The Senator and the Student

There is, in the shire beyond Laucester proper, a young man, nimble of mind and body, bound for the University in a matter of seasons. He is most capable with horses and in the kitchen as well, and possessed of a sweetness most unlike the greater part of his coarse sex. He has most tender affections for those he admires, and is most just in his conduct with his family and strangers alike. Though not always full of joy and light, he is rarely disagreeable even when sad as we all must be at times. He loves to be alone in the meadows beyond his family farm, pondering the wild flowers and enjoying the peace that nature alone can bring to those who are open to it.

Senator Rebecca Wharton had written those words some years before, when she wasn't yet a senator and when Chester Croft -- the young man of whom she wrote -- was but a family friend who had only just begun to grow whiskers on his chin. She had, at that time, had some inkling that she might one day be a senator, and truth be told, she'd had some inkling that her love for the dear boy might be frowned upon. Nevertheless, as she now sat uncertainly in her office with a roaring fire inside and the harsh grey autumn outside, she felt a delicious stirring under her skirt as she listened to her executive assistant, Martha, read her own words back to her from the Laucester Beacon. Oh, to have Chester, now a university student who had only grown more gentlemanly in the years that had elapsed, alone with her now! She was quite driven to distraction and not at all attentive to the real trouble young Chester represented, nor to the question of how her errant journal entry had found its way to the press.

Martha was not distracted at all. "Senator, your sentiments here are lovely indeed, but the boy is less than half your age!"

"He's not a boy," the senator replied defiantly, standing up to force herself to focus on something other than the longing she felt for him. "He was when I wrote that, I concede, but he's a man now, and a gentleman at that. I've got nothing to be ashamed of here, Martha."

"Haven't you, though?" Martha gave Rebecca the look, the one that she resented but that was just why Rebecca had hired her to run her office -- a job she did not do politely, but did do well. "Senator, I don't need to tell you what it would mean in the elections if the rumours take hold!"

"Oh, we don't even know if there will be an election anytime soon. The primiere doesn't need to call it for nearly a year yet!"

"But she will call it before year's end, Senator, if she senses that is the only way to stop your male suffrage bill! And how delicious for the leader of the push for that bill to be brought down by a scandal involving a young man! Premiere Wynnton would never be able to resist such a temptation, and from a crassly political point of view, I couldn't blame her!"

"Nor could I, I suppose," Rebecca conceded. "Sandrine Wynnton is on the wrong side of history, but old prejudices never go quietly, do they?"

"Then you understand, Senator! You've already stirred up the Supremists with your leadership on the vote for men -- they're questioning your integrity and even your very gender! Senator Rollins was already considering a rematch, and they say now she will be announcing over the weekend! What if it comes to be believed that you've been intimate with a boy -- or a man -- young enough to be your son?!"

"But I haven't!" Rebecca snapped. She stepped up to the liquor cabinet and poured herself some wine. "Care to imbibe, Martha?"

"I wish I could, but this is no time for that, Senator," Martha said. "And I urge you to take this more seriously!"

"I do take my love for Chester seriously," Rebecca replied, and she retook her seat. "And I take my morality seriously as well, Martha, you know that. The first couple of years after Melvin was killed I had no desire to take any man to my bed, and since I've been a senator, well, I've had no time and no privacy, have I? No, the only intimacy I've ever had with Chester has been emotional. And that has been immensely comforting to the both of us. But it's none of the voters' business who my friends are, regardless of their age or sex."

"I agree with you, but you know as well as I the voters won't see it that way," Martha said. "There is nothing half such fun as indecency involving a young man to ruin one's career, Senator! Especially one like yourself who won so many votes on sympathy for your sacrifice last time."

"My sacrifice!" Rebecca let out a bitter, haughty laugh. "I made no sacrifice, Martha. Melvin suffered all too much from the worst traits of his sex, and he just had to rush off and join the war when there were younger and stronger men than he available to fight! I'm a victim of typical masculine silliness, not of sacrifice."

"My friend, you are the one whose support of gentlemen's rights has made you so controversial in the parlours of Laucester, remember?" Martha reminded her. "I myself am firmly of the belief that men belong in the fields and the factories, not in halls of learning or in a thinking woman's profession like politics." She sighed. "But you are the senator. For now."

