‘Sir Theodore Angier, some local shipping magnate,’ Cecil replied.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I warmly welcome you to this meeting of the National League for Opposing Women’s Suffrage.’
The cheers and applause from around the room squashed the few dissenting voices.
‘Tonight, you will hear an auspicious range of voices—fervent and passionate in their opposition to women’s suffrage. But now is not the time to merely listen passively; now is the time to act. A man, if he is a man at all, must start with all his prejudices in favour of the sex we love. But he must study his reason as well. If we adopt that course, there will be few supporters for the female vote. To give women the vote would be to make a revolution, damaging to the State, to the Empire and the family.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Grace shouted. ‘The Empire will surely collapse!’
Sir Theodore Angier smiled in her direction. ‘Thank you, Madam. And I bid a warm welcome to our opponents. We are pleased to live in a society where mature, adult debate can occur.’ He paused amid indecipherable murmurings. ‘Our first speaker tonight is Mrs Francis Wild. Please would you join me in welcoming her to the stage.’
A polite round of applause rose from the crowd and onto the stage glided an elegant middle-aged lady in a floor-length blue dress.
Grace watched her intently, not even wanting to blink. So, this was she, Mrs Francis Wild. She was beautiful, for her age, yet there was something about her face that appeared hard and cold.
Mrs Wild reached the centre and raised her hand to subdue the clapping. ‘Things,’ she began, once she had achieved silence, ‘are at a critical time. Our opponents are demonstrating in the streets and hoping to accomplish by smashing windows what they cannot do by argument. This idea of any number from three to eight million women voters would be a vast change, altering at a blow the system on which the civilized world has acted. It can bring no corresponding advantage to women; it can bring only danger and disadvantage.’
‘Rubbish!’ Grace called. ‘Coward!’
Hers was not the only opposing voice. Mrs Wild, however, persisted without pause. ‘If,’ she continued, ‘any measure for women’s suffrage passes into law, then the first step will be taken in the decline of England, and the first suffering of ideals, in the true and fruitful powers of her life, will be the women of England…’
A volley of cheers and applause rang around the Banqueting Room.
Grace’s attention was snapped from Mrs Wild’s absurd rantings by a set of fat fingers digging sharply into her upper arm. She turned to see the policeman. ‘Anymore interruptions and you’re out on your ear. Do you understand, love?’
‘Perfectly,’ Grace said, shaking off his grip.
Cecil rolled his eyes at her then whispered, ‘Behave, Grace, or you’ll get us thrown out.’
‘Women—since the days of Adam and Eve—have had special duties to perform as wife and mother; duties that no man could ever assume, however much women may encroach upon the special tasks and duties of men.’
‘What about working women?’ a lady shouted from the other side of the room. ‘Our derisory pay is set by the men!’
Mrs Wild shook her head impatiently, as if the person asking the question were an imbecile. ‘Economic conditions govern wages, my dear,’ she enunciated. ‘Do you really think a group of men sit in a room deciding the pay of laundresses, then house keepers, then domestic maids? It’s absurd. All the improvements that have been made in the treatment of women and in their education have been made by men, without women having the vote. Women have gained today what the suffragists said sixty years ago could not be gained without the vote. Ladies and gentlemen, it really comes down to this: England and our Empire governed by women cannot hold her own against states governed by men, and must surely decay. If the Empire is not to decay, we must insist upon the sex distinction in the parliamentary sphere, upon the absolute necessity that the supreme executive power shall rest upon the physical force and political experience of men.’
‘You’ve not met my wife, then,’ one man jested, receiving a reply of laughter, predominantly from the men in the room.
Grace looked at the policeman, who was chuckling at the heckler’s apparent wit. She stood up. ‘What utter nonsense! There are few—if indeed any—jobs that a woman can’t do equally as well as a man. I’m sure if women were running the country, our beloved Empire might be viewed much more favourably by the rest of the world.’
Two women stood up and clapped.
‘Yes!’ one of them called.
‘And less war!’ the other added.
‘Right, that’s enough,’ the policeman said, reaching in and grabbing Grace by the arm. ‘Time to go back to your fantasy land. Out.’
‘Ouch, you’re hurting me,’ Grace protested, trying to prise off his fingers, as he dragged her towards the door.
‘Let go of her!’ Cecil shouted. ‘Everyone—you’re witness to this—officer 503 is manhandling my friend and hurting her.’
The pressure on Grace’s arm continued, as she was dragged unceremoniously towards the door.
‘Out!’ the policeman repeated. ‘If I see you at any more of these meetings, I’ll have you arrested.
Grace smiled sweetly and curtseyed, before taking Cecil by the arm and limping to the pavement.
‘That went well,’ Cecil commented.
‘God, I hate those two people,’ Grace seethed, rubbing the sore underside of her arm.
‘Which two?’
‘Who do you think? Mr and Mrs Wild!’
Cecil positioned himself in front of Grace and met her fiery stare. ‘What is it about them that affects you so much? Of all the people in this country, in this county, in this town, who are set against the cause, why do you get so bothered by them? What are you hiding, Grace?’
Grace could sense his desire to understand,
