Petra waved at Dottie, who was drinking tea in a knot of young girls in the cloth hats and coats and sturdy shoes of working women.

“Let’s see if we can get seats close to the front.” Petra weaved her way through the groups to the front of the hall where Christabel Pankhurst was already standing at the dais in front of a table piled with papers. She went up to the table, greeting the woman with a cheerful smile. “It looks like quite a crowd tonight, Christabel.”

“Oh, Petra, so you’re back in town.” Christabel returned the greeting as she rubbed her hands together vigorously. “It’s always so cold in here. Let’s hope the room will warm up with all the bodies. Is that Diana?” She indicated Diana, who was talking with a woman by the wall. “She always has a flask of something warming on her.”

Petra laughed. “Tonight’s no exception . . . Diana,” she called over the buzz of voices.

Diana excused herself and came over to the dais. “Good evening, Christabel. Are you ready to rouse the troops?”

“I was hoping for a nip from your flask first,” the other woman said, laughing. “Dutch courage.”

“Since when have you ever needed that?” Diana handed over a silver flask. “Finest cognac, I think you’ll find.”

“Oh, I brought some too,” Fenella said, coming up behind them. “I was going to get some tea. Anyone want a cup?”

“I’ll help you,” Petra plunged back into the chattering throng, heading for the tea table, Fenella on her heels. They returned to the dais carrying two cups of tea each and after a few more words with Christabel while they spiced up the dark brew in their cups took their seats in the front row.

The atmosphere of this meeting was different from usual, Petra thought. There was a buzz of excitement, of anticipation, but also of trepidation. They were planning a march like any of the others they had taken but this one meant invading the hallowed halls of Westminster itself. While the building was open to the public with the right entrees, the wives and families of members of Parliament, and anyone with official business, the protocols for admission and conduct were rigid. These women were intending to shatter those protocols forcibly.

When they finally left Caxton Hall, the three women were silent as they walked down Palmer Street in search of a hackney. Finally Petra said, “Something’s changed, hasn’t it? There’s a different feeling in the air.”

“Determination,” Fenella suggested. “Impatience. We’re not making enough progress. The government’s no closer even to listening to us.”

“It’s time to get their attention,” Diana stated. “And an invasion of St. Stephen’s Hall will certainly do that.”