Am I a Chimpanzee?

‘What is this?'

My voice didn't sound like my own. It sounded as if it were coming from very, very far away.

Mr Ambrose sprang out of the coach and looked up at me. ‘What do you think it is? It is me expressing my cherished political opinions for the good of Britain and the Empire.'

Hisvoice sounded exactly like his own. In fact, it sounded more like his own than it had done during the entirety of the last two days. Gone was the friendliness. Gone was the interest. Gone was the politeness. Gone was all the pretence.

And I suddenly understood what this was all about. His words rang in my head like a great brass bell:

You can stay- until and unless you leave of your own free will. And I will find a way to persuade you.

This was his way. His way to get rid of me. His way to make me hate him so much that I couldn't stand to be in his company anymore, let alone in his employ. I threw a glance at the banner over the podium and shuddered. So he wanted to make me hate him, eh? Well, he was going about it right. Whatever else you could say of him, he knew me well.

I stole a glance at his immovable marble face. He… he couldn't really believe that, could he? He couldn't really be on the same side as those blasted chauvinists?

But then my eyes wandered to his dark, ice-cold eyes.

Are you kidding? Of course he can! Look at him! He's probably spearheading their movement!

And as much as I hated my inner voice right at that moment, I had, for once, to agree with it. If there ever was a man who crushed anything in his path, it was Rikkard Ambrose. Arrogance and raw masculinity rolled off him in waves that were almost tangible. The bastard!

Anger surged up inside me.

So what? So what if he was in cahoots with them? I would be damned if I let his intrigues deprive me of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I didn't care whether he thought I couldn't handle the dangers of my job, I would prove him wrong! And I would begin proving him wrong by surviving this humiliation! How bad could it be? I only had to stand beside him, after all.

Yes. Stand beside him and listen while he defiles the most sacred beliefs of your heart.

Oh, thank you very much for pointing that out. Thank you!

Leaving the coach in the capable hands of the driver, Mr Ambrose strode towards Cumberland Gate and the park beyond, myself close at his heels. In spite of the masses of people gathered at the northeast corner of the park, we had no problems finding our way towards Speaker's Corner. People made way for Mr Ambrose as if he were the King of England. Well, in a sense he was the king of his personal empire. Did the people around us know that? Or did they just feel the iron aura of authority that surrounded him?

‘… have developed a theory which rests on my study of the female brain. Though spurned by my colleagues at Cambridge University, I, Professor William H. Anstruther, am wholeheartedly convinced of this theory. It may be years ahead of scientific thinking today, but that only adds to its brilliance.'

Looking up, I saw that there was a man at the front of the podium, speaking to the crowd. He was a thin fellow, with a thin moustache and thin voice. Nevertheless, the crowd seemed to be listening intently.

‘Based on my measurements of female head circumferences,' the man continued, ‘I have concluded that their capacity for logical thought is far behind that of any man. Throughout my studies, this empirical conclusion was supported by behavioural evidence: a great many of the females I approached as potential test subjects frankly refused to have their head shorn in order for me to be able to take their measurements.'

I opened my mouth to laugh - however, then I took a look around and saw other people nodding and exchanging looks of satisfaction. Bloody hell! The people here were actually taking this seriously!

By now, Mr Ambrose and I had approached the side of the platform, where a staircase led upwards. A young underling in a too-big suit waited there and almost fell over himself when he recognized the man who was coming towards him.

‘Mr Ambrose!'

If he had bowed any deeper, his nose would have brushed the ground. I threw him a disgusted glance he didn't notice. His attention was fully focused on my loathsome, conniving, cold-hearted bastard of an employer.

‘W-we are t-terribly honoured that you could join us here t-today, Sir,' the young man stuttered. ‘It is not often that we have the good fortune of a man of your stature lending his support to our venture. We cannot thank you enough…'

‘Mr Cartwright is waiting for me?' Mr Ambrose cut him off.

‘W-well, yes, Sir,' the young man answered, not seeming in the least offended at this gross violation of good manners. ‘He has been eagerly a-awaiting your a-arrival, Sir. He was so thrilled w-when we received notice of your intention…'

‘Lead me to him!'

