"Oh, Mr. Arthur, I presume your visit this time means the factory has been fully constructed?" Ms. Dorothea, ever the meticulous facilitator, began the conversation with Dutch, her voice brimming with eager anticipation.
"Of course, ladies. My presence here signifies readiness: to recruit the formidable female workforce, and to claim the machinery and raw materials you so graciously helped us secure." Dutch paused, a disarming smile playing on his lips, taking a sip of his coffee. "Oh, and of course, dear Ms. Dorothea, with great capability comes even greater responsibility. This monumental recruitment effort will still require your exquisite organization, all under your esteemed name."
Ms. Dorothea's face threatened to split from her beaming smile. Her gaze swept over the other three noblewomen, then she spoke, her voice radiating confidence. "Oh, Mr. Arthur, alright, sir. This recruitment shall be handled by us, but not solely in Dorothea's name. Rather, in the collective names of Dorothea, Alice, and Ann. I wonder…"
"Oh, that's simply magnificent, ladies!" Dutch interjected, picking up her words with practiced ease. "All the work can be organized precisely as you see fit. You know, I am but a humble businessman; my sole focus is on conducting my affairs. Of course, not only is our factory poised to commence operations, but our clothing stores have also begun their renovations. I envision a grand opening when we officially launch, perhaps with the three dear ladies present to cut the ribbon with me, right in the designated women's gathering place within our very clothing store. I trust that in Strawberry, Rhodes, and Valentine, those ladies will all rejoice at your arrival."
Dutch's words flowed, an irresistible current. As he suspected, these three women had been summoned to share the spoils, or rather, to share the reputation, to draw women into their burgeoning sphere of influence. In doing so, they would inevitably elevate their own families' standing and amplify the power of the women's rights movement itself. The benefactors behind the women's rights association were, without a doubt, specific influential families. Lower-class women, after all, were consumed by the daily struggle for survival, with little time for abstract concepts like suffrage.
Moreover, the burgeoning women's rights movements across the globe shared a peculiar characteristic: they rarely emphasized the right to equal work, but overwhelmingly demanded the right to equal voting. This singular focus clearly revealed whose interests stood to gain the most from female enfranchisement.
Listening to Ms. Dorothea, Dutch noted her subtle phrasing. She spoke not in the collective name of the Wicklow, Heidy, and Lemieux families, but rather as "Dorothea, Alice, and Ann." This subtly distanced their families from any potential fallout, making it a "personal" endeavor if it failed, yet a glorious family directive if it succeeded. Very shrewd. I didn't expect such intricate political maneuvering abroad. Dutch, however, cared little for their intricate games or who ultimately benefited most. His immediate objectives were simple: make money and gain influence.
Thus, upon hearing Dutch casually cede all rights to fame to them, the smiles on the faces of Ms. Dorothea, Ann, and Alice widened, becoming almost rapturous. Dutch's own smile was utterly uncontainable. What did it matter if the accolades went to them?
The true orchestrator was Dutch, and even if he never overtly claimed credit, his name would only swell in stature. Furthermore, every one of his shops, and even his factory, would become inextricably linked with the women's rights movement, ensuring his ladies' clothing would sell like wildfire. Especially with a dedicated gathering place for noble young ladies and women in Saint Denis, he could hardly imagine the sheer volume of his business.
"Oh, Mr. Arthur, you are truly our benefactor!"
"Thank you, Mr. Arthur, you possess a remarkably kind heart."
"Oh, Mr. Arthur, thank you beyond measure!"
The three ladies expressed their gratitude with profound sincerity. Ms. Camille, however, remained seated in thoughtful silence, observing the scene with keen interest, her expression indicating deep contemplation. It was clear she harbored her own designs, and with the formidable power of the Morgan Family behind her, she might well attempt to directly replicate Dutch's ingenious approach. Of course, such an endeavor would hinge entirely on the guarantee of profitability.
Ms. Dorothea, her impatience barely contained, spoke, "In that case, Mr. Arthur, let us proceed immediately to view the equipment that has arrived. Oh, and the recruitment! Since we circulated the news, the ladies have been waiting most impatiently!"
"Of course, Ms. Dorothea," Dutch smiled and nodded. The group exited the café, following Ms. Dorothea towards the bustling port, where the recruitment efforts and equipment awaited.
