A Bloom in Winter by T. J. Brown Page A

and arguments had taught her a thing or two. She began ticking off items on her fingers. “Fund-raising, education, delegation, a moderator to smooth relations between the different suffragette groups, an entire committee of people to do fieldwork . . . people can’t work or vote if their children are starving to death.”
    Martha’s dark eyes lit up. “You have more than a passing knowledge of our challenges, Victoria. May I call you Victoria?” When Victoria nodded, Martha continued. “It is difficult to do everything, but there is such need !”
    Martha’s voice quivered with passion and Victoria was fascinated by this charismatic woman who clearly had a deep desireto make a change in the world. “How did you become involved in the movement?” Victoria asked.
    “I suggest we eat our tea,” Martha said.
    Obediently, Victoria took a small bite of the watercress sandwich Lottie had placed on her plate. “That’s hardly fair. I told you my story.” Victoria swallowed, remembering the last time she almost used the word fair. Briefly she wondered what Kit was doing, but then she squared her shoulders and turned back to Martha.
    Martha’s brows shot up in amusement. “So fairness is important to you, is it? How old are you?”
    Victoria hesitated and then shrugged. She had no reason to be ashamed of who she was. “I’ll be nineteen next month.”
    Martha smiled. “And that also answers my question about why you still think things should be fair. So, what exactly would you like to know?”
    Victoria flushed and then cleared her throat. “What is your real name and your father’s title?”
    Caught off guard, Martha startled, then narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you’re a cagey one, you are. I can hide my identity from almost everyone except my own kind. Which is why I generally avoid you all like the plague.”
    Martha pushed away her plate and flicked open a gold and ivory compact. She took out a cigarette and lit one up to the dismay of the other patrons, but Martha’s commanding and confident presence seemed to dare anyone to protest her desire to smoke. She looked up. “I’m sorry, do you want one?”
    Lottie and Victoria both shook their heads. Then, not wanting to seem like a prude, Victoria explained. “I have asthma and the smoke seems to worsen it.” She almost choked on the word asthma.
    “I mostly love the way they smell,” Martha said, blowing a smoke ring over her head. “Back to your original question. My real name is Beatrice Martha Longstreet and my father is a count.”
    Victoria raised an eyebrow. The Longstreets were definitely peers but didn’t travel in the same circles as the Buxtons. “How did a Longstreet end up running a subversive suffragette organization?”
    “How did a Buxton end up applying for a job at a botany magazine?” Martha countered, and Lottie laughed.
    After a startled moment, Victoria joined her. “Touché!”
    Victoria tried to help pay for their tea, but Martha waved her off. “You gave me a wonderful story for the newspaper and I owe you for it. Now, let me escort you and Lottie home.”
    To her surprise, Martha led them to a small, plain Saxon Motor Car. More surprising, Martha worked the crank and then climbed in.
    She looked across at Victoria and grinned. “Well, get in! My apologies for the snug fit. I have found that a small motorcar is much more convenient.”
    Expertly navigating the narrow roads, clogged with people and horses, Martha pressed the gas pedal and drove east. “This is one of the few luxuries I decided to keep when I started the organization,” she yelled over the sound of the engine. “I can get about faster and can relocate women in need more quickly than if we were taking the Tube or a cabbie. It just made sense. Besides, I love to drive!”
    She swerved around a corner, barely missing a woman pulling a cart of chickens. Victoria clutched the handle and laughed. Martha glanced sideways at her and then, after a moment, joined