Chapter Eighteen #3
‘That’s the larger part. Oh, and after the event, keep a record of who was there, what food you served and what you wore, so that you don’t repeat yourself.
And keep a separate log of the guests, noting beside each any observations you make.
Lady A doesn’t eat fish. Lord B gets angry when Ireland is mentioned.
Mrs C and Mrs D are mortal enemies. That sort of thing. ’
‘You make it sound like a job – a career,’ Nina said, frowning.
‘Isn’t it?’ said Lepida. ‘Lady Wigston.’
Nina sighed. ‘I suppose that’s how I must think of it.’
‘But you’ll enjoy it, once you get over your first nerves! I can picture you, reigning over the drawing-rooms. With your intelligence and your education, and your pleasant manners, you were made for it.’
‘Thank you for the character,’ Nina laughed. ‘I’m sure to get the job now.’
They chatted about other things for a while, and then Lepida rose to leave. ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘your friend Lady Clementine is in Town, I believe?’
‘I knew she was – she came up the day before me – but I don’t know what she’s doing.’
‘I bumped into an acquaintance of mine yesterday, Mary Martin. She’s recently become a member of the WSPU, and she mentioned Lady Clementine, whom she admires, thinking that I’m a friend of hers.
She let slip that something is going to happen at the Houses of Parliament tomorrow.
Obviously it’s meant to be a secret, and she shut down as soon as she realised I didn’t know.
But I thought I would warn you, in case your friend tries to involve you. ’
‘There’s a rally in Hyde Park,’ Nina said. ‘I know about that – it’s not a secret.’
‘It could hardly be, or no-one would come to it,’ Lepida said. ‘But this is something else. Mary definitely mentioned Parliament.’
‘Well, Clemmie hasn’t spoken to me about it.’
‘If she does, you had better keep your distance, now that your husband is in the government. That’s all.’
‘Thank you for the warning,’ Nina said. She felt sure there was some mistake somewhere. This Mary Martin sounded like an unreliable source.
The next day, the 23rd of October, was the opening of Parliament after the summer recess, and the rally in Hyde Park, with the usual banners, favours and speeches, was exactly the kind of activity the suffragists were expected to mount.
The Daily Mail estimated that ten thousand were there and there were also rallies in Finsbury Park and Battersea Park.
Nina thought afterwards that it had been well designed to draw attention away – for Lepida had been right.
Late in the afternoon, as the rallies were beginning to disperse peacefully, the real action began in Palace Yard, outside the Houses of Parliament.
As Nina heard it later, the leaders of the WSPU gathered in twos and threes in the Yard, drawing the attention of the police, to whom they were well known, while some others, whose faces were not, gained entry to the lobby, each saying she was there to meet her MP by appointment.
Once they were inside, at a secret signal one jumped onto a chair to make a speech.
She only got as far as ‘Friends and comrades’, before she was seized by a constable and pulled down.
Two others used the distraction to climb onto the windowsill behind the statue of Lord Iddesleigh and unfurl a suffrage flag, shouting, ‘We are slaves! Votes for women!’ As the police ran to them, another stood on a bench to shout, ‘Down with tyrants! We will have votes!’ As soon as she was stopped, another started up.
Some climbed up on statues; some tried to get further into the House.
The lobby was full of other people, strangers and Members talking to their friends, and the women dodged about between them, shouting and causing chaos.
Only when reinforcements were called in from the Yard outside was it possible to catch the women, and they did not go quietly, struggling and protesting, tearing at the policemen’s tunics and trying to scratch their faces.
One woman could only be subdued by the concerted efforts of three constables.
Lord Wigston came home late and in a state of outrage.
He had been in the House and had heard the disturbance from a distance; like many of his fellow peers, he had witnessed some of it from the windows, and seen the aftermath in the lobby – a litter of hats, scarves, torn fragments of clothing, ripped-off buttons, overturned chairs, a trampled flag, even a shoe.
‘It was horrible!’ he cried. ‘An absolute disgrace! Women behaving like wild animals, shrieking and shouting and fighting, right in the very cradle of democracy! Is nothing sacred? How can they think that’s going to help their cause?
If that’s what getting the vote’ll do, we’ll have to make sure they never get it. ’
Nina saw that he was upset and forgave him the lapse in logic, but pointed out, ‘If they had the vote they wouldn’t have to behave like that.’
