Chapter One

1909
NEW YORK

"And in conclusion, ladies...and gentlemen..." There was a murmur of amusement in the big auditorium, for there were very few men who attended Temperance O'Neil's lectures. They couldn't stand to hear the truth of what Temperance said, couldn't stand to hear and see what they had done to the American family.

"I say that the fight must continue, that we have not yet begun to make inroads into this problem, but we mustn't give up. We must continue!"

At that Temperance stepped back from the podium and dropped her head so only the wide wheel of her trademark hat could be seen. It was an instant before the women could get to their feet and start applauding. Looking up, Temperance gave them a dazzling smile; then slowly and with humility, she walked off the stage.

"You were wonderful," said Agnes Spinnaker as she put a small hand on Temperance's shoulder. "As always."

"Let's just hope it did some good," Temperance said as she twitched the curtain aside and looked out at the audience again. They were still on their feet, still clapping hard.

"You have to go back out," Agnes said loudly so she could be heard over the noise of the crowd. "You have to say something more. Do you have anything planned?"

"Oh, I have something planned, all right," Temperance said as she began pulling long pins from her hat. "Hold these, will you? I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"What in the world are you going to do?"

"Watch," Temperance said as she pushed aside the curtain, then went back onto the stage. As she stepped up on the little box that held the podium, she waited for the applause to die down; then when the room was quiet, she waited another few seconds. No one sat down, but the three hundred or so women stood in place, their hands ready to start clapping again; for whatever Temperance said, they were ready to applaud.

In the absolute quiet of the auditorium, Temperance looked down at the oak lectern in front of her, as though she were looking at notes and about to read from them.

But then, in one fast movement, she grabbed her big hat and threw it so it sailed high above the heads of the women, twirling, twisting, higher and higher. There wasn't an eye in the room that wasn't on that hat, one of her hats, one of Temperance O'Neil's hats.

The hat came down near the back row, and half a dozen women made a leap for it. Momentarily there was a tussle, with skirts rising above ankles, and buttoned leather shoes waving in the air. Then there was a squeal and a pretty young woman jumped up from the middle of the melee and waved the hat as though it were a flag won on a battlefield.

In the next instant the crowd went wild with excitement, clapping, yelling, stamping feet; there were even some whistles.

Temperance stepped down from the podium, gave a great wave to the excited young woman in the back clutching her newly won hat, then quickly left the stage.

"Oh, Temperance," Agnes said, "that was brilliant. Truly brilliant. I would never have thought of that."

"How many are out there?" Temperance asked as she walked briskly toward her dressing room, nodding toward the backstage door.

"Not too many. At least not as many as last time. After what happened last week, people are a little afraid of being hurt."

Inside her dressing room, Temperance reached down to open a hat box on the floor and grimaced. She knew that her theatrics helped her cause, and heaven knew that she needed all the help she could get, but she didn't like people to be hurt.

"How clever you are to have brought another hat. I guess you planned that gesture at the end."

"Of course," Temperance said. Agnes was a good person and she was useful, but she certainly had no imagination. "Is Willie out there?"

"Oh, yes. You know he'd give his life for you."

"Mmmm. Let's just hope he can get me out of here quickly tonight. My mother's ship arrived today. I haven't seen her in three whole months!"

"I'm sure she'll be very glad to see you. You look wonderful."

As Temperance glanced into the mirror, adjusting the replacement hat on her head, she smiled at Agnes. The newspapers alleged that Temperance surrounded herself with homely women so Temperance would look better by contrast. But when Temperance's mother had read that, she'd smiled and said, "But who wouldn't be plain-faced when next to you, dear?"

At that thought Temperance smiled at herself in the mirror. She had missed her mother so much over these last months. She'd missed having someone there when she got home, someone to listen to her escapades and triumphs. Even if some of the things that Temperance did frightened her mother, Temperance still told her about them anyway. "You're so much like your father, dear," Melanie O'Neil would say in that quiet voice of hers, then give a delicate little shiver.

Temperance's father, the beloved husband of Mellie O'Neil, had died when his daughter was just fourteen years old. But those few years had been long enough to instill in Temperance the fire that she needed to fight for women's rights for all the fifteen years since her father's death.

"How's that?" Temperance asked, turning to look at Agnes. "Am I presentable?"

"Oh, yes," Agnes said, clutching a program from tonight's lecture to her thin bosom. "You look wonderful."

"So do you," Temperance said, then gave Agnes a kiss on the cheek.

Blushing, Agnes looked down at her shoes. She was one of Temperance's "abandoned women," as the newspaper called them. Years ago Agnes had eloped with a handsome young man only to find out that he was already married. He'd abandoned her when he was told that her father had disinherited his daughter because she'd run off without his approval. When Temperance found Agnes, she'd been living out of garbage cans and her skin was covered with sores from poor diet and exposure. As Temperance did with hundreds of women, she had found Agnes a job, in this case, working backstage at the Kirkland Auditorium. As a result, Agnes would have walked across fire for Temperance.

"That's not the hat, is it?" Agnes whispered, looking at the huge hat that Temperance was adjusting on her head. It was black felt, with deep red silk roses all around the brim; magenta netting swirled over the flowers. It was the most beautiful thing that Agnes had ever seen.

"No," Temperance said, smiling, and making a mental note to buy Agnes a hat. "The mayor kept that hat. I think he nailed it to his office wall and throws darts at it."

Agnes's face screwed up into rage. "I'll -- "

"I was making a joke," Temperance said quickly. "I heard he has the hat in a glass box in his house. In a place of honor." With each word she spoke, Agnes's face relaxed.

"He should. Everyone says that your hat got him reelected."

"Perhaps. There! Now it's on." Opening the door of the little dressing room, she went into the hall. "I'll see you again next month," she called as she ran toward the stage exit door.

Sometimes Temperance wished the incident with the mayor and the hat had never happened. Never mind that it had been good for both of them. Still, sometimes she wished she didn't have to spend every minute in public in a hat big enough to use as a wagon wheel.

But, as she'd told her mother, if it helped even one woman out of an intolerable situation, then it was worth it.

And her hats had helped many women. Or at least the recognition of the hats had helped them. It was nearly seven years ago, when Temperance was a mere twenty-two years old, that she had first encountered the mayor of New York and had arrogantly asked him what he was going to do about the Millon tenement. A week before, the four-story structure had collapsed on top of seventeen women and children, killing four of them.