Free Suffragette Girl by Margaret Dickinson Page B

secret.
    ‘Oh, darling,’ for a brief moment Clara’s face was animated. ‘Did she take you to balls and soirees?’ She clasped her hands together in happy expectation that
perhaps her wayward daughter’s visit to London had been more fruitful than she’d dared to hope. ‘Did she introduce you into Society? Would she arrange for you to be presented at
court, d’you think? I’m sure your father would forgive you if. . .’ Her voice faded away as she caught Augusta’s amused expression and her daughter’s anxious one.
    ‘Mother—’ Florrie bit her lip. ‘Lady Leonora is a stalwart of the WSPU.’
    ‘The – the what?’
    ‘The Women’s Social and Political Union. It’s the organization Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst founded.’
    Clara’s face fell and she shuddered. ‘The suffragettes. Oh dear! I did so hope you might have forgotten all about that. Once you got to London and went to balls and such, I thought.
. .’ Her voice trailed away in disappointment. She sighed heavily and then asked, ‘So – what have you been doing?’
    For the next hour, Florrie recounted some of the activities in which she’d been involved. She described the rousing rallies, the meetings where all classes of women met together as if they
were of equal rank. She spoke of the MPs and other gentlemen of standing who were sympathetic to their cause, but she omitted – in front of her mother – to mention the more militant
acts in which she’d recently taken part. She’d save that for later when she was alone with Augusta.
    ‘Is James coming home for my birthday?’
    The two older women exchanged a glance. Clara’s eyes filled with tears, but Augusta’s mouth pursed with indignation. ‘Your father won’t allow him to come home during term
time and miss his schooling. And for once, I could not sway him.’
    Despite the acute disappointment that her beloved brother would not be home for her birthday, Florrie couldn’t help but be amused at her grandmother’s reaction. She was sure that
Augusta’s annoyance was caused as much by the fact that she’d lost a battle with her son as by the fact that her grandson would be missing from the celebrations.
    ‘Never mind,’ Florrie said gaily. ‘We’ll just have to have another party during his holidays. I’ll be sure to come home again then.’ In her mother’s
hearing she forbore to add the words, ‘As long as I’m not in prison.’
    On the evening of Florrie’s birthday, Augusta insisted that a special dinner should be held in her honour. ‘It’s her nineteenth birthday, Edgar, and should be
marked with a special occasion. She is no longer a child now, but a young woman.’
    ‘She’s not of age yet,’ he growled. ‘Though she seems to ignore the fact. And you encourage her.’
    ‘Edgar, my dear boy. I was married and carrying you by my nineteenth birthday—’
    Her son held up his hand and said loftily, ‘I do not wish to be reminded of the fact, Mama.’
    Augusta laughed. ‘Still ashamed of me, are you? Well, well. We can’t change the past, Edgar dear. But we can change the future. And that’s just what your lovely daughter is
trying to do. She’s trying to make the world a better – a fairer – place for women. You should be proud of her, not condemning her and trying to marry her off to the nearest
available eligible bachelor. A dear boy though Gervase is, I wouldn’t want to see her married to him if she doesn’t love him.’
    At this point, Edgar felt himself to be losing this particular battle. He glared at her for a moment, turned on his heel and disappeared into his study, slamming the door behind him.
    Augusta chuckled, dusted her hands together and murmured, ‘That’s one to me, I do believe.’

Nine
    A few local people, who were considered suitable, were invited to dine with the Maltbys for Florrie’s birthday, most notably the Richards and the Hon. Timothy, who was
staying at Bixley Manor for a Friday-to-Monday shooting party that