Finding Felicity

Chapter Eight

^a thank you for her very thorough (and very nice!) review of this story :)

The next morning, the atmosphere between Ethan and Felicity was dry. As they walked together in silence to the college library, Felicity hoped that their moment of unity and understanding from the previous day was not lost. Most of all, she did not want to lose his friendship.

She hugged her files and papers closely to her chest as the thought crossed her mind. Furiously trying to banish the terrifying idea from her mind, she quickly squeezed her eyes closed, scrunching her face up. She was alone here, but not completely. As a woman, she utterly isolated, but as a man she had Ethan. She did not want to – she could not – lose that, or she might go mad.

Ethan, noticing his companion’s hunched shoulders, gently touched her arm.

“Are you cold?”

Though the wind had picked up in the past week to deliver a biting chill as December approached, Felicity shook her head. Ethan sighed and removed his hand.

Felix’s silence unnerved him. Maybe it really was the sudden change of the weather to a more wintery  mix of wind and cooler temperatures, but he felt colder without Felix’s chatter. He felt alone without it. He had his other friends at the university, but Felix was another type of friend.

Frowning at this thoughts, Ethan put it all down to Felix’s small size and the elderly brother feelings of protectiveness that it inspired.

Both were soon jolted from their reveries when, as they approached Kings College, angry shouts and calls arose.

“Bluestockings!”

“You’re not wanted!”

“Cow!”

Walking on the opposite side of the road to Kings College were four young women, guarded by two stout older women in dark clothing. The young women themselves were not dressed frivolously. Instead, they wore dresses of navy with very little lace and detailing. Their backs were forced to be straight by their corsets, but Felicity could see how their shoulders still hunched over, trying to deflect the insults. As the shouting continued the chaperones moved closer around their charges, hustling them along.

When one man screamed through the railings “WHORES!” and it was echoed by others, Felicity watched aghast as one of the young women closed her eyes, and a solitary tear slid down her pale cheek.

Ethan and Felicity rushed to the railings, where they found Edward, the word “whore” just dying on his lips which were parted in a wide grin. Felicity remembered that day, which seemed so long ago, when they had all picnicked on the banks of the River Cam in the late autumn sun and an argument had arisen over women at Cambridge. Edward had called them whores then, and here he was today, calling them whores to their faces.

“What’s going on?”

“The senate is going to consider admitting women again this afternoon. Jonathon came running down the street and told us the bluestockings were approaching. It all kicked off then! I fancy there’ll be riots later on, riots like 1897!” Edward practically cackled with glee.

Felicity’s face contorted in disgust. She had been willing to agree to disagree with him, but what she was seeing now was entirely unreasonable. Looking around her, she saw the leering faces shouting crude insults and cheering each other on, even though the women had long since passed.

Early that morning, just as the sun had risen and dawned another day on Cambridge’s spires, Felicity had sat at her desk, preparing herself to pen a letter to Ethan by the light of the flickering gas lamp, apologising for her sudden absence. By the time the bell rang to wake them, the letter was only half-finished. It still remained half-finished as she stood there with Edward and Ethan. And as she stood there and took in the calamity around her, she resolved to tear the letter up as soon as she returned. She had been going to leave- to give up. But that was not an option.