Muse by Brittany Cavallaro

Author:Brittany Cavallaro [Cavallaro, Brittany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062840257
Google: pnx8zQEACAAJ
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Relenting, Duchamp offered her an elbow. “Come. Let’s tour the Women’s Building. I hear there is a pavilion dedicated to your sex’s accomplishments. One wonders if it is the size of a rabbit hutch.”

As they strolled through the Women’s Building, past the model kindergarten, the mock hospital, the rotunda devoted to women’s reform work, Claire listened with half an ear to Duchamp’s explanation of the building’s design and wondered. Every exhibit here pictures the woman as helper, she thought. How we help men, children, the sick and dying—but if we say one thing about helping ourselves, we’re branded as revolutionaries. Duchamp pointed to the grand hall that would house the First Women’s Congress in a week’s time.

“And what will they discuss?” Claire asked as Duchamp led her back down the grand staircase to the lobby. “How to change bedpans, perhaps, or how best to entertain a child on a rainy day?”

“You mock your sex’s accomplishments.” He paused on the landing as fairgoers streamed past them with little regard for Duchamp’s status. “Many see this Fair as a show of might, or patriotic folly. Or as a mere entertainment, something to take their minds away from the drudgery of their lives. No. I intend it to be educational. You travel for miles and miles. You pay a pittance at the gate. You loft your parasol, you drink your lemonade. You walk through magnificent buildings, laid out according to law and reason. And in these places you learn about the world.”

“But you determine what they learn about the world,” Claire said, surprised at the desperation in her voice. Why is it so important to me that he understand this?

“Of course,” Duchamp said. “I’m their Governor.”

Claire let go of his arm. “Will you show me the rest of the Fair?”

Frowning, Duchamp took a step back, nearly trampling the two men behind him. He didn’t seem to notice. “If I have offended you, I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “I’d like to see the damage to Mr. Tesla’s pavilion. On the way there, perhaps you can tell me more of what the women’s congress will be discussing.”

It was clear that the Governor could tell she was upset, and that he didn’t know what to do about it. “We’ll stroll together,” he said, as though to himself. “We don’t need to give anyone a show.”

The congress would discuss many things, he told her, from the ethics of dress to the role of the woman banker, the woman scientist—all those things of special interest to women. “The goal is to imagine a new world, I think. The endeavor is led by the Daughters of the American Crown. You might be familiar with the work they do in the Home for the Friendless, or in the poorer districts of the city. They are forward-thinking women. People. Forward-thinking people.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m familiar with the D.A.C.”

“I thought you might be,” he said. “As I said earlier.”

It hadn’t come up, in all the time they’d spent together—her loyalties, that meeting with Abigail Monroe and Rosa Morgenstern.

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