Suffragette Girl by Margaret Dickinson Read Free Book Online Page A

marry him. He’s a fine young man, but I do agree with her decision, if she’s not in love with him.’
    ‘Love! Bah!’
    ‘Nor have I encouraged her to go to London with Isobel, though I have given her my permission.’
    ‘Your
permission?’ Edgar was incensed. ‘What about
my
permission? Her
father
’s?’
    ‘Don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy, boy.’
    Florrie almost laughed aloud at hearing her father called ‘boy’. But, she supposed, to his mother he would always be just that. He was certainly acting like a schoolboy in a tantrum
now. He stood very still for a moment and his angry gaze rested on Florrie. Then he turned his back on her deliberately and stood looking out of the window. Without turning round again, he said,
‘Go, then. I wash my hands of you. I just hope your brother never disappoints me in this way.’
    For a brief moment, Florrie hesitated, but then her chin rose higher. She turned, kissed her grandmother’s cheek, squeezed the old lady’s hand and left the house without another word
being spoken.

Five
    Aboard the train, the three of them had the carriage to themselves. The two young women sat opposite each other near the window, whilst Timothy, sitting next to Isobel,
stretched his legs and disappeared behind his newspaper.
    ‘I’ve sent word that you’re coming and a room will be ready for you.’ Isobel spoke of the Richards’ town house in London. ‘Lady Leonora lives just around the
corner so it’s very handy.’ Isobel’s blue eyes sparkled with intrigue.
    Florrie leaned forward, asking softly, ‘What is she like?’
    Isobel put her head on one side as she considered the question. ‘Rather like me, I suppose. Not beautiful and rather manly.’
    ‘Oh, Iso, you’re not manly,’ Florrie said swiftly.
    Isobel laughed merrily. ‘Kind of you to say so, Florrie, but I have been described as “handsome” and that’s usually a word applied to a man, don’t you
think?’
    Florrie shook her head. ‘Not always. People talk about a handsome woman quite often.’
    Isobel nodded her head towards her fiance, engrossed in his paper. ‘Tim is very like her, but, of course, on him the family resemblance is perfect.’ She chuckled, quite secure in her
own view of herself and not a bit envious of the lovely girl sitting before her. No wonder poor Gervase was besotted with Florrie. ‘Are you coming out this year?’
    ‘It’s what Mother wants – and Father too, I suppose – but it’s not the sort of thing that I’m interested in.’ Changing the subject from debutantes,
Florrie said, ‘I’m more interested in what the suffragettes are doing.’
    Isobel was thoughtful for a moment. ‘How much do you know about the background to the movement?’
    ‘I’ve read about it in Gran’s newspapers. I don’t think she ever guessed that I knew exactly where Bowler put them in the barn to be burned after she’d thrown them
out. I used to sit in the hayloft and devour every word. I know that Millicent Fawcett formed the National Union of Women’s Suffrage in the 1890s, but she only believed in peaceful protest
and, whilst she did get a few Members of Parliament to support them, most MPs believed that women wouldn’t understand the workings of Parliament sufficiently well to be able to
vote.’
    ‘That’s right.’ Isobel’s tone became scathing at the insult. ‘And Parliament stubbornly refused to debate the subject of women’s emancipation.’
    ‘So,’ Florrie went on, anxious to prove to Isobel that she knew exactly what she was getting herself into, ‘Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst, who wasn’t prepared to wait years and
years, formed the Women’s Social and Political Union in 1903. Her followers were – and are – prepared to resort to violence to get themselves noticed to further the Cause.’
Now she frowned. ‘But couldn’t violence have the opposite effect? I mean, chaining themselves to railings and smashing windows: doesn’t that tarnish their