
“I do,” she acknowledged as she accepted the quill.
“Take a moment to read our petition and sign under the other signatures,” Janet explained.
Stepping up to the table, Emma and Simeon both read the petition. It was straight-forward. The petition was urging Parliament to redact the Corn Laws, citing how people were starving due to the rising food prices and chronic unemployment. Furthermore, it pressed the point of writers, such as William Cobbett, who were denouncing the inequality of the electoral system, as evidenced by rotten boroughs.
“What are rotten boroughs?” she whispered to Simeon.
Simeon leaned close to her, and she smelt his scent of musk and a hint of orange. He spoke next to her ear. “A rotten borough is an area that has found a way to unjustly gain unrepresentative influence in the House of Commons. It has a very small electorate, but it has the same influence of a large town.”
The warmth of his breath on her ear was immensely distracting, but she was able to concentrate enough to acknowledge his words. Not daring to move her face, she murmured, “How awful.”
Thankfully, Simeon stepped back, and she leaned over to sign her name. She completely agreed with this petition. She extended the quill to Simeon and noticed that he placed the quill down on the table without signing his name.
“May I have your attention,” a man’s voice shouted from the front of the room.
Turning her gaze, she saw Jerome standing next to a taller man, who was lean and dark, with sideburns growing down to almost his jawline. “Mr. Hatcher, our esteemed orator, wants to say a few words,” Jerome stated.
The man stepped forward. “Thank you for coming tonight and signing the petition. I hope that everyone plans to attend thepeacefuldemonstration in Templeton Square tomorrow. I’ve met with other districts, and they will be marching through the streets of London, as well. We hope our demonstration will garner more support for the cause, and we can gain more signatures for our petition.”
A collective cheer went up around the room. Mr. Hatcher put his hands out to silence them. “Do not bring weapons of any kind. We do not want to give the magistrates or constables any just cause to resort to violence.” His intense gaze traveled over the crowd. “Our families are starving because of the wealthy landowners passing these Corn Laws. The laws were passed even with riots outside of the House of Lords. Violence is never the answer, but we need to do something. We must act.”
As Mr. Hatcher started pacing in the front of the room, he urged, “If you have any coins to spare to help the cause, please consider donating them. Anything that we don’t use will go to buy bread for our next meeting. With any hope, that bread will feed the families that are struggling to put food on the table.”
Emma glanced over to a table near the front and saw a large pile of loaves of bread. She noticed that a few people approached it, and each ripped off a section of bread. The way they savored the bread in their mouths caused her heart to mourn. How she took for granted the bread on her tray every morning.
Jerome made his way over to her with Mr. Hatcher by his side. Stopping in front of them, he made the introductions. “Miss Emma, may I introduce you to Mr. Graham Hatcher.”
She tipped her head graciously. “Mr. Hatcher. You are truly a gifted orator.”
Mr. Hatcher smiled kindly at her. “Thank you, my dear. I heard that you wished to speak to me about the cause.”
“It’s true,” she said, reaching into her pocket and retrieving the pound note.
Accepting the note, Mr. Hatcher bowed. “Thank you, Miss Emma. Your generosity will help feed a large group of people.”
“I read the petition and heard you speak about the peaceful demonstration in Templeton Square, but is there anything else I should know about the Anti-Corn Law rebels?”
“May I ask why?” Mr. Hatcher asked, giving Simeon a baffled look.
Simeon stepped forward and answered for her. “I plan to write an article for the morning newspaper about the Anti-Corn Law rebels, but sometimes my cousin,” he paused, glancing disapprovingly at her, “is overzealous. I assure you that it will be most favorable.”
“Splendid news,” Mr. Hatcher replied. “I must admit that at first I thought Miss Emma was writing the article.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Which, of course, is ludicrous.”
“A woman writing newspaper articles. Can you even imagine?” Simeon let out a loud laugh.
Emma pursed her lips as she watched the two men converse about the Anti-Corn Law rebels, and Mr. Hatcher barely acknowledged her while explaining their mission.
Once Mr. Hatcher stepped away, Emma crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “That was rather insulting.”
Simeon nudged her shoulder and kept his voice low. “Dear cousin,” he teased, “you can’t go around telling people you are a writer for the newspaper. If you say that, it confirms that you are of higher social standing than them because you can afford the luxury of a morning paper, not to mention the leisure and education to write. Or they’ll consider you mad because women aren’t hired by the newspaper agencies. Either way, neither are good for our assignment.”
Reluctantly, Emma knew that he had a point. She lowered her arms and asked, “Cousins?”
