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“Has it occurred to you,” asks Lady Wellesley, “That your place on the Parliament is not, strictly speaking, legal?”
Perscitia bristles. She curls one claw defensively around her writing-tablet while her secretary, Evelyn, edges away. “Of course it is legal, we have made it legal. There are many dragons among Parliament now.”
“Certainly,” says the Lady with uncharacteristic cheer; Perscitia doesn't trust cheerful people. “But the Accords only specify that dragons, in general, will be allowed on Parliament.”
“I am a dragon,” says Perscitia. Lady Wellesley has never struck her as particularly clever, but today she sounds as slow and silly as Temeraire.
“According to the Common Law, only men may serve on Parliament – and Government, you know, is always full of people catching on tiny details like that. I suppose eventually someone will notice that you are not a male dragon and kick up a fuss when they particularly dislike your ideas.”
“No one dislikes my ideas,” Perscitia says immediately, but her mind is racing. “They cannot do that – it would be entirely unfair. Why should it matter if I am female or male? It is a silly law.”
“Oh, it is tradition,” says Lady Wellesley. She glances quickly toward the manor on the hill, the Stratfield-Saye house which is so new its stones gleam in the sun. Inside flickering shadows flutter over the curtains; Arthur should be outside soon. “Women cannot vote in the local elections, either.”
“Many things are traditional which are not good – do you suppose,” says Perscitia, struck by a thought, “That there are other women who would like to vote? Humans, I mean. Perhaps they would like to change that; Parliament can hardly ignore a bill proposing one minor alteration on voting laws if I attract a little attention to the problem first.” Inspired, she adds, “And then when they see how wonderful the women voters are, I will mention the issue of women in Parliament myself, very sneakily – or convince Temeraire to do it. He is very easy to trick...”
“What an excellent idea,” says Lady Wellesley quickly. Perscitia pauses to eye her; the Lady still sounds too cheerful.
But Arthur is coming down from the house now. Perscitia turns to fuss over his new coat, and Lady Wellesley sits back, smiling over her tea.
“Really it comes down to convenience – expediency - “ Lord Henley always looks particularly pale when Perscitia looks at him. Despite the chill afternoon sweat rolls down his brow. “You see most women do not hold property, so they could not vote anyway – there is really not a need – why, even men without property cannot vote, so you see it is fair.”
“Well that is a stupid law,” Perscitia decides. Lord Henley sputters a little. “So what you mean to say is that we should change that law, also, so that people without property can vote.”
Lord Henley blanches. “No, no – that is not at all - “
“That is much better anyway,” Perscitia decides. “And we can include women in the same law, just to be perfectly clear about the whole thing.”
Lord Henley straightens his jacket, very carefully not looking at her teeth. Perscitia has cornered him outside Wellington's estate, as the Lord was leaving; he keeps looking wistfully in the direction of the stable-house where his carriage awaits. “You do not understand,” he says. “Women do not need to vote.”
“Why?”
“Because the law is a matter for men,” he says. “Perhaps you dragons are different, being all warlike creatures; but women should be concerned only with domesticity. I have never met a women with a head for politics.”
“I could introduce you to some clever women,” Perscitia offers. She thinks with admiration of Jane Roland, who is much loved by dragons for her own fierceness. Perscitia, herself, likes Roland for the Admiral's ability to cut straight to the heart of matters. “But anyway, I do not think it means much, to say that women are not involved politically; dragons were never political, before, but that is only because we did not have the opportunity.”
“Women will only vote with their husbands anyway.”
“If you are right then I expect the proportion of votes on either side of an issue will remain roughly the same, so there is no reason not to do it.” Perscitia sits back on her haunches, pleased. “And if you are wrong – which I expect – then the votes will be different, as they should be.”
Lord Henley shakes his head. “It goes against every notion of decency,” he says, “To trouble women with such matters – and as though they can be trusted!”
“Well, you might as well pick an argument,” Perscitia says severely. “You are not being very clear.”