‘W-why, yes, of course, Sir. F-follow me.'

The stutterer started to stumble up the stairs, and we followed with enough distance so as not to run into him, should he trip over his own feet.

‘Why so abrupt, Mr Ambrose?' I hissed at the broad, ramrod-straight back in front of me. ‘Don't you like to be flattered?'

‘I don"t like wasting my time, Mr Linton - which is, essentially saying the same.'

‘If you don"t like wasting your time, then why are we here?'

‘Because this is a very important event which will further one of the most important aims in my life.'

I clenched my teeth together.

Don't say anymore! Don't say another word to him, or you will start screaming and cursing, or try to attack him!

So stopping women from getting the vote was one of the great aims of his life? He was very lucky that, unlike Patsy, I didn't carry a parasol around with me wherever I went!

Thinking of Patsy made my heart ache again. What had I done! Betraying my friends, forsaking them in their hour of need, and for what? For this? For having to stand idly by and do nothing while Professor William H. Anstruther propounded his theories about female head circumferences? And let me tell you, he was still very busily propounding.

‘And refusing to take part in my experiment was not the only manner in which females exhibited strange behaviour,' Professor Anstruther proclaimed with a raised finger. ‘Oh no. Furthermore, completely insensible of the vast contribution to scientific progress they might have made, several of the females I approached about shaving their head even started to exhibit unnecessarily emotional behaviour, screaming for help and doubting my mental health, in very strong language. Through such irrational behaviour, they only confirmed my belief that their mental capacity is vastly inferior to that of men in general. It is now up to you, lords, ladies and gentlemen, to use the results of my work and implement…'

‘Mr C-Cartwright?'

My attention snapped back from the professor to our stuttering companion. We had reached the top of the stairs by now. A group of well-dressed men was waiting there, at the back of the podium. Doubtless they would all take their turns smashing the aspirations of modern womanhood. I let my eyes wander over them. Lords, industrialists, priests and scientists… it seemed the powerful of this world were out to trample my dreams. Well, since it was me, what else was to be expected?

Stuttermouth had lead us to a portly figure with a neat black beard, before whom he bowed nearly as deeply as he had done in front of Mr Ambrose. The other man nodded back.

‘Mr C-Cartwright? I have b-brought you our special g-guest. May I introduce you to Mr R-Rikkard Ambrose, who has kindly agreed to s-support us in our efforts t-today? Mr Ambrose, this is Mr C-Cartwright, the organizer of this little initiative.'

Mr Cartwright's face split into a delighted smile, and he bowed deeply.

‘Mr Ambrose! Welcome! I must say, I was most pleasantly surprised when I received your message yesterday that you had decided you would support us. It is not often that a man of your stature involves himself in politics.'

Mr Ambrose eyes remained as cold and distant as ever. He did not smile. He did not bow. ‘When there is a good cause to be aided, I cannot simply stand back and do nothing, Mr Cartwright.'

‘That is a very admirable quality in you, Mr Ambrose. And who is this gentleman, if I may ask?'

The fiend gestured to me.

For a moment I thought the ghost of a smile flickered over Mr Ambrose's face. But no, I had to be wrong. Mr Ambrose did not make use of something as wasteful as a smile - unless he was utilizing it to manipulate people, of course! Bastard!

‘That is my private secretary, Mr Victor Linton. He has a keen interest in matters of gender-politics and so I brought him along. I'm sure it will be a valuable lesson for him.'

Gah! Go on! Strangle him! It'll be worth the life-long prison sentence! Just do it!

Valuable lesson my foot! I hardly noticed when Mr Cartwright bowed to me as well and said, brightly:

‘I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Linton. I hope you enjoy our little gathering.'

I didn't quite know what to answer to that. Making his acquaintance created several powerful feelings in me - delight was definitely not among them. So I just bowed and muttered something unintelligible. He smiled and directed his stuttering assistant to lead us to an empty place in the row of waiters at the back of the platform, right beside a deaf old duke. We were right among the nobs, apparently.

‘So I have a keen interest in gender-politics, do I?' I hissed into Mr Ambrose's ears as soon as stuttermouth had vanished.

‘Well, you do, don"t you?'

