For those who have missed the last two chapters, Muriel and her friends have decided to become Worcester suffragettes.- After much hard work collecting signatures on petitions asking for women to have the right to vote,  this was their day to make history.

The day of the rally arrived, and it was not a nice day. The rain was pouring down, the wind was sharp and constant, and the spirits of the girls were considerably dampened.

‘We must give it a go,’ said Muriel. ‘We have put such a lot of time and effort into this that we cannot balk now just because the weather isn’t on our side.’

So the six girls who comprised the remainder of the committee, donned their purple sashes, and with their petitions tightly clutched in their hands, they made their way from Charlotte’s house up across the bridge, and into town. It was only a ten minute walk, but somehow it seemed to take forever, with the wind trying to steal their umbrellas and the papers in their hands. Their sashes which had looked so fine when they first put them on, were now looking decidedly droopy, and some of the ink had run, smudging the message.

It was just before 12 when they arrived, and had hoped to see a huge crowd waiting to cheer them on, but there was nobody there, other than the casual shoppers who didn’t even notice the girls as they hurried about their business, getting out of the miserable weather as quickly as they could.

Muriel knew she had to take the lead. ‘Votes for women!’ she shouted at the top of her voice, and started walking in a circle around the area of High Street just outside the Guildhall. The others felt they had to join in the parade, but their voices were not as loud or positive as hers. Around and around they went, and not a bit of attention did they get – positive or negative. Finally, Muriel said, ‘Let’s take the petitions into the Guildhall and present them to the Mayor.’

The Guildhall is a most impressive building. Built of brick with elaborate and extensive stone dressing it has giant Corinthian pillars. Thomas White, the architect, carved the statue of Queen Ann which is high above the door, and the side statues of Charles I holding a church and Charles II with orb and scepter. There are five figures on the parapet of the building representing Hercules, Peace, Justice, Plenty and Chastisement.

‘We’re here for Justice,’ thought Muriel as she looked up at the statues.

They trooped through the iron gates and railings, and through the big wooden door at the front entrance, past the statues on either side of the door. The Guildhall had been built in 1717, rebuilt  in 1724 and restored in 1880. They came into the large hall with its high ceiling. Each wall was covered with large portraits of past mayors and other noteables of Worcester. Various people were rushing from one room to another and up or down one of the staircases. Muriel found a reception desk and asked politely if they could see the Mayor.
 
‘I’m sorry, but he is not here today,’ she said. ‘May I help?’

‘Is Mr. Maund around?’ asked Margaret. He was one of the city officials and they hoped he might be interested in the cause and be able to help the girls.

‘I will check if he “is in”’ she said. Moments later she came back. ‘Mr. Maund will see you for a few minutes. He is in the Randall Room.’

‘He’s our cousin, I think,’ whispered Margaret. ‘My father’s aunt married a Maund.’
The girls climbed the staircase, and when they came to the door the receptionist had indicated, they knocked. ‘Come in,’ said a gruff voice.

‘Yes, what is it you want?’ he asked, not at all impressed by the water dripping off 6 umbrellas and the tracks made by 12 feet.

‘We are members of the WSPU, and we have been circulating throughout Worcester and getting people to sign our petitions which we intended presenting to the Mayor. We have been told he is not here at the moment, so we would like you to accept these and hand them on to him,’ said Muriel.

‘I don’t know anything about it,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you girls make an appointment and come back another day and see him when he is free?’

‘No, this was our day of protest, and the petitions are to be left here today. Will you take them or not?’ said Muriel, not a little annoyed at his patronage.

‘Please Mr. Maund. I think we are related. I am Margaret Tree, and this is my sister Jessie. I think your mother and my father are cousins. My great grandfather was called Isaac Arrowsmith, and I think that perhaps that he was also your grandfather. I would like you to know that everyone in our household, from my father downwards, signed this petition.’

Muriel was so surprised yet pleased that shy Margaret had made this speech, and Mr. Maund was no doubt impressed by Margaret’s mention of the name Arrowsmith which was well known and revered in Worcester and also in Bristol where the remainder of the family now lived, a very successful group of printers, publishers and authors.

‘What a coincidence,’ he said, suddenly much more friendly. ‘Yes of course, Isaac Arrowsmith was my grandfather and we are relatives of a sort. Here, let me see that petition that you say your father has signed. Ah, here it is, Warren W. A. Tree. The A stands for Arrowsmith. I suppose you knew that. Well, girls because I value this document for the fact that it has been signed by Mr. Tree, I will accept your petitions and hand them on to the Mayor. Thank you for coming out on your mission on such a miserable day.’

He went around and took the petitions off them, shaking each by the hand as he did so.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting in a few minutes.’

So the girls left the room, left the building, feeling both successful and disappointed. They went to a nearby tea shop and had drinks and pieces of cake to celebrate what they had accomplished, whatever good might come of it in the end. Just before they left, Muriel stood up.

‘I think we will leave any plans for a rally or concert to raise funds, etc. for a few weeks to see if we are going to get a response from the Mayor. I think we all have done jolly well, and I want to thank you all for supporting me in this. Perhaps we should plan another meeting at Charlotte’s house in a month’s time so we can report back to each other on what actions our petitions have caused.’

So with that official ending, the girls trailed off in their various directions, pleased that soon they would take off their now almost unreadable badges and get out of their wet clothes.

May and Muriel eagerly searched all the local papers over the next weeks, but there was no word in it whatsoever about their petition. Muriel, who had put her name and address with a covering letter to the Mayor awaited the post each day, but no letter from the Mayor or any of his underlings appeared. They were rather lacking in enthusiasm when the group met again at Charlotte’s house.

None of the girls had heard or read anything relating to their efforts. Even criticism would have been preferable to total silence.

‘Let’s not do a performance,’ said May. ‘I don’t think I could take any more rejection. Let’s just say we did our best and got nowhere.’

The others agreed with her, although Muriel was not quite ready to give up the fight.

‘All right, I agree that perhaps we should let the situation alone for the time being, but I have made a copy of the names of those who signed the petition, and I expect there will be a time in the future when I might be glad to know who we can count on to support us.’

Since there was no other pressing business to do, other than to settle up the accounts with Charlotte for all she had spent for the sashes, paint, cardboard and paper, they agreed that it would be very pleasant to spend the rest of the afternoon playing whist. As there were six of them, they took it in turns for two to sit out.