A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  As she turned, he gently clutched her elbow. ‘Miss Stanbury, I…’

  Her heart raced at the contact and when she looked into his eyes, she saw what could only be described as over-interest. What did he want with her? Worse, why was he having such an alien effect on her? No one had ever made her feel such confusion or interest.

  She eased her arm from his grasp, the indecision in his gaze rousing her self-protection. ‘Why are you here?’

  He closed his eyes and swiped his hand over his face before opening them again. ‘That is a question I am scrambling to answer myself.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘In all honesty, I don’t know, but I do know it feels right to be here. Talking. With you.’

  Time stood still as their gazes locked and Esther’s body heated under the sudden sombreness of his gaze. He smiled so often, his eyes lighting with amusement and humour, yet both had now disappeared as he considered her.

  And, in that moment, she had no idea which of the two sides of him she preferred.

  *

  What is wrong with you, man? Why say that to her? She’ll think you a predator.

  Lawrence shook his head and huffed a laugh. ‘Sorry, you must think me—’

  ‘A little mad and entirely disconcerting?’ Esther Stanbury’s hazel eyes glistened with a hint of amusement. ‘Does that about sum you up, do you think?’

  Relieved by her humour, Lawrence took off his hat and pushed the hair from his brow. ‘Can I try again?’

  ‘With what?’

  He swallowed as her quiet beauty and delicately flushed cheeks caused a protectiveness in him that was insane considering the feistiness beneath her sedate outer layer. She was beautiful, seemed so wise and kind, and the effect those attributes had on him were, quite frankly, terrifying.

  ‘Mr Culford?’ She raised her eyebrows, her eyes almost golden in the sunlight. ‘I need to get back inside. I’m quite certain you have business to attend to also?’

  Lawrence quickly put on his hat and nodded. ‘Yes, I do. Of course, but…’

  He wanted to ask her to dinner, but the question flailed on his tongue. If she agreed and he spent more time with her, what would become of it? She was clearly ambitious and wanted to make her mark on the world. Something he would usually wholeheartedly applaud, but he also accepted such a woman would never fit into his life when he had the children to think of.

  She frowned. ‘Mr Culford?’

  Clearing his throat, he stalled for time and forced a smile. ‘Can I ask you a question? Were you responsible for the window designs that caused such an uproar last year? The suggestion of female empowerment and having the mannequins wearing military-inspired dress to symbolise the battle they are fighting was quite a statement. I thought it ingenious.’

  Pride immediately brightened her eyes and her shoulders relaxed. ‘I was, yes.’

  ‘They were most impressive. Served their purpose with your exact intention and provocation. Very clever. Your employers must think your interest in women’s rights a progressive one, if they agreed to such a bold statement all those months ago.’

  ‘Elizabeth Pennington and Joseph Carter are very forward-thinking.’

  ‘Joseph Carter?’

  ‘Elizabeth’s husband and co-manager. She is known by the name Pennington at the store only. Her married name is Elizabeth Carter and, yes, they wholeheartedly support equal rights and opportunities for everyone. Regardless of gender, financial background, colour or creed.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Elizabeth is someone I admire very much and I’m very fortunate to be able to call her my friend as well as employer. She’s ambitious, hard-working and always caring and attentive to others. Just because I believe…’ She halted and briefly closed her eyes before opening them again and softly smiling. ‘I apologise. Once I start to talk about women and our place in society, it’s like opening a floodgate.’

  He shook his head, not wanting her to halt. Seeing her so passionate and alive with focus only served to enhance his interest and attraction. ‘On the contrary. I’d like to hear more from you. It’s something I have a great interest in, too. It was my keen interest in the continuing newspaper coverage of the suffrage campaign that led me to adding my support. I’m sympathetic to the Cause and have wondered how I can do more, but everything seems to be constantly hindered by government barriers.’