He gave her an angry look. ‘No, no, you can’t explain it like that.
There’s nothing excuses a lady making such a show of herself!
These are bad people to begin with. Otherwise they could never bring themselves to behave so.
I tell you, I was half minded to think the cause had some justice to it, but now! They’re bad hats, the lot of them.’
He waved the newspaper, the Evening News, that he had picked up at the corner and hadn’t yet opened. ‘Look at this! Disgusting!’ He unfolded it to show her photographs of women struggling with policemen. ‘I hope the home secretary comes down hard on ’em.’
Nina took it, because he thrust it at her, and her eye fell on a photograph that struck her as horribly poignant.
A large and burly policeman had lifted one of the protesters off her feet, and was evidently carrying her out by latching one arm round her waist. Her hat was crooked and her hair was coming down and she seemed so small and slight against his great strength.
Her little feet and ankles, dangling helplessly well above the ground, looked somehow pathetic. Then Nina saw her face.
‘Oh, no,’ she breathed.
It was Lady Clemmie.
Ten women were arrested and taken to Cannon Row police station, where they were released on bail of ten pounds to appear the next day at Rochester Row.
The remnants of the rallies had gathered again along the Embankment, an enormous crowd, and the ten addressed them in rousing speeches, watched suspiciously by the police sent to keep the crowd in order.
‘I have to go and support her,’ Nina said, the next day at breakfast.
‘You have to do no such thing,’ her husband said, seeming shocked.
‘But it’s Lady Clemmie. You know how you’ve always admired her.’
‘Up till now,’ he said reluctantly.
‘You said she was the sort of lady I ought to model myself on.’
‘I don’t recollect saying any such thing.’
‘But it must be very frightening for her, given her background. I’m sure she’ll never have seen the inside of a court room before. And she hasn’t any relatives to stand by her.’
‘She should have thought of that before she went on the rampage. I can’t have you involved in this, Nina. I’ve my reputation to think of. I’m in the government now.’
At that moment Decius was announced, and came in with the morning paper.
He declined to eat or drink, but sat down at the table and said, ‘The list of those arrested last night is here. Some of the WSPU bigwigs – Mrs Cobden Sanderson and Mrs Pethick Lawrence. And the youngest Pankhurst girl, Adela. That will get them some good publicity.’
‘Good?’ Wigston objected. ‘There’s nothing good about it.’
‘I meant in terms of size and impact. And Lady Clementine Leacock – I suppose you knew?’
‘We saw her picture in the paper last night,’ Nina said. ‘I want to go to the hearing, to support her.’
Decius examined her expression and tone and looked at Wigston. ‘It would be a kind thing. She won’t have anyone else. I could go,’ he said.
Wigston was wavering. He had admired, almost revered Lady Clemmie. He didn’t like to think of her suffering. Perhaps this business was an aberration. Perhaps the fright of being arrested would put her back on track and she would go home and behave herself from now on.
‘Please, Joseph,’ Nina said. ‘She made a mistake, but she shouldn’t be all alone.’
‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘But you stay with Lady Wigston,’ he added to Decius. ‘Don’t leave her side for a moment. And keep away from any press men you see. And,’ to Nina, ‘wear a hat with a veil.’
There was a huge crowd outside the police court.
Nina spotted Sylvia Pankhurst, presumably there to support her sister, handing out leaflets.
Decius got them into the public gallery, and Nina pressed close to him, feeling nervous and out of her place in the strange surroundings, half wishing she hadn’t come.
The gallery was crowded and she disliked being confined with all these strangers, especially given there was only one way out, down a narrow wooden staircase.
She was glad that, coming in last, they were on the front-row benches next to the exit.
The low buzz of conversation sank as the defendants filed into the dock, looking neat and tidy today, like ordinary respectable women you wouldn’t notice if you passed them on the street.
The magistrate, Horace Smith, came in, and proceedings began.
It did not take long. The ten women were charged with insulting and threatening behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace, and a murmur went round the gallery – it seemed the supporters were surprised by the charge.
It seemed rather mild to Nina. The police gave their evidence, and a lawyer stood up to say the defendants waived their right to cross-examine.
Then they were asked if they wished to speak. Mrs Cobden Sanderson said she was guilty as charged, ‘But I do not recognise the authority of this court, in the absence of the right to vote.’