‘Do you know what I have a keen interest in right now? Bashing your face in!'

He didn't flinch.

‘Calm your overexcited feminine temperament, Mr Linton,' he advised. ‘No one is threatening to shear your head. Not yet, at least.'

‘You…!'

But before I could specify my opinion of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, a roar of applause went up from the crowd. Either Professor Anstruther had just reached a very convincing argument in his theory, or his place had been taken by a stand-up comedian from the nearest music hall.

I took a look and sighed with resignation. No, it was still Anstruther, propounding his opinions. By now he had reached a detailed analysis of the differing head circumferences of females and males, and was comparing female human skulls to those of various apes.

‘The most similarities I have observed are to be found between women and chimpanzees,' he was just saying, to another round of applause from the crowd. ‘Their heads show about the same growth pattern.'[44]

‘Interesting theory, don"t you think?' Mr Ambrose commented, in a voice so low only I could hear. ‘Especially considering their comparable intellectual capabilities.'

I balled my little hands into fists. They felt so insignificant. If only they were larger and stronger. If only I were. Strong enough to withstand this.

‘You are despicable,' I informed Mr Ambrose. ‘I really ought to teach you a lesson!'

‘Really?' He cocked his head, looking at me with calculating cold eyes. ‘I am quite sure that an assault on your employer would be in contradiction of our agreement and that I would be perfectly within my rights to release you from my service. But if you think it is worth it…' His cold gaze wandered to my clenched fists. ‘Do not let me stop you.'

Taking a deep breath, I tried to relax my fingers.

You can do this, I told myself. You can do this!

My fingers didn't relax. But I didn't punch him either.

‘I know what you're doing,' I informed him. ‘And it is not working.'

‘Indeed?'

‘Yes. You're trying to get me to give you a reason to sack me.'

‘I see.'

‘But I will not. You're trying to get rid of me because you don"t think I can do my job properly, but I will prove you wrong!'

‘So that is my sinister motivation? How deplorably easy I am to see through.'

Was that sarcasm in his voice? No, it couldn't be. After all, sarcasm was a form of humour.

I didn't reply to his words, choosing instead to lapse into silence. So did he. I simply stood there and endured, while Mr Ambrose waited for me to crack.

I did not.

Maybe he was surprised by my endurance as I listened to Professor Anstruther droning on and on about women and chimpanzees. But there was something I knew that he didn't. I had something to look forward to. Maybe, just maybe, this event wouldn't go quite as Mr Ambrose had anticipated.

It was during a particularly long-winded sub-speech on chimpanzee mating practices that what I had waited for finally came. A shout went up from the back of the crowd, and a waving sign appeared over the heads of the assembled people.

The sign read:

VOTES FOR WOMEN NOW!

‘Forward, girls!' A familiar voice rose up, drowning out Anstruther without much difficulty. ‘For the oppressed women of Britain!'

*~*~**~*~*

People made way for Patsy Co extremely quickly. That might have been partly because of the menacing way in which Patsy wielded her parasol, but her mere presence would have parted the masses as Moses had parted the red sea. Only that the red sea had probably not been that afraid of Moses.

‘Down with chauvinist oppression! Votes for women now! Votes for women now!'

I was so proud of my friends, as I watched them marching through the crowd, chorusing their beliefs for all the world to hear! Unthinkingly, my feet moved forward to join them - but then I remembered: I was in men's clothes!

I wasn't Miss Lilly Linton, dedicated suffragist, I was Mr Victor Linton, private secretary to Mr Rikkard Ambrose. If only I had known more swear words! I would have dearly liked to curse my trousers and the man who had forced me to put them on with every existing expletive in the world!

‘Votes for women now! Here, educate your mind, Sir. Take this leaflet! Broaden your horizons, madam. Do you really think you are unfit to make decisions that men can make? Here, take a look at our pamphlet.'

They had now started handing out flyers among the crowd. I had never even known they had prepared any! That served me right. I had been so caught up in Ella's problems and my work for Mr Ambrose that I had totally neglected my friends. And the worst thing was: I couldn't even tell them why!

‘This is outrageous!'

