The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies

We shall be useful. But just as importantly we shall be defiant, occasionally ill-mannered, and completely indomitable.

The future is uncertain and thus holds the possibility of happiness for us all;

All I will say is my brother’s narrow idea of Christianity seems to bring more suffering into the world than relief.

I had heard recently that there were those who thought coffee disturbed a woman’s mind. I always found it rather sharpened mine. Perhaps that was the real objection to it.

This book is dedicated to all the women out there who no longer have the patience or desire to put up with any nonsense.

What makes you think he is trustworthy?’ ‘ He has a sense of humor,’ I said, and then added the final proof. ‘And he found my observations funny too.

Perhaps the god whose existence I now questioned would smite me for sitting in his house. A philosophical absurdity—if he did not exist then he could not smite me. In the last month or so I had found it took a great deal more philosophy to doubt than it did to believe.

Men impinged upon women without thought; another male right in a world of male rights.

I took a coffee and sipped at the rich flavor. I had heard recently that there were those who thought coffee disturbed a woman’s mind. I always found it rather sharpened mine. Perhaps that was the real objection to it.

If you need me, just yell,' he said. 'Ladies do not yell,' I replied over my shoulder. 'But renegades do.' I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors as I passed; my color was high and I had the remnant of a smile upon my face. There was no getting around the shameful truth: for all the danger we were in, I was enjoying myself.

I based the appalling conditions and treatment of the women at Bothwell House on reports about the infamous York Asylum and Bedlam Hospital found in the excellent book Bedlam by Paul Chambers. While York and Bedlam were public hospitals, a large number of private madhouses, as they were called, were run as profitable businesses by people who often had no experience or interest in treating those living with mental illness.

In the short time I watched, she was in some way encroached upon by every man who passed: a comment, a gaze held too long, or in one instance a threatening step toward her and a laugh as she drew back.

was also true that after I learned about coverture from my reading, I became less and less inclined to hand over my half of our inherited fortune and all my legal and property rights—including the rights of my own body—to a husband. It would have to be a grand love, indeed, for me to willingly merge so completely with a man that I was all but legally obliterated.

It was also true that after I learned about coverture from my reading, I became less and less inclined to hand over my half of our inherited fortune and all my legal and property rights—including the rights of my own body—to a husband.

Thornecrest did not look like a prison, but how many handsome houses throughout England incarcerated the women within?

It had also been many years since I had felt the hollow despair of being only adequate in face and body. I did not like the return of such violence upon myself.

Consequently, my sister and I believed that if a man did accept and enjoy a woman’s humor, it was a sign of both intelligence and worth.

He took the offering and positioned it behind his head with a baleful look. 'If I recall, it is your fault I have lost a great deal of blood,' Undeniable, but then again, I had not started the encounter. 'If I recall, you attempted to rob us.' His mouth twitched upward. 'Touché.' 'And your companion tried to shoot my coachman.' He nodded soberly. 'Yes, not well done. My apologies, I told him there was to be no shooting, on any account.' The edges of his mouth quirked up again. 'I must point out, however, that you commandeered my senseless body to play your brother.' 'True.' I sat back. He was very quick. 'Perhaps we could call it even.' The quirk broadened into a smile. 'I like your idea of fair play, Lady Augusta.

My brother pursed his lips. 'Love? Really, Augusta, this is an important decision. If you think love is essential to a good match it is no wonder you are still unmarried.' 'Duffy, that is unkind,' Julia said. He shook his head, realizing he had also insulted his favorite. 'I beg your pardon, Julia. I did not mean to offend you.' 'No, you meant to offend me.' I gave my brother my best false smile.

The story of the women in the stables is based on a terrible case of thirteen elderly women kept every night in a small cell in York Asylum for years without amenities or anywhere to sleep and which was never cleaned out. The accumulation of feces had built up so high that the air grates were clogged. They were found more or less naked and covered from head to toe in their own waste by tenacious reformers,

The heinous kidnapping and rape of young girls for the “virgin cure” did occur in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and probably started much earlier, with documentation of it in the Renaissance. When I researched this distressing crime, to my horror I discovered that it is, in fact, still occurring to this day. It seems that in some ways humanity has not traveled very far in terms of ignorance, superstition, and crimes against children and women.

I had come to the ball to dance with a murderer.

I still wanted to be more than this world allowed me to be, just a spinster past her prime.

This has been a long time coming. I could not bear to see you die the same way as mother and Aunt Elizabeth. That is not the work of a merciful god. I no longer feel the holy affections. At all.

Besides, there would be few men in this world who would believe that two women could even conceive of such a daring plan, let alone two women well past their prime. To be constantly underestimated sometimes worked in one’s favor.

It was almost a prayer, but the hypocrisy of calling upon a god I doubted pulled me up. Still, some part of me craved the intercession of something other than my own inadequate self.

The knowledge of it sat within me like a flinty stone, always grating upon my spirit but occasionally shifting into this sharp jab of fear.

In the last month or so I had found it took a great deal more philosophy to doubt than it did to believe.

To be an apostate was worse than being Catholic.

I know your condition is not close to needing a surgical cure, but if it came to it, why would you accept death when there is possibility of saving your life?