Free A Death for a Cause by Caroline Dunford

Richenda’s tired face. Her hair was coming down and in the unflattering light of the early dawn she looked grey, haggard, and ten years older than her actual age. It occurred to me, much as I imagine lightning strikes a rod, that for the first time in her life she was feeling guilty in her actions towards me. Perhaps this was even the first time she had ever felt guilt. Richenda had mellowed magnificently since she had married Hans, and even more since adopting Amy. Who was I to deny her the opportunity of further emotional growth? 22
    â€˜I would,’ I said slowly, a plan forming in my mind, ‘contact any of the other sisters I knew and attempt to find out what I could about Aggie Phelps. It may be she was the firebomber and was accidentally caught up in her plans. If she was I am sure there will be rumours of her involvement in the more militant side of the movement.’
    â€˜Wait,’ said Richenda, ‘are you suggesting she might have been murdered too?’
    I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. The key is finding out what Aggie was like. If we can find out about her maybe we can work out why she was in a First Class carriage at the railway station rather than on the march.’
    â€˜I take it she wasn’t a woman of substance?’
    â€˜I haven’t heard anything about her to suggest she was other than a working woman,’ I said. I was warming to this plan, but I felt divulging the information Fitzroy had given me about her place of work would be crossing a line too far in the spy’s eyes. I had no idea how many women in the movement Richenda knew. She certainly had not been inviting them to dinner at the Muller Estate, but maybe she could root out some rumours. Fitzroy was good with rumours. ‘You’ve never heard of a Martha Lake, have you?’ I asked.
    Richenda shook her head. ‘Why?’
    â€˜She’s in the cell with me and I don’t think that’s her real name. She has …’ I sought for a generous phrase, ‘breeding.’
    â€˜Snotty cow, you mean?’
    I gave a slight smile. ‘That may be one way of describing her. All of us are finding the situation difficult, but she seems totally unprepared for the unpleasantness of prison.’
    Richenda lowered her eyes. ‘I had read the accounts of women imprisoned, but if I am honest I thought it exaggerated. And goodness knows, we have suffered very little of what I have read, and yet it was – awful. The attitudes of the men. The treatment.’ She reached out a hand to me. ‘I am so sorry I got you involved, Euphemia. I should have told you where we were going.’ Then her gaze turned steely. ‘But I will tell you this: after what I have seen and experienced this day I am more committed to the cause than ever before. I only joined the Sisterhood to annoy Richard and our father, but now I see how very much needed it is. How this is a war that must be won. How far the patriarchy will go to discredit us, to humiliate and belittle us, is incredible. I would go so far as to suggest that a man might even have planned that firebombing to discredit the movement!’
    I blinked slightly at that. It was a thought that had not occurred to me, and it was without doubt worth passing on to Fitzroy.
    There came a loud bang on the door and it was flung wide open. The hateful sergeant who had brought me down stood in the doorway. ‘Time’s up!’ I got up before he could manhandle me. Richenda passed me the box. ‘What’s that?’ shouted the man in blue. His hand went to his whistle.
    â€˜It’s a cake,’ said Richenda quickly. ‘It’s already been examined.’
    The sergeant came over and peered into the box. ‘And very nice it looks too. Go down nice with a cup of tea that will. The boys will appreciate it.’
    â€˜But I brought it for Euphemia. The chief constable …’
    â€˜The chief is tucked up nice and