"Mr. Arthur," Ms. Dorothea explained as they walked, "this time, at your specific request, we purchased one hundred sewing machines at an exceptionally low price of 75 dollars each, totaling 7,500 dollars. However, these sewing machines were acquired on a loan with installment payments. I have already settled the 500-dollar down payment for all one hundred machines. You only need to repay 300 dollars each month thereafter." She continued, "I also procured various scissors, dressmaking rulers, and all manner of sewing tools, totaling 300 dollars. As for raw materials, I only acquired a sample batch. Depending on your preferred styles, I can continue to purchase for you, or I can directly introduce you to relevant industry contacts so you may procure them yourself."
"Oh, Ms. Dorothea, I am truly grateful for your indispensable assistance." Dutch walked beside Ms. Dorothea and the other ladies, continuously initiating conversation, his eloquent charm making the atmosphere exceptionally comfortable, eliciting constant giggles from the four women. Arthur and John, among others, trailed closely behind, occasionally interjecting a few awkward words, looking like a flock of bewildered geese, utterly unable to blend into the sophisticated tableau.
There was no helping it; Arthur's mind, though somewhat flexible, was stretched thin. John, however, was purely operating as if half his brain had been gnawed off by wolves, perpetually silent in camp, let alone in the dazzling, intimidating city.
Dutch was profoundly satisfied with these arrangements. Thanks to the ladies' powerful connections, he was now acquiring raw materials at reduced prices, sewing machines at a discount, and even shops at lower rates—all benefits directly stemming from their influence. The original price of these sewing machines was roughly 100 dollars each, so a cut to 75 dollars was already an impressive feat. Subsequent raw material purchases could be further negotiated down, leveraging these same connections. Such accumulated savings, over time, would amount to tens of thousands of dollars, a perfectly normal outcome.
"Oh, Ms. Dorothea, the subsequent raw material purchases will still require your exceptional effort. Compared to letting those black-hearted capitalists pocket these dollars, I think it might be far better to funnel them as surplus funds for women's rights gatherings, don't you agree, dear ladies?" Dutch chuckled, playfully teasing Ms. Dorothea and the other women. His words perfectly painted the image of a shrewd, yet charming, capitalist, yet they caused no offense whatsoever. Instead, they provoked more giggles, further cementing their positive impression of Dutch.
People moved constantly on the street, a blur of motion. Dutch's keen gaze swept over the shadowy figures lurking in the surrounding alleys, then he looked at Arthur, John, and Charles, who had already tensed, their vigilance heightened.
"Oh, shit! These damned things, they're still after us!"
Dutch paused, then, instead of sending Arthur, John, and Charles into the fray, he fixed his gaze directly on the shadowy figures in the alley corners, shouting angrily. "What's wrong, Mr. Arthur?" Ms. Dorothea asked, her face immediately etched with anxiety at Dutch's sudden shift in demeanor. Now, Dutch represented a crucial asset for her family; nothing could be permitted to go wrong.
Dutch looked at the anxious expressions of Ms. Dorothea and the two other ladies, his face contorted with apologetic distress. "I am truly very sorry, Ms. Dorothea. Perhaps we should discuss our matters at another time. It seems we were observed by two gentlemen upon our arrival—subordinates, it appears, of a certain Mr. Bronte. They have now gathered, and I refuse to place you ladies in any danger. Oh, dear ladies, my conversation with you today has brought me immense pleasure, but we may have to temporarily postpone our plans."
Dutch, his face a mask of profound apology, expressed his desire to delay their progress. Upon hearing his words, Ms. Dorothea, Ann, and Miss Alice erupted in a flurry of indignant outrage.
"Shit! Damn Bronte! How dare he be so bold! Oh, Mr. Arthur, please do not worry. Oh, Mr. Hosea, might I impose upon you to approach them? Please convey to Bronte's subordinates that if that underground scumbag dares to lay a single finger on us, his entire operation in Saint Denis can be considered utterly defunct!"
"Oh, of course, my dear lady!" Arthur awkwardly attempted to emulate Dutch's gentlemanly grace, his effort akin to a bear attempting needlepoint. Miss Alice, beside him, chuckled softly, her eyes brimming with amusement at Arthur's powerful physique and charmingly clumsy attempts at civility.
....
(In 1860, sewing machines were already available on installment plans, often with a five-dollar down payment and three-dollar monthly repayments.)