  Her gaze grew intense on his as though assessing his sincerity. ‘Yes, it’s frustrating. The barriers are there and no matter the petitions, letters to governors and others, we don’t seem to be getting any closer to our goal.’ She stared into the distance before facing him once more. ‘The suffragettes are taking more and more radical action. For many months, I’ve thought their tactics unnecessary, but as time goes on…’

  Lawrence stilled as concern whispered through him. ‘You’re considering jumping sides?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘The suffragettes’ actions are escalating. Do you really want to become involved? There were further reports of bombings and violent petitions in the papers last week. These occurrences are happening more and more.’

  She pulled back her shoulders, her gaze darkening with clear defensiveness. ‘What I decide to do or not do is not your concern. I really must bid you good day, Mr Culford.’

  Turning on her heel, she walked towards Pennington’s open double doors.

  Inwardly cursing, Lawrence let her go.

  Her vexation had been tangible, and although he had no right to steer her in any direction, the notion of her getting caught up in anything violent worried him.

  Once she’d disappeared from his view, Lawrence slowly walked away from Pennington’s, his feet moving of their own accord along Milsom Street towards The Phoenix, his hotel on Queens Square.

  How could he have been so foolish to assert any sort of opinion on Miss Stanbury? He should have told her of his widowhood. For all he knew, she could assume him married. A man without morals or mindfulness.

  He continued to walk, his head bowed and mentally kicking himself for behaving like a fool.

  Six

  Esther leaned over Louise’s shoulder and pointed to her latest slogan design. ‘The lioness could easily become a recognisable symbol of the group. A new image that will pertain to the Society right here in Bath.’

  Louise frowned and placed her hands on her slender hips. ‘I’m not so sure a lioness portrays what we are.’

  Esther straightened, her passion for the Cause driving her excitement. ‘A lioness is the hunter, the provider of food and sustenance to her young. The one the lion depends upon to nourish their family, their pride, so they might thrive and strengthen. Isn’t that everything we want for our fellow women, our families and children?’

  Murmurs of agreement sounded from the sixteen women seated in the back room of the post office Louise ran with her husband, Wyatt. If Esther secured the backing of the others for a new campaign, it would bring their section of the suffragist movement far more respect than they had managed to achieve in the city thus far.

  Lawrence Culford’s concern when she’d mentioned the suffragettes had harangued her conscience all day. She had never been an advocate for violence and, despite her impatience for the group to move forward, Lawrence’s obvious concern had made her realise it was too soon to resort to something she could come to regret.

  For she already regretted snapping at him the way she had.

  Since when had she become so embroiled in her quest for the vote that she retorted to genuine alarm with harshness? That was something that reminded her far too much of her stepmother. And Lawrence had been alarmed. Despite barely knowing him, Esther seemed to sense his emotions more quickly and more assuredly than she’d like.

  She forced her attention back to the here and now as she strolled around the table. The women turned in their chairs and she caught the eyes of each as she walked. ‘We need to launch ourselves as a force to be respected. To watch. A group that women can access and join. At the moment, who knows where we meet? Who
knows how to speak with us?’

  ‘But it has to be that way for our safety.’ Louise lifted Esther’s sketch. ‘These are good, but parading our group in such a way will mean we become that much more of a target for the authorities. Not to mention the press. Our meetings are held in secret for a reason. They state in the papers that enforced feeding of suffragette campaigners is at an all-time high. Sooner or later, someone is going to die. For the time being, I am not prepared to expose myself, or any of you, to such risk.’ Louise looked at Esther and her eyes clearly indicated the silent end of her sentence. But that may well change in time…

  Esther nodded. ‘I agree, but we do need more members to join the fight. We need more men like your husband.’

  Part of her mentioned men as a secret atonement to Lawrence and everything he clearly stood for. She didn’t doubt his involvement in the Cause… even if she did doubt if his interest in her was entirely about her work for the Society. Whatever the man wanted from her, her trust and respect for him, if she were to ever see him again, would have to be earned.

