Anthony gave her another encouraging nod.
“Well.” She tilted her chin up. The Dowager had asked a direct question, and it seemed that, whatever she did, she did wrong. “Of course, you’re a powerful woman, madam. But Mrs. Pankhurst’s point is the average woman in the kingdom has no say in the matters discussed in Parliament.”
“The average woman, or man, doesn’t need to have a say because they don’t understand what governing an empire means,” the Dowager said. “Not all men can vote, as it should be. I don’t need to march in the streets, shouting silly slogans to get things done, and certainly, I don’t want a bunch of uneducated women to give me their unwanted opinions on matters they don’t understand. I hope you won’t discuss this further.”
But Isabella had barely said anything!
“Oh no,” Lord Patrick said. “Please do go on. This is most entertaining.”
Father was flustered. “Then perhaps we should take care of these uneducated women and make sure they receive the education they need to be active members of the country. Your Grace.”
“And wasting money and resources to turn a seamstress into an expert in politics?” the Dowager asked. “For what possible reason? We don’t need everyone’s opinion to govern the country. This isn’t a democracy. Do you want to vote, Helen?”
Helen took a sip of water before answering. “Heavens, no. Why would I?”
The Dowager raised her brow at Isabella. “See?”
“That’s fair,” she said. “If Helen doesn’t want to vote, it’s all right, as long as it’s her choice. It’s also fair that a woman who wishes to vote has the right to do it.”Drat. She’d just admitted to support women’s suffrage.
Father ignored Mother’s glances. “Exactly.”
“And I believe—” Isabella continued.
Mother angled towards her. “Enough, darling.” She turned towards Father. “Please.”
The Dowager shot Isabella a glacial stare. “A piece of advice, Isabella. Power works well only when it’s exclusive. When everyone, even the undeserving ones, has the same power, chaos ensues, and chaos in a kingdom means riots, and riots mean dead people. Those who hold the power must protect people.”
Isabella bowed her head. She’d talked too much.
Anthony cleared his throat. “I agree with Lady Isabella and Montrose.”
The Dowager didn’t show any mercy for her grandson. “Do you now?”
He put down his fork even though he’d barely touched his duckà l’orange. “I met Mrs. Pankhurst, and she’s a clever, well-educated woman who has strong arguments in favour of women’s suffrage. I promised her to support her petition in Parliament.”
Isabella’s heart leapt as she wished she could hug him, but one look from the Dowager crushed all her enthusiasm. Only the Dowager had the uncanny power of making her feel small and wrong with one glance.
Father beamed, but Mother paled, and Helen seemed to have drunk vinegar. The Dowager would likely give her grandson a piece of her mind in private.
Lord Patrick broke the frosty silence by raising his glass in a toast. “Ladies and gentlemen, I propose a toast to ghosts and extra income, both things I’m absolutely interested in.”
Anthony raised his glass too, smiling at her. “And to well-educated women.”
* * *
For the restof the dinner, Isabella kept quiet and stiff. She couldn’t enjoy the food, despite the fact the duck was delicious. The fruit sorbet was smooth and sweet, but she could have eaten old parchment for all the pleasure it gave her. She didn’t follow the conversation either, focused on not saying or doing anything wrong. If she were the wife of the duke, she would go mad under the constant pressure to be perfect.
It was with relief she rose from her chair once the dinner was over.
In the drawing room, Anthony sat next to Helen on the silk sofa, a little detached from the rest of the group, to chat with her in private.
Isabella desperately needed something to do before she got trapped in a conversation with the Dowager. But what could she do? After the disastrous dinner, she didn’t feel confident enough to play the piano. She was too agitated for that.
If Helen married Anthony, Isabella feared those dinners and holidays shared with the duke and his grandmother would be a nightmare.
“Lady Isabella.” Patrick gestured at a small table on the other side of the room. “Care to join me for a chess game?”
“Oh gosh, yes. I mean, I’d be delighted.”
