Storm and Silence

, suspicion etched into his roundish face. He probably thought I wa

sely. 'Manliness, manliness

the exact same moment I did. It looked flat as a board, betraying not

where my Uncle Bufford's old trousers bulged in a distinctly un-m

o

That was the word. It wa

s whis

eciprocated. Who was he trying to fool? He was no man. He was a girl. Whic

no uncertain terms. It scowled at me, not at all

innier, and didn't have so much of this–' I pointed to my de

tailcoat and trousers, which

ubby! We're trying to look manly here. Couldn't you at lea

alking by gave

ne, it was probably time to stop talking to my re

t that was part of my disguise from my uncle's wardrobe. My hair wasn't too long to be a man's, really, it only reached down to my shoulders. But not man

ed most of London's streets at this time of day, but I knew exactly where I was

litary, an

shop window had been a temporary one, a last chance to confirm that I looked the par

thoughts shot through my head like bees in a beehive rattled by a hun

a mission for all womankind. If you should f

el better, since that meant the

r. White columns supported a wide, classical portico that overshadowed the steps leading up to the entrance. The door had two massive

h spending the night in a prison cell, or with the fact that I had made a total mess of my plan,

k statues, chasing me through the dark streets of London all night, shouting: 'Stop her! Stop the feminist! She has to be at work on Monday! At nine sharp! Cat

heart hammering so fast I knew I woul

over the gutter of one of London's finest dingy alleyways. The door, of course, was designed to fit the standards of the window and was similarly crafted from highly decorative iron bars. The bed, as my back could attest, was also made to fit the highest standards, and was able to reduce your back muscles to a tangle of aching knots within five minutes. All in all, it was a

truth be told, they probably thought it was safer for the other prisoners. After all, they couldn't want those poor misunderstood thieves, burglars and murderer

fuge? Would I be sent to prison for daring to defy the laws of England? Or put in the stocks? Or transported to the colonies like a common thief? That last thought cheered me up considerably. I had heard t

colony. I couldn't leave. And even if I could get out of England, I knew I would rather stay and fight for my rights. Running from my proble

by the throat, and it had just slipped through my fingers. Would it be like that with every other kind of freedom? Yes, it probably w

uffed it into my sleeve to conceal it from the Bobby who had taken my personal effects. Yes, a