10 November, 1894 — Bartonburg

When the news broke last month Calvin's sister had been at his kitchen table within an hour. The suffrage bill had been hinted at here and there in the news for months but this was the first time they had anything approaching details, so there was plenty to discuss. It didn't go far enough, he pointed out — speaking so freely on the subject only because it was just the pair of them alone in his kitchen. She was too caught up in the moment to allow his cynicism.

It was her idea to ask Berkwood to dinner to interrogate him on the subject. Cal wouldn't have minded some more answers on how they'd gotten to this bill and where the Minister actually stood on the matter, sure, but he was hardly keen to just come right out and ask, and particularly not to make a whole evening of it. His sister was nothing if not persistent, though, so she'd eventually worn him down and he'd sent an invitation. Not to discuss politics or voting reform, just for dinner. He thought it was a compromise; he hadn't realized until Berkwood arrived and the three of them settled in for dinner that it had actually been an ambush. His sister did most of the talking, per usual. Eventually she had to excuse herself to use the bathroom, leaving Calvin alone with Berkwood and a table full of dirtied dinner dishes. He didn't have staff in the evenings to clear things away; he was a bachelor living alone, and therefore not generally in the position of hosting dinner parties. But Harry Berkwood was also a bachelor living alone, so maybe his expectations for supper weren't as high as they might have been otherwise.

"So that's it, then," he said, with a raise of his eyebrows to imply it was a question even if his tone hadn't conveyed as much. "You're done."

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