"It's Chester who taught me there are men who are worthy of equality, and that all of them deserve a chance at proving they are such," Rebecca said. "His father is a fool more typical of his sex, like Melvin was, and his mother is a rock-ribbed Supremist. You know, she's a close friend but she made a point of telling me she voted for Senator Rollins because she doesn't want men taking over where they don't belong? Bloody fool, she can't even see her own son is a perfect example to the contrary!"

"And yet she forked over the fees to send him to university," Martha mused.

"After opposing my vote to make it possible for him to attend in the first place," Rebecca noted with a wry chuckle. "But I suppose we both know why she wanted him to go."

"If men were allowed in the university, she wanted him to be among the first?" Martha asked. "Family bragging rights?"

"Winnifred Croft has got enough to brag about in her family already," Rebecca corrected. "No, think about it, Martha, the men are outnumbered by the women of the university, seven or eight to one." She gave her assistant a knowing look.

"She wanted him to find a suitable girl to marry," Martha said, barely above a whisper now.

"Exactly." Rebecca took a long sip of her wine. "Someone traditional who'll take care of him and persuade him that he belongs in the field or the army. Or, heaven forbid, in the factory."

"You don't suppose it could be Ms. Croft who leaked your journal to the press?" Martha's queries as to its source had come up empty to date.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain of it," Rebecca said. "Winnifred and I go back an awfully long time, our mothers were occasional business partners over the years, and we were plebes together at Saint Catherine's, you know."

"I still can't fathom how you survived seven years there, Senator," Martha said. "The most conservative boarding school this side of the mountains...oh, that reminds me, their alumnae representative was by earlier to ask about a contribution or a testimonial from you."

"If you see her again, tell her not one crown until they admit boys," Rebecca replied.

"So, never," Martha chuckled.

"Exactly. In any case, Martha, Winnifred and I were plebes together there, and from day one she was all about tradition and respect and kissing our elders' tits, and -"

"Language, please!"

"I'm the boss, Martha, and you obviously haven't heard what gets said in a dormitory at a place like St. Catherine's!"

"And for that I consider myself most fortunate." Martha had gone to a city day school in Laucester like most girls of her class.

"As well you should," Rebecca said. "But as I was saying, she was always one for playing by the rules so she could worm her way to the top and be the one enforcing those rules. Now in her riding at least, she is. I was always the rebel, always the one asking the girls, be honest, do you really not want any boys here? Always the one refusing to play the ancient games and kiss up to the others, always respecting only those who earned my respect. All it got me at first was a lot of time sweeping up the floors in the older girls' rooms and worse. But I had a feeling it got me the begrudging admiration of some of the others."

"Not Ms. Croft, though, I take it."

"I thought not at first," Rebecca said. She took a long drink of her wine and looked out the window at the late fall foliage decorating the capital city, and remembered. "But...oh, that is a story for another time, Martha. What matters is that three years in, we became the fiercest of friends."

"Despite your political differences, then," Martha said.

"Because of our political differences! That dear always did love to argue. She was a Supremist from the day she could vote, all about preserving the old ways and letting men have their place and us have ours. Me, as long as I can remember, I've never understood why anyone ought to be second-class just because he can't give birth. I mean, isn't that already punishment enough?"

"Punishment!" Martha forgot the dire political situation in a moment of levity. "You must have had an easier birth with Sarah than I had with either of mine. But I agree with you, in any event."

"I didn't say giving birth to Sarah was easy," Rebecca said. "But it was a privilege just the same. If Melvin, rest his soul, had known the joy of supporting life within like that..." Rebecca's voice trailed away and she had to snatch a handkerchief out of her handbag and blot her eyes. "I'm sorry, Martha."

"No one doubts that you miss him, Senator," Martha said. Then, as gently as she could, she added, "But we do need to get ahead of this rumour."

"I suppose I should go visit Chester and let him know what's brewing."

"Senator, that's the worst thing you could do!" Martha was once again all business. "It would only feed the story!"