  She pulled back her shoulders. ‘My mother worked tirelessly for the Cause and involved me as soon as I was old enough. I have listened for half of my life to the frustrations and wants of so many women. I will not stop for me and I will not stop for my mother.’

  Murmurings sounded around the room.

  Esther straightened her spine as fire burned hot inside of her.

  Since her father had banished her, she’d supported herself even while her aunt continued to receive payouts from her father. She didn’t need or want his money. He no longer wished to have his daughter living with him but continued to send monetary compensation. No doubt as a way to soothe his conscience for betraying the trust and care Esther’s mother would have expected of him when she died. Aunt Mary rarely disclosed her feelings about Esther’s work or, indeed, her estrangement from her father. Which, more often than not, left Esther feeling that her living with her aunt was as fragile a situation as it had been when she’d been at home with her father.

  How was she to explain to the women of the Society the effects on her should she fail to achieve all she set out to do when so many of them had security, money, families and soft places to fall?

  Determined that her ideas would be seriously considered, Esther pushed forward, despite the groans and scuffles that resounded around the room, threatening her confidence. Louise’s husband supported their campaign, even if his help was reluctantly welcomed by some members. It sometimes felt as though she and Louise would never make certain women seated in the room believe that men were not the enemy but extra bodies that could help them succeed in their endeavours.

  Frustrated but not ready to give up, Esther strode back to her empty seat and picked up the poster she’d designed, holding it aloft. ‘If we paste this to as many billboards and buildings as possible, we will garner further support from both men and women. Here I have joined the lioness with the lion, thus demonstrating that human beings, regardless of their gender, can work together. Just because the government fights us at every corner, there are plenty of men who encourage and support our right to vote.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Cecilia Reed, a staunch woman in her mid-thirties, sniffed.

  She often cited herself above Louise, who was the group’s elected leader. There was something about Cecilia that Esther didn’t entirely trust. Her negativity and questioning sometimes poked at her intuition that Cecilia’s agenda for the group was far from their goals of suffrage and unity.

  Esther mustered every ounce of bravado she had and crossed her arms. ‘Do you have something to add, Cecilia?’

  ‘I do. Perhaps you would like to name these so-called male supporters? I am yet to find a single man who comes to more than one petition before he disappears again. The last campaign we held, the only man there, along with his infernal scribbling, was the journalist, Robert Sharp. We all know he only writes what serves to brighten his name in the public’s opinion. What man actually wants to give us one iota of real empowerment?’ She glanced around the table, her cheeks flushed. ‘I know my husband doesn’t. And, in my experience, most husbands believe the same.’

  Esther held Cecilia’s gaze, her mind filling with Lawrence and his admiration of her window design and his keen attentiveness in everything she’d had to say about women’s progression. Did she really know him well enough to voice his name as a supporter? It suddenly felt incredibly unfortunate that she did not.

  She cleared her throat. ‘I know of a few men, for your information.’

  ‘Really?’ Cecilia raised her eyebrows, torment glinting in her dark brown eyes. ‘Care to name them?’

  Despite the goading Cecilia seemed intent on pursuing, Esther shook her head. ‘It isn’t my place to name anyone who shows support unless they wish it. Only people willing to publicly show their commitment and who are fully aware of the challenges they’re exposing themselves to should be named. Anything else is immoral and controlling. Don’t you think?’

  Murmurs of ‘hear, hear’ and ‘absolutely’ sounded around the room.

  Cecilia threw a final glare at Esther before she leaned back and crossed her arms under her ample bosom.

  Triumphant, Esther turned to Louise, who smiled as she rose to her feet. ‘On that note, I’m calling tonight’s meeting to a close. Please each take one of Esther’s posters and pamphlet designs to consider for our demonstration next week. I’d really appreciate your opinions on deciding if we go forward with these new messages. Is Esther right? Should we focus on enrolling more women and men into the Bath chapter? It’s highly probable in doing so, it will better serve us in getting councillors to speak for us in Parliament. We’ll meet again two nights from now and, if we’re all in agreement, Wyatt will ensure we have enