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.