"There is no story!" Rebecca snapped. "Chester is a dear friend and I love him very much, but as I said, my intimacy with him has been purely emotional. I don't want him thinking for one moment that I've been letting anyone believe I've been inappropriate with him!"

"Perhaps you should start by telling his mother that."

"Oh, Winnifred knows. This is but an excuse to drive us apart, and to hurt me for supporting male suffrage. More than likely it's her way of nudging Gwen Rollins to run against me again. The bother is, she also knows I would like to be intimate with Chester, although I haven't been."

"Rebecca, we can't have word on that getting out!" Martha exclaimed. "Or rather, it already is out, but we can't be letting the story gain any legs!"

"I've naught to be ashamed of here, Martha."

"As far as your pubic career is concerned, Senator, that is not your decision to make." Martha checked her watch and arose. "I've got the office meeting to attend to," she said. "We're fortunate this reached the press on a Friday, Rebecca. You've got the weekend to decide how best to demonstrate your distance from the young man, or to make peace with his mother. Or both."

"There's no 'both' here, Martha," Rebecca said with a wan smile. "This is a smear campaign, and the only way I can make peace with Winnifred is by compromising my principles. What sort of leader would I be then?"

Martha paused just inside the office door. "Tell me, Senator, if more rumours emerge about this Chester lad over the weekend, what might I tell the press about them?"

"Whatever you do, tell the truth," Rebecca said. "There's naught of it to be ashamed of. I love the young man dearly, but I haven't infringed upon his morals in any way."

"You do understand that could easily derail your career, Senator?"

"You do understand that I don't care if it does, Martha?"

"It's your fate in the election," Martha said. "But kindly remember if you lose your job, I and the other ladies shall all lose ours as well."

"If I am punished for supporting equality, it's a good job to lose." Rebecca stood up and collected her hat and coat. "Have a good weekend, Martha."

She waited a moment for Martha to make her way down the hall to the office common room, where Rebecca herself never attended meetings; she preferred to allow her staff to feel free to speak their minds without the boss present. Once she had a moment alone to relax and gather her thoughts, Rebecca put on her cloak and collected up her handbag and briefcase. There was plenty of time to catch the early train back to Laucester.

She did appreciate Martha's concern, but just as her late husband had been willing to die for keeping the Eastern rebels detained beyond the mountains, Rebecca had metaphorical hills she was willing to die on as well. Anyone willing to work for her ought to be willing to accept that, she had always felt. And perhaps the two biggest of those hills were her commitment to gender equality, and her love for Chester Croft. None but her own daughter, Sarah, commanded the respect Rebecca had for Chester.

The premiere might well get away with using that love to derail her quest for equality, Rebecca conceded to herself, but damned if she wouldn't go down without a fight.

It was business as usual, and Rebecca wasn't even planning on speaking up in favour of her men's suffrage bill today. No point in reminding Premiere Wynnton that she was still a couple of votes short of even bringing it to the floor, after all. Instead she sat at her desk and assessed the list of her colleagues for the hundredth time at least, pretending to listen to Senator Jakesley's weekly harangue about increasing border security in her riding, while in reality she tried to think of something -- anything -- that might entice at least one of the Progressives to reconsider and join the Egalitarians on their -- and her -- signature issue.

Working from the bottom of the roll call upwards was a strategy Rebecca had stumbled upon some time before as a good way to get Premiere Wynnton out of the way early on. Lady Sandrine Wynnton, whose own Mainline Party had been decimated nearly everywhere beyond her own remote riding but who had managed to cobble together a bare majority of nearly everyone but the Egalitarians, would support male suffrage "when the lambs start to singing Goddess Bless the Shire," as she had advised her many friends in the media repeatedly over her decades in the Senate. That had never stopped Rebecca and her Egalitarian colleagues, washed into office three years before on an anti-war backlash tide, from agitating for a vote on the matter. But while a clear majority of senators had confided in Rebecca that they supported giving men the vote if only they didn't have to cross Lady Sandrine to do so, she remained a few votes short of a majority who were willing to vote publicly to bring the matter to the floor against the Premiere's wishes.

