Evie's War Read Online Free

Sundays. Unfortunately Miss Winstanley’s reaction was somewhat immoderate and her mother’s attention was engaged. Edmund was dispatched to walk Miss Winstanley around the garden — for which he does not thank me — while I was obliged to explain what had caused her agitation. Neither Mother nor Aunt Marjorie could see any humour in the exchange, and I am in disgrace. Which at least may spare us further invitations from the Winstanleys.
11 July
    Uncle Aubrey thinks my comment amusing, though he says it may have been wiser to leave out the reference to Sundays.
Sunday 12 July
    At Church I found myself an Object of Interest. Aunt Marjorie says I have certainly managed to pique local attention, and that I must endeavour to control my ‘more outlandish tendencies’. I am resolved hereafter to ‘show myself in a good light, lest our name be permanently tarnished’ — and shall henceforth assume that the English lack all sense of irony.
14 July
    Lady Braybrooke and her niece, Miss Bartlett, called. I have begun to feel like a piece of livestock at market. Aunt Marjorie was perfectly charming and I perfectly circumspect. Miss Bartlett ended our interview with an invitation to accompany her two days hence to visit Bridge End Gardens in Saffron Walden. Mother was both reluctant to allow it, in case I should embarrass her further, and equally reluctant to risk offending so important a personage as Lady Braybrooke. In the end it was agreed I might go, if the weather is fine, and was thereafter subjected to copious intructions on my conversation and behaviour.
16 July
    Miss Bartlett says she hopes and believes that she has found a kindred spirit. She talked a good deal more than I, and largely on topics about which I am not well informed. She is a campaigner for Women’s Rights — which fact I suspect is unknown to Aunt Marjorie — and describes herself as a great admirer of the New Zealand Parliament ‘for their laudable decision to grant women the vote’, adding that she found it shocking that Britain should ‘so lag behind our Colonies’. To her suggestion that I might speak to the next meeting of the Women’s Social and Political Union, I made haste to decline, saying that, rather, I would be delighted to come along and learn. She insisted I was too modest, but as I am not yet of an age to vote and had not till this afternoon heard of the WSPU, I do not think it so!
    Miss Bartlett grew pinkly enthused telling me about the organisation’s founder, Emmeline Pankhurst, and the great sacrifices women have made in their battle to receive recognition for their cause. I was rather horrified when she described the death of Emily Davison, who last year threw herself under the hooves of the King’s horse. I really cannotsee how her death helped achieve equality for women, but Miss Bartlett is quite convinced that her ‘brave act of martyrdom’ has been in some way beneficial. Not for Miss Davison I thought, but did not say.
    Aside from her interest in politics I found Miss Bartlett refreshing. She is some few years older than me and has enjoyed a liberal education. She was impressed to hear of Lettie and said she must be encouraged to press her case for Oxford. ‘Women’s Rights have been too long forgotten, but the time is come for change. The whole world is changing and we must be sure to be part of it.’ Her zeal is quite catching; I suspect Mother would not approve.
17 July
    Lettie writes to say that I should try not to be shocking. Which of course I do not! We are to dine with the Morecombes tomorrow and Mother has been severe in her admonitions of what I can and cannot say.
18 July
    Just back from Catmere Hall, where I behaved meek and mild enough to impress even Mother, which I fancy proved a disappointment to some in the party. The men were much engaged in a discussion of the situation in Europe. I shall ask Miss Bartlett’s view at the