Mr Cartwright had appeared at our side. The portly man, who had looked so friendly just a moment ago, was glaring at Patsy with an intensity I hadn't thought him capable of. ‘How dare this lady interrupt our event! Oh, what am I saying? Female, not lady! You cannot with a clear conscience call such a wanton creature a lady!'

Mr Ambrose nodded. ‘I agree.'

‘What do you think, Mr Ambrose? Should I have her removed?'

Without meaning to, I shook my head. Have Patsy removed? ‘I don"t think that would be a good idea.'

‘Bad press, you mean, manhandling a woman?' Mr Cartwright snorted. ‘Unfortunately, you're probably right, Mr Linton.'

It wasn't easy to suppress my smile. That wasn't what I had been thinking of, actually. Patsy had her parasol with her. If some men attempted to ‘remove' her, I wouldn't like to be in those men's shoes.

Hm… why not let them try?

‘Miss! Mind your manners!' Professor Anstruther waved imperiously at Patsy and rustled with his scholarly papers. ‘Surely you do not intend to disturb my speech?'

‘Oh yes, that's exactly what I intend! Votes, ladies and gentlemen, votes for women!'

‘I beg your pardon?' The professor was turning red in the face. He sounded as if he wished a quick disappearance from Patsy, rather than her pardon. ‘It is the right of every Englishman to freely speak his mind on Speaker's Corner! How dare you interrupt me?'

‘Oh, you can talk as much as you want,' Patsy agreed, not stopping with the flyer distribution or even bothering to look up. ‘That doesn"t mean, though, that I can't talk back to you. Votes for women, ladies and gentlemen! For equality between the sexes and a bright future for Britain!'

‘The head circumference of the chimpanzee…' Professor Anstruther continued, raising his voice - but to no avail. Patsy raised her voice, too, to heights he couldn't hope to reach.

‘A bright future,' she called, ‘where no women will be pestered to shave their heads without good cause!'

There were snickers from the crowd, and a few of the ladies present surreptitiously grabbed one of the flyers, studying with interest.

‘…circus dance… no, circumference, I beg your pardon, lords, ladies and gentlemen, circumference, of course… yes, the head circumference of the chimpanzee is similar to that of females from the age of…'

‘Women contribute to life in Great Britain just as much as men do,' Patsy proclaimed. ‘Why should they not have the same rights? Read the pamphlet, make up your own mind.'

‘…the age of seven is equal to the male head circus tents, as my thesis has proven and… Blast it!'

Professor Anstruther had dropped his notes and was now on his knees, trying to salvage as much of his marvel of anthropological science as he possible could. All that remained of his speech against suffragism were a few very unscholarly curses.

‘A disaster! A downright disaster!' Mr Cartwright was wringing his hands now, and it was a joy to see. ‘Mr Firth, the next speaker, is supposed to arrive in only half an hour! What am I supposed to do? Curse these infernal suffragists!'

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a sombre and worried expression on my face. All I wanted to do was run to Patsy, hug her and congratulate her on her glorious victory against the masculine forces of evil! It took all my willpower to stay still and pull the corners of my mouth down.

‘Are you having facial cramps, Mr Linton?' Mr Ambrose enquired out of the corner of his mouth.

‘No, Sir. I'm just enjoying myself.'

‘Is that so, Mr Linton?'

‘Yes, it is, Mr Ambrose.'

‘Well, let us see what we can do to change that.'

With two swift motions, Mr Ambrose removed his gloves and his top hat. Then he handed both, along with his cane, to Mr Cartwright, who took it all, too surprised at being treated like a common footman to refuse.

‘Hold these for me, will you?' Mr Ambrose flexed his fingers. Suddenly, I felt a cold pit opening up in my stomach. No. Oh no. ‘I have work to do.'

He strode towards the front of the podium, shoved the kneeling Professor Anstruther aside none too gently and built himself in front of the crowd. Shouldn't I have said planted himself? No, he was too hard, too cold for a plant. He built himself like a monument of stone and metal.

I watched, dread welling up inside me, as the crowd whispered excitedly, my friends stopped moving and all eyes went to him. Especially the female ones.

Mr Ambrose took a deep breath and opened his lips to speak.