A burst of energy made Catriona sit up straight and blink to clear her eyes.
Heckling ensued, and oh-ohs rose from the benches of the House.
Lucie pressed her forehead back to the screen. “Ugh. It’s Sir George.”
Catriona rose and put her face to the grille, too. There was enough space for one eye to have a clear view. In a sea of heads, the Scotsman’s stern visage stood out, looking red even from a distance.
“I suggest any honorable members who say ‘oh-oh’ might leave the House,” he bellowed. “Mr. Speaker, if you believe that I shall let this bill pass without a reasonable discussion—”
“Hmm,” said Lucie, “almost thirty years of discussion are unreasonable, then?”
“。 . . this bill is as important as all the other bills that passed the House since this Parliament began.”
Someone laughed.
“Aye, the honorable members might laugh, but this bill created a social revolution that affected almost every family in this country and was being passed through the House without one man or woman in a million having any idea of what was being done.”
“What?” Hattie squeezed her head next to Catriona’s, her cheek radiating indignant heat. “Lucie, is he serious? We have spent years on educating people about the bill—So. Many. Years . . .”
“Shh,” hissed Lucie. “Your feather is in my face.”
“Whoops.” Hattie took off her hat.
“。 . . The Christian form of marriage, under which there was complete community between the married parties for life, is the best form of marriage!” Sir George proclaimed. “However, the ‘women’s righters’ have been exceedingly energetic—” Here, he shot a glare at the gallery, causing some of the women to shrink back. Lucie bared her teeth. “。 . . Exceedingly energetic, whilst the friends of the poor married man have been indolent. I can sense the mood of this House, so I wish to stand here today and be eternalized in the records as one of the few who fought to obtain a small measure of justice for the poor, unfortunate married man.”
Another MP rose from the bench, his bald pate shiny in the gaslight. Catriona recognized the lilt of his voice from one of her countless petition meetings, a Mr. Fowler.
“Mr. Speaker,” Mr. Fowler said, “I should like to know how fair is it, that the honorable Member for Kirkcaldy, a Scotchman, should interpose to prevent the English women having what the Scotch women got last year?”
There were sounds of approval; ask a room full of Englishmen whether they hold with an Englishwoman or a Scotsman, and enough discovered that their local patriotism outranked sentiments of brotherhood.
Sir George raised his hands. “To spare you the trouble,” he said in a tone that barely repressed the indignity of having to speak to idiots. “No man would marry a woman with property, knowing that she could set him at defiance so long as the marriage continued. It would change the position of the sexes, and make the woman, instead of a kind and loving wife, a domestic tyrant. Scripture was opposed to the bill—”
The speaker’s voice came from under the gallery: “The honorable and learned Member’s speech is certainly very discursive, and I must invite him to address himself to the question.”
Sir George snarled something that sounded like “buffoons” as he sat back down again.
“That didn’t go too well for him,” Catriona said with cold glee.
“Serves him right, silly lad,” said Lucie. “Oh, here comes Mr. Warton. Boo, hiss.”
She must have said it too loudly because Catriona saw the Duke of Montgomery turn his head their way. His cool, pale gaze glided over the gallery in a gentle warning.
Mr. Warton, meanwhile, was imploring the House to stop and think; after all, the bill had been “rushed” through the House of Lords.
Morgan Osborne reminded everyone in a deeply tired tone that the bill had been practically discussed to death and was already approved by the Lord Chancellor, and only Warton and Campbell were really blocking it now.
“It’s obstruction,” someone cried.
“Order!”
Unperturbed, Mr. Warton took offense at the wording in almost every line of the bill. Hot air rose from the chamber while his finicky analyses dragged on; the collective mood was stewing like a pot left too long over the fire, any minute now it would boil over.
Mr. Warton charged ahead undeterred. “Consider this—consider that the way this bill is amended as is presently proposed, it backdates its effects. As of the passing of this bill, every husband in Britain who entered marriage under the old conditions shall find himself trapped in a legal situation he never chose . . .”