“Then let me blunt,” Lord Henley tells her. “I will not support any attempt to give women the vote; nor any unlanded persons, for that matter. And I daresay you will not win support from the rest of Parliament, either.”
This being said, Henley takes his opportunity to flee. Perscitia is slightly impressed, only because she did not think Henley had the boldness to contradict her. Mostly she is disappointed; she is not a particularly fearsome dragon but it can be very useful to initimidate opponents. Evidently she will have to learn some new rhetorical skills if she wishes to exert any influence on Parliament.
This calls for drastic measures.
“I do not care about Parliament,” Iskierka scoffs. She idly polishes a giant, golden breastplate; she has recently purchased a whole suit for Captain Granby, despite his complaints that it is not even useful. “If they make a decision I do not like, I will bribe them, or threaten them; I can fight for myself,” she says pointedly.
“You cannot bribe them if they take your gold,” Perscitia says. “And if we do not change the laws, there may be fewer dragons on Parliament than before, and fewer protections for us.”
“Well they will certainly not take my gold, or my property; I have fought for it fairly, and anyway I will burn anyone that tries to be a thief. So there.”
“There is no 'so there', if the law turns against you,” Perscitia says sternly. “You should know after all this war and fuss that the only proper way to be safe is to ensure legal protections for all dragons.”
“What good is safety?” Iskierka demands. “Safety is perfectly dull – I have had no one to fight for months, and the admiralty will only talk to me of making more eggs. Granby and I are going to South America soon – there are some wars there, I think, and a great deal of treasure.”
Perscitia shivers. Flying toward war is not a notion she can understand, much less a war of someone else's making. “Well, nevertheless, you must like having a place to store your gold and jewels – and the Government will take it, and all your rights, only because you are not a male, which is perfectly ridiculous. So of course we must address Parliament.”
“I could burn their building,” Iskierka suggests.
“I will address Parliament, that is, with your support,” Perscitia hastens to correct.
Iskierka sniffs. She scuffs a claw against the ground and turns her head casually. “This seems like the sort of great fuss that Temeraire would like; have you spoken to him?”
“No. He has been horribly negligent in his duties these last two weeks.”
“Oh, he is very busy with some silly construction project about a mill and 'preventing a famine', or suchlike; I suppose we may leave a message with Laurence. He lives with Tharkay now, like how Captain Little stays on my estate. But,” Iskierka adds, irritated, “Granby says I am not to speak of that – humans have many stupid notions.”
Perscitia snatches the chance to get away. “I think I will go there next,” she agrees.
William Laurence has always struck Perscitia as a particularly inefficient person. Like many members of Parliament it takes him a very long time to say what he means, though at least he can usually be depended upon to not have too many foolish opinions when his views become clear. Still, privately she thinks Temeraire would have done much better to have snatched up one of those crafty Chinese fellows who get so excited over him. “I am afraid, Perscitia, that I cannot much speak for the status of these regulations – Temeraire is more the politician, not I.”
“Yes, I know that, but if he is gone I must talk to you anyway,” says Perscitia impatiently.
“I suppose it is strangely pleasant,” Tharkay comments, “To find someone that thinks you uninteresting – you needn't smile so much, Will.”
They're standing in Temeraire's Pavilion – a monstrously extravagant, wasteful thing like all the heavy-weights prefer. She supposes it probably suits for dinner-parties, though, and Temeraire does throw a good deal of those. “If you are no good help, then pray pass on my ideas – Evelyn?” Her secretary passes Laurence a small packet. “And if you know anyone else who might be worth approaching, pray tell me. I will be seeing Minnow and Bellusa soon, but I suppose we will need human support, too.”
At that Laurence looks thoughtful. “Actually,” he says, “...I may know someone who can assist you.”
“Oh dear,” says Lady Allendale, clutching Perscitia's neck tighter. “ - And I suppose more are coming?”
“We are fashionably late,” says Perscitia airily. The Lady Allendale relaxes a little as they descend; Perscitia nudges over a space between Recquiscat and a flock of ferals, marveling briefly at the memory of days when she would have cringed from a Regal Copper.