She got that unpleasant matter onto the backburner quickly by working her way upward from the bottom of the list. But that also meant she was nowhere near reaching Senator Ellie Abood's name when she appeared at Rebecca's side. "Pardon me, Rebecca?" she said.

Rebecca set down the list and looked up. "Ellie?" She couldn't hide her surprise at the visit. Ellie, a Progressive from the lower coast, was one of several of her party who had narrowly defeated Egalitarians and then aligned themselves with Lady Gwen's coalition, and Rebecca had kept her distance rather than trying to hide her resentment. Faced with her colleague now, though, she managed to do that. "What can I do for you? I'm already supporting your fishermen's compensation bill, you know."

"I do, and thank you," Ellie said. "But that's not why I'm here." She took a nervous look around to ensure none of their colleagues were in earshot, and satisfied that none were, she continued. "Not directly, anyway."

"Not directly?" Rebecca smiled through her confusion. Ellie knew perfectly well that Rebecca's own riding, centred on the bustling city of Laucester, had little to gain from her bill but higher prices for fish.

"That's right, not directly," Ellie said. "I..." Her voice trailed away as she spotted Premier Wynnton entering the chamber, accompanied by a gaggle of her staff as usual. "I'm sorry, Rebecca, is there someplace I could have a private word with you?"

"Certainly." Rebecca stood up and drew the key to the minority leader's office out of her desk drawer. Whatever horses Ellie wanted to trade, perhaps it was a better use of her time than trying to squeeze any further blood from the turnip of male suffrage just now anyway.

The minority leader's office was dark and chilly. Rebecca lit the oil lamp on the leader's desk and asked Ellie if they'd be there long enough to justify lighting a fire. "I shouldn't think so, Rebecca," Ellie said, shutting the door behind her. "I do apologize for taking you away from your business, but I couldn't risk being overheard by Lady Sandrine before I'd had a word with you."

"I certainly know what dealing with her is like," Rebecca said. She sat down in a chair by the unlit fireplace and bade Ellie take the other chair, which she did. "But what is said in this room stays in this room."

"Oh, I don't think it should," Ellie said. "But I want to clear it with you first in any event."

"And it's not directly about the fishermen." Rebecca resisted -- barely -- the temptation to remind her colleague of her tiny margin of victory in the election and how it might swell if her beloved fishermen could vote.

"Well, perhaps it is directly about them," Ellie said. "You see, Rebecca, I had a long meeting with them and their wives last weekend. Most of their wives supported me in the election because the Progressives are the ones with a history of supporting labour, you know --"

"I am painfully aware of that, Ellie." Rebecca couldn't stop herself, nor could she refrain from once again kicking herself for allowing her party to be defined as a single-issue one.

"As well you might be," Ellie acknowledged with a nervous titter. "But a lot of them are threatening not to vote for me next time."

"I've already said I support your bill, Ellie. That should keep them happy."

"No," Ellie said. "It won't, and at this point it won't make me happy either, Rebecca. You'll have heard about the horrible squall that hit my riding last month?"

"Oh, heavens, were any fishermen lost?"

"Miraculously, no," Ellie said. "But some of my supporters' husbands were nearly lost. It was well into the next day before all were accounted for, and a few of them spent the night stranded out in the islands before they could be rescued. And as soon as they were all recovered and the skies cleared, they all went right back out to do their jobs!"

"They haven't much choice, Ellie, have they?"

Ellie sighed. "My point exactly. Or rather, their point! One after another, their wives all said they put their lives on the line to put food on their table -- and to feed the entire country, indeed -- and here we won't even let them vote!"

A litany of retorts formed on Rebecca's lips -- wasn't it Ellie's party that had sided with the Supremists and Mainliners to keep it that way? -- but she tamped them down in favour of a triumphant smile as she realised what Ellie was saying. "Ellie, do you want to change that?"

"Exactly," Ellie said. "Rebecca, I want to join you. I want to help you bring the bill to the floor. Is it true you've got the votes to pass it?"

"It's true enough of the others have told me they'd vote for it," Rebecca acknowledged. "But they haven't had to go on the record. Of course, if you speak up, Ellie..."

"How many more votes will you need besides mine to force a vote?"