Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘You…!’

But before I could specify my opinion of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, a roar of applause went up from the crowd. Either Professor Anstruther had just reached a very convincing argument in his theory, or his place had been taken by a stand-up comedian from the nearest music hall.

I took a look and sighed with resignation. No, it was still Anstruther, propounding his opinions. By now he had reached a detailed analysis of the differing head circumferences of females and males, and was comparing female human skulls to those of various apes.

‘The most similarities I have observed are to be found between women and chimpanzees,’ he was just saying, to another round of applause from the crowd. ‘Their heads show about the same growth pattern.’[44]

‘Interesting theory, don't you think?’ Mr Ambrose commented, in a voice so low only I could hear. ‘Especially considering their comparable intellectual capabilities.’

I balled my little hands into fists. They felt so insignificant. If only they were larger and stronger. If only I were. Strong enough to withstand this.

‘You are despicable,’ I informed Mr Ambrose. ‘I really ought to teach you a lesson!’

‘Really?’ He cocked his head, looking at me with calculating cold eyes. ‘I am quite sure that an assault on your employer would be in contradiction of our agreement and that I would be perfectly within my rights to release you from my service. But if you think it is worth it…’ His cold gaze wandered to my clenched fists. ‘Do not let me stop you.’

Taking a deep breath, I tried to relax my fingers.

You can do this, I told myself. You can do this!

My fingers didn’t relax. But I didn’t punch him either.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ I informed him. ‘And it is not working.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes. You’re trying to get me to give you a reason to sack me.’

‘I see.’

‘But I will not. You’re trying to get rid of me because you don't think I can do my job properly, but I will prove you wrong!’

‘So that is my sinister motivation? How deplorably easy I am to see through.’

Was that sarcasm in his voice? No, it couldn’t be. After all, sarcasm was a form of humour.

I didn’t reply to his words, choosing instead to lapse into silence. So did he. I simply stood there and endured, while Mr Ambrose waited for me to crack.

I did not.

Maybe he was surprised by my endurance as I listened to Professor Anstruther droning on and on about women and chimpanzees. But there was something I knew that he didn’t. I had something to look forward to. Maybe, just maybe, this event wouldn’t go quite as Mr Ambrose had anticipated.

It was during a particularly long-winded sub-speech on chimpanzee mating practices that what I had waited for finally came. A shout went up from the back of the crowd, and a waving sign appeared over the heads of the assembled people.

The sign read:

VOTES FOR WOMEN NOW!

‘Forward, girls!’ A familiar voice rose up, drowning out Anstruther without much difficulty. ‘For the oppressed women of Britain!’

*~*~**~*~*

People made way for Patsy & Co extremely quickly. That might have been partly because of the menacing way in which Patsy wielded her parasol, but her mere presence would have parted the masses as Moses had parted the red sea. Only that the red sea had probably not been that afraid of Moses.

‘Down with chauvinist oppression! Votes for women now! Votes for women now!’

I was so proud of my friends, as I watched them marching through the crowd, chorusing their beliefs for all the world to hear! Unthinkingly, my feet moved forward to join them - but then I remembered: I was in men’s clothes!

I wasn’t Miss Lilly Linton, dedicated suffragist, I was Mr Victor Linton, private secretary to Mr Rikkard Ambrose. If only I had known more swear words! I would have dearly liked to curse my trousers and the man who had forced me to put them on with every existing expletive in the world!