Guess whose was first?
Yeah. You guessed right.
If my hate had been fire, Mr Ambrose would have been a smouldering pile of ashes by now. Women are weak? So that was what he thought of me? That was why he was trying to get rid of me? After all I had done, all the effort I had put into convincing him that I was loyal, trustworthy and reliable, he still saw me as a weakling, a shadow of the man he could have working for him.
The crowd was getting more excited now. Mr Ambrose raised his voice, and his fist along with it, hard as stone.
‘Women have shown us for hundreds of years that they are weaker than men, that they require protection - protection which we have given them, because they are weak and we are strong! This world is about the survival of the strong. How can we grant political rights, the rights to govern our very own nation, to the weak when our enemies would leap at the chance to exploit any weakness?’
With a swift, cutting gesture, he brought down his fist diagonally, cutting off the mere notion of such foolishness. Even through my rage I had to admit - he was good. Infuriating and chauvinistic and exactly what I despised in every other possible way - but he was good at what he did.
‘I tell you, we cannot afford it! And I tell you that in all my travels around all the colonies of the great British Empire and beyond, I have never encountered a woman who would deserve to be called strong, who would deserve to be called my equal!’
It was then that Patsy decided she had had enough. She stepped forward, holding up her 'VOTES FOR WOMEN NOW!' sign like a shield.
‘Really?’ she called to him. ‘Maybe you should look over here!’
No! Here! I growled in my mind. If any girl was going to show this arrogant son of a bachelor what females were capable of, it was going to be me!
Mr Ambrose’s cold gaze met Patsy’s - and she took another step back.
‘How much money do you earn, miss?’ he asked.
Patsy blushed.
‘Well… I don't, not as such…’
‘How many battles have you fought in?’
‘Battles? But I’m a girl, I…’
She stopped, biting her lip in fury. Around her, snickers rose up from the crowd.
‘Ah.’ Mr Ambrose nodded. ‘So you don’t want to have to fight in wars. You just want to vote, do you? Well, since you want to vote, I’m sure you’re up-to-date on politics.’
‘I… well…’
‘Tell me, I’m curious: what is your opinion on our current political situation in regard to the French Empire?’
‘I… I don't know.’
‘Strange, for someone as interested in politics as you. Then tell me, what is our gross national income?’
‘I don’t know that either! I’m not-’
‘What about all the cabinet ministers and their political affiliations and allies in the House of Commons?’
Patsy’s hand were balled into tight fists around her sign. ‘I-don’t-know!’
With a sigh, Mr Ambrose turned from her and nodded, as if she were not even worth another look.
‘I rest my case. Think on what I have said, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, for I am not a man to repeat myself. Success comes from power, and power comes from man. It always has. It always will.’
With a curt bow, he stepped back. The crowd was muttering and nodding. His speech was unlike any other they had heard so far, I could see that just from watching them. It also was a heck of a lot more effective.
As he walked back to me, an expression of cold superiority on his face, I glared at Mr Ambrose in pure rage. How could I ever have believed I could not hate this man? Well, now he had revealed himself for what he really was. I would not make the mistake of trusting him again.
‘Wonderful! Simply wonderful!’