“Now, now, what is this about?” asks Recquiscat. Some of the dragons are becoming exceedingly precious about time now that it equates to gold.
“I would like to talk to you about voting,” Perscitia says, and a few dragons groan.
“We have talked enough of votes,” someone replies. “We have our places on Parliament, is that not enough?”
“Not when they may be stolen,” Perscitia says, which attracts rather more attention.
“I knew the humans would lie to us,” one of the ferals says. “Oh, I knew it, I knew it - “
“Do not be silly, I did not say they have done anything yet. Only that they mean to, which you might have guessed anyway. Specifically, they may send away female dragons.”
“Oh, well,” says Recquiscat. “Not our business, then.”
Perscitia smacks him with her tail. “It should always be your business when the Government does something wrong,” she says sternly. “And anyway, having less female dragons on Parliament means there will probably be fewer dragons at all; it is hard enough for us to get votes, already, so we should not hurt our own chances by chopping our pool of candidates in half.”
A few dragons murmur. “That is fair enough,” someone says. “But how will we stop them?”
“We will team with the human women, and we will all get new rights together,” says Perscitia. “Just as the harnessed dragons teamed with ferals; it will be very like, I think.”
If Lady Allendale minds being compared to a feral dragon, she does not show it. “I've lately begun making some connections in the Suffrage movement,” she says graciously. “On their behalf, I would like to invite you all to a party next week, where we can discuss our concerns further.”
With Temeraire's aide the lady has learned all about draconic weaknesses. “A party!” cries Bellusa, and then everyone is talking excitedly. Even Requiscat agrees to come – especially when Lady Allendale promises there will be little silver buttons given away, as gifts.
Perscitia feels very pleased with herself and throws her energy into the planning-process. Lady Allendale invites her to Wollaton Hall as a guest, and she is a reasonable women - much more sensible than many Society-people, who often scream or run or at least become ridiculously nervous around dragons. Perscitia worries a bit because sometimes Lady Allendale gets very pale during meals, and eats very little, which Perscitia figures cannot be due to the taste of the food; they take their meals together, outside, and Perscitia tends to find her rare-cooked venison quite delicious. Temeraire clearly taught the cooks well.
Lady Allendale is not properly a lady, Perscitia knows; Lady Wellesley has told her all about human titles. She is the Lady-dowager now, and the wife of her son George is the new Lady Allendale. But even though George Laurence and his wife are polite to Perscitia, they do not seem very invested in the suffrage-talk. George says that he will 'trust the matter to them' – a lazy notion, Perscitia thinks – and his wife has fainted four times in her presence and generally stays inside the house. Perhaps she is ill.
Lady Allendale is much more intelligent than Laurence, anyway, which is rather good; not to say that Laurence is bad, as humans go, but he can get annoyingly obsessed with honor and propriety and manners, which is often inconvenient.
At last Lady Allendale pronounces herself well-satisfied with their plans. “Now,” she says, “All that is left is the location. We may have it at Wollaton Hall if you like, or...”
Arthur's face gets slowly more and more red. “A suffrage party,” he says. “On my property.”
“And you are both invited, of course,” says Perscitia happily. Lady Wellesley smiles at her; her husband continues to sputter.
“Why – see here,” says Arthur. “I have listened to quite enough ridiculous ideas from you dragons; lizards in Parliament! And now you suggest we turn over our government to women? What – I suppose we shall have to start making laws about knitting and dresses, too.”
Perscitia bumps him with her nose, hard, and he stumbles. Lady Wellesley has stopped smiling. “That is not kind,” says Perscitia. “And anyway, I have met some of the people in Parliament. Most of them are idiots, so I do not understand why everyone keeps saying that women will not appreciate politics; I have met many sensible women who would do a better job of running things.”
“God save me from the practicality of dragons,” Arthur says.
“I think Jane Roland would be an excellent contribution to Parliament,” ventures Lady Wellesley, carefully.
That makes Arthur pause. Perscitia knows that he relied heavily on the Admiral throughout the war; surely he must see the sense in that, she thinks.
