After a light snowfall, people bid farewell to the year 1900. The New Year's bells rang, marking the arrival of January 1st, 1901.
However, Cecil had no chance to rest; he had to attend a meeting at the Whitehall. The carriage moved forward, slowly traversing through the thin mist. Cecil pulled open the carriage curtains, breathing in the not-so-clean air of London to alleviate the stress.
For Cecil, the latter half of December had been particularly difficult. More and more citizens were questioning the Anglo-Boer War, leading to heavy criticism of the Cabinet. Fortunately, this situation was mainly concentrated in the outskirts of London, and other constituencies remained unaffected.
Sitting beside Cecil was a middle-aged man named Arthur James Belfour, Cecil's nephew and political heir, described by colleagues as a politician who would thrive even in Machiavellian times.
Belfour whispered, "Prime Minister, about the Royal Navy..."
Before he could finish, Cecil rudely interrupted, "I know! I know! But the problem now isn't with Elwin, it's... sigh... mainly the Liberals, that fox Bennaman is too difficult to deal with."
Belfour fell silent.
Both of them knew how critical the situation was now.
They rode in silence to the Whitehall, preparing to meet with the Chancellor of the Exchequer. The carriage came to a slow stop. Belfour gracefully jumped down from the carriage, but Cecil, being of a certain age, was not as agile and had to wait for his nephew to assist him.
Unexpectedly, after a while, Belfour jumped back into the carriage. "Uncle Robert, take a look at this."
Cecil frowned. Belfour had always been tactful in his dealings. Calling Cecil "Prime Minister" was the usual form of address in public. Suddenly switching to "uncle" must mean something had rattled him.
Cecil reached out to close the carriage door. "What is it?"
Belfour handed him the paper, lowering his voice. "It's from the Royal Publisher's Office, a survey questionnaire."
Cecil carefully read the questionnaire, murmuring in surprise, "Women's suffrage?"
Belfour explained, "Perhaps the Liberals have influenced the Queen... no, that's impossible. I just saw the first line of the questionnaire, it says, 'This questionnaire is for survey and statistical purposes only, has no bias, and does not represent any viewpoint.'"
Cecil snorted, "Even if that's the case, is this advantageous to the Conservative Party?"
Belfour fell silent. It wasn't that he couldn't answer the question, but the answer was too grim—bringing the issue of women's suffrage to the forefront was itself a breach of tradition.
What's more, if women were given the right to vote, it was obvious whom they would vote for.
"We acted too late," Belfour finally said.
Cecil didn't respond. In reality, there was no such thing as "too late"; it was the Conservative Party's position that made it impossible for them to adopt the strategies to court women voters. The ballot was a double-edged sword—if it didn't hurt others, it would hurt oneself. The Conservative Party gained the trust of voters by maintaining a steady course, and to maintain that course, they couldn't propose overly radical strategies that would turn the ship of Britain 180 degrees.
But after the Industrial Revolution, everything changed too quickly.
Cecil carefully examined the questionnaire again. "Luckily, these questions are indeed neutral. I just wonder whose idea this survey questionnaire is..."
He pondered over it, "Could it be Professor Lu's?"
...
"So, this is Professor Lu's doing?"
Buckingham Palace,
Queen's Bedroom.
The Queen put down her magnifying glass, picked up her tea, and took a small sip.
Princess Margaret cautiously observed her grandmother's expression, but found the Queen looking calm, showing no sign of any opinion on the questionnaire's content.
The Princess whispered, "Yes, indeed, it's Professor Lu's idea."
The Queen chuckled, "Clever! Truly clever! But..."
Margaret asked, "But what?"
The Queen replied, "It's not a good choice to have the Royal Publisher's Office distribute the questionnaire. It would have been better to use a newspaper with high circulation like The Times, as it would reach a larger audience. However, choosing the Royal Publisher's Office may have been a compromise, and there's nothing to blame about that."
The Queen's tone was full of praise.
Margaret couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, saying, "I thought you wouldn't approve of such a thing."
The Queen drank her tea and said, "The questions in this questionnaire are all very neutral and can accurately reflect the public's attitude. Why wouldn't I approve?"
Margaret couldn't help but smile at the Queen's compliment. Hearing Professor Lu being praised by her grandmother made her very happy, and her little heart swelled like an inflated balloon.
However, the Queen misunderstood her granddaughter's expression and scolded her, "You, just like your mother, always think about these things."
Margaret was at a loss for words.
The Queen glanced at the questionnaire again and said, "Professor Lu is indeed a remarkable person."