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“ Well, then I will go by myself, but I will go.” Lizzy shook herself free from her coat as she and Jane returned home from work.

It had been a trying day at the store. There’d been no pleasing Mr Goldsman because he was not pleasing The Chief and so the cumulative displeasure landed with a thud on Jane and herself.

Why were men in charge of everything? Even with Mr Selfridge’s progressive ideas, women rose only so far in the organization and were many times treated with a kind of condescension bordering on contempt.

Since she could do nothing about how things were structured at work, she would do something about it in her private life.

There was to be a suffragette meeting in Hyde Park about the upcoming census, and Elizabeth was determined to get involved.

“ Don’t go. You might be arrested or even beaten.” Jane’s worried look shown clearly in the bedroom mirror, and Lizzy had to smile.

“ It’s just a meeting. We aren’t marching or boycotting or burning down Parliament.”

Jane shook her head. “Please don’t talk like that. You know how it upsets me.”

Elizabeth turned around and tried to smile reassuringly.

“It’s just a meeting. Nothing more. The worst they’re planning is to do something about the census.

How violent can that get? You’re such a worrier.

I’ll be all right. Come along. Let’s go for tea.

Mrs Clarke has conjured up something that smells delicious. ”

Jane didn’t look convinced but smoothed the few strands of hair that escaped from her low pompadour and followed Lizzy out the door.

***

Heart pounding, Elizabeth stepped off the train at Hyde Park.

It suddenly occurred to her that her self-congratulations on being the sister who took the lead in all things might not have been warranted.

As she walked towards The Reformers Tree with an ever-increasing crowd of women, she heartily wished she hadn’t been so flippant with Jane and persuaded her to come along.

It was much easier to be courageous with Jane by her side than it was heading into the unknown alone.

What if the police broke up their meeting with billy clubs?

What if she was arrested merely for being here?

Recalling her own words, she tried reassuring herself that she was just here to listen and observe.

If a torch was handed to her as the crowd veered in the direction of Parliament, she would excuse herself.

Ha, she made a joke. She didn’t really feel any better for it.

Many more women were gathered than she expected.

Some were well dressed and obviously well-heeled, but many who hung about in groups near the back of the burgeoning crowd were working women, women who toiled in mills and factories.

Their boisterous conversations talked freely about their toil, their children, and the men some of them supported.

Lizzy determined that she was somewhere between these two groups, better educated than a mill worker, but not at leisure like those who were born to fortunes.

A flushed and intense young woman, who passed among them in the crowd, thrust a leaflet into Lizzy’s hand while entreating, “Boycott the census. If we are not human enough to vote, we are not human enough to be counted.” Lizzy’s gaze met the young woman’s as she took the leaflet.

A cheer suddenly went up and Lizzy saw a woman standing on a table who could have been anyone's favourite aunt.

She had curly hair fastened in a tight bun beneath a bonnet surrounding her soft features.

Her coat was long and black in a heavy thick material that looked like something a soldier would wear on the frontline in cold weather.

Didn't matter what she looked like, aunt or soldier: the crowd soon stilled at her words, and Lizzy did too.

The woman was none other than Emmeline Pankhurst.

All conversation ceased as Mrs Pankhurst’s words rang out, “ Women had always fought for men, and for their children. Now we are ready to fight for our own human rights. We are willing to break laws that we might force men to give us the right to make laws.”

A roar erupted from the crowd and Lizzy felt herself swept along with its euphoria.

She didn’t know what she expected when she decided to attend this meeting, but she could feel something awaken in her, more than inspiration…

a vision perhaps? A vision for the future, not only for herself, but for all women who came after them.

The sensation was like jolt of electricity, and it was all she could do to concentrate on what was being said.

No women would participate in the census. If the government thought that they didn’t count, they wouldn’t be counted. A chant bubbled up from the crowd until all were shouting, some jabbing their fists towards the sky. Lizzy never felt more alive.

“No vote—no census. No vote—no census.” Someone clasped her hand. “Mary’s my name,” she said.

Grinning, Lizzy spun around to face her. “Lizzy.”

“First time at a meeting?”

Lizzy nodded, and another woman grasped her other hand. “Constance,” said the woman. “That’s me.”

“Lizzy.” Someone began singing close by.

“Shout, shout, up with your song, Cry with the wind for the dawn is breaking. March, march, swing you along. Wide blows our banner and hope is waking…” Lizzy didn’t know the words, but Mary and Constance did.

She’d learn them. She would learn them for the next meeting and the one after that.

She had found the place where she belonged.

***

Lizzy’s teacup rattled in her saucer. She shook her head rapidly as if to stir herself into wakefulness. They were on their morning tea break in the employees’ canteen at Selfridges, and Lizzy was grateful for every drop of tea.

“ I haven’t had a chance to ask you about the meeting last night. You came home very late.”

“ Oh, Jane, it was magnificent. You should have come. I do believe I found my calling last night.”

Jane blinked at her. “I thought working at Selfridges was your calling. I do believe you are becoming as fickle as Kitty or Lydia.”

Jane was never one to criticize. She was teasing, but her words did sting a bit.

“ I do love working at Selfridges. I do. But the suffrage movement is more than employment. It is a mission. Something I can leave behind for all who come after me.” As soon as she said it, Lizzy wished she hadn’t. “That sounded pompous, didn’t it?”

Jane reached across the small table and took Lizzy’s hand. “No, it did not. I am proud of you, Lizzy.”

Before Lizzy could react, a masculine presence made itself known. “Well, Miss Bennet. So wonderful to see you. May I?” Before she could respond, Mr Wickham pulled up a chair and joined them. “And who is your lovely friend?”

Lizzy rolled her gaze. “My lovely friend is my lovely sister. Jane, meet Mr George Wickham, of the Palm Court Restaurant.”

“ So very pleased to meet you.” George reached down and kissed Jane’s hand before she could resist. The startled look on her face nearly caused a case of the giggles in Lizzy, but she refrained.

He turned and took Lizzy’s hand. “I have come to ask you to accompany me to a little soiree this Sunday afternoon.” Lizzy opened her mouth to speak, but George interrupted.

“Oh, you may come too, Miss Jane. You can be our chaperone.” George turned his attention back to Lizzy and his eyes narrowed into a “come hither” look. He then began to laugh.

“ Honestly, Mr Wickham…” Lizzy began.

“ Please, call me George.”

“ George, then. Jane and I will talk it over and let you know tomorrow.”

“ Splendid. Oh, do say yes. It will be such fun. Dancing and all.” With that, he rose quickly from his seat and disappeared.

“ So, that is George Wickham.” Jane stared open-mouthed at the retreating figure.

“ Yes, indeed.” Lizzy shook her head. “So, will you come with us? I think it will be such a lark.”

Jane shook her head but smiled. “Oh, all right. Tell him I will come. It might be a lark at that.”