Bless the Bride

“I’ve been enduring the same teasing from our more militant sisters. I’m Sarah and I’m also getting married in a few weeks. So we shall be twins—the two redheads who will defy the odds and remain true to the cause after they marry.”
    “I’ll wager you won’t have an easy time of it, Sarah,” another of the women said. “Your intended seems horribly conventional and old-fashioned to me.”
    Sarah flushed. “Well, he has been raised in that kind of society, so I admit that my task won’t be easy, especially if we go back to England.”
    “Your future husband is English?” I asked.
    “The honorable Monty Warrington-Chase,” Gus said with a grin. “Son of an English peer. Our sister Sarah will be a lady one day.”
    “She may be able to influence her husband in the House of Lords,” Carrie said. “The women of England are having a tougher time than we are, but in spite of it are acting with greater bravery and audacity—throwing themselves in front of carriages, chaining themselves to railings. Foolhardy, but one must admire their courage.”
    Sid touched my arm. “So Molly, we’re dying to hear about this assignment. What could the mysterious rich gentleman have wanted that has wearied you to the point of exhaustion?” Her eyes twinkled as she said this.
    I looked around the group. It was somewhat unnerving to have those earnest faces staring at me. “Oh, but I don’t think I should interrupt your meeting,” I said. “I should go up and change out of these crumpled rags and leave you to your discussion.”
    “As to that, I believe we’ve agreed upon everything that we can tonight,” Carrie said. “Elena will continue to write her series of articles on injustices to women, and we hope that some may be published in the national press.”
    “And Annabel and I will try to persuade Mr. Samuel Clemens to join us at the rally next month,” the sharp-faced girl said—I believe she was Mildred. “His endorsement could really give our cause the boost it needs. He has a wonderful way with words.”
    “Well, he would have, wouldn’t he, being a famous author,” another of the young women said drily.
    “Samuel Clemens?” The name was somehow familiar to me.
    “Molly, you remember. Samuel Clemens is the author Mark Twain. He came to one of our parties once.”
    “So he did.” A picture came into my head of the white hair and bushy eyebrows, and a surprising endorsement of women’s suffrage.
    “So tell us about your adventures today while I go and make another pitcher of sangria,” Sid said. “Only talk loudly enough so that I don’t miss anything.”
    “Well,” I began, enjoying the shock I was about to give them. “You’ll never guess where I have been today—” I looked around. “Chinatown. My employer is a Chinese man of great wealth.”
    “Mercy me,” someone muttered, but the others merely looked interested. Nobody swooned or reached for smelling salts as proper young ladies should have done.
    “And what can you possibly be doing for a Chinese man of great wealth?” Gus asked, pretending to be shocked when I knew that little could shock her, in spite of her delicate appearance.
    “Ah, well, I don’t think I can share the details of my assignment,” I said. “I assured the gentleman that I would keep our dealings confidential. He is most insistent that I not discuss it with Daniel.”
    “Phooey,” Sid said. “As if we’d breathe a word to Daniel. And now that you have tantalized us with the mention of Chinatown, you can’t leave us in suspense.”
    “We simply must know, Molly,” Gus said. “Is it something awfully sordid? Will we blanch and swoon at the mere mention of it?”
    They chuckled.
    “Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you, as it seems such a prosaic task,” I said. “I’ve been asked to recover a piece of jade jewelry that has been stolen.”
    “What a letdown,” Sid said. “A stolen piece of jewelry. That sounds more like a straightforward job for the police.”
    “That’s what I said, but he claimed that the police would do nothing to help a Chinese person. He sees them as the enemy.”
    “And how does he expect you to recover this stolen jewel?” Sid demanded, leaning back from her route to the kitchen. “Does he think you’re in touch with fences and crooks?”
    “I’ve already tried all the pawnshops in the area,” I said, “and most of the jewelers within a mile or so. Frankly I don’t know what else he