“...I will think on the matter,” he says, begrudging.
Perscitia is not sure what there is to think about; Lady Allendale is an excellent planner, and all the arrangements have already been made. They don't need any help. But sometimes humans need to feel important, so she settles for nodding wisely as Wellington strides away.
“I think that went quite well,” says Lady Wellesley.
And there is a party, in the end. Near the end of July all sorts of guests arrive; human ladies from England and even Ireland and Scotland, and also dragons, of course. Some of the faces are familiar.
“I hear this is your plot.” Jane Roland marches over to Perscitia near the start of the party.
“It is,” says Perscitia. “Although really it was Lady Wellesley's idea; she is more clever than she pretends. Will you help us change the voting laws? I am sure you must want to vote.”
“I already can, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Of course,” says Admiral Roland. “It is not really that woman cannot vote, you see. But legally, to vote someone needs land, and there are a hundred laws in place making it difficult for women to own land, due to a lot of ridiculous reasons that make men feel superior.”
Perscitia listens respectfully – Admiral Roland is a hero of the war and someone all dragons must admire – but these are things she already knows. “Well, that is part of the problem then. You have land, and have done quite well with it. And Bellusa has land,” she adds, which is quite true. “I think that is a silly rule anyway, but there are two options – we can try to make it easier for women to own land, or remove that necessity from voting altogether.”
“Or do both,” Admiral Roland suggests, and Perscitia remembers why she likes her.
Parties are difficult because it is sometimes hard to remember that everyone is not present just to have fun, but to talk about Serious Matters. It is difficult to remain focused, Perscitia thinks, when there is so much excellent food, and tea, and musicians.
Aside from Roland there are many interesting guests. Leading up to the party Lady Allendale and Lady Wellesley invited a variety of other human women, including members of a 'suffragette' association; many of those guests wear very interesting clothes or smoke, making them identifiable by the plumes of smog hovering around their heads. Iskierka likewise managed to rouse up some ferals as well as a lot of unwilling aviators, who all look half-terrified; also there are a few frightened politicians in her company wearing mismatched clothes, who were quite likely plucked from their estates without much warning. Temeraire, being useless and inconstant as always, was forced to make his excuses; but he did write a very nice article in the Times, recommending the cause, and also encouraged many other dragons to attend, so Perscitia is willing to excuse him. At least Tharkay and Laurence are at the party. Laurence always looks stiff and a little pained on any social occasions, but Tharkay appears amused every time she sees them.
Perscitia thinks it very clever of Laurence to have found a rich friend to support him, and is sure to tell him so; she does not know why this makes him blush, or why Tharkay laughs so much.
At any rate, she thinks the party goes very well. Everyone listens quite seriously to what she says – even Iskierka's politicians, who keep trying to interrupt with unimportant questions like “where am I?” and “good god, are you going to let that crazy beast take us again?”
A few of the statesmen are inclined to argue. Perscitia tells them that they are welcome to object, but she thinks it would be more useful if they spoke with some of the other female dragons, too, who were concerned about their rights being removed; some of them have been talking about a sit-in at London.
Oddly, some of the protests diminish after that.
Humans are appallingly slow, and it takes a little more than two years to pass some proper voting laws in England. Perscitia barely notices the victory because England's laws are quite mangled and there is a lot of work to do. But Lady Wellesley invites her for tea the day after the announcement is made, well-pleased.
“I was not sure what to think,” she says, “When Arthur brought you home; but I am very glad you are here, my sweet Perscitia. You have been a great friend, and an excellent ally, too; I dearly hope you will remain with this family as long as I live.”
Perscitia is touched, and turns to awkwardly ruffle her wings. She is not good at emotions. “I hope so too,” she says. “Wellington needs someone to watch him, you know; and also I quite enjoy our lunches.”
It is not nearly enough, but Lady Wellesley smiles. Perscitia thinks it is a very nice thing after all, this having friends.
She wonders if it would be possible to convince Lady Wellesley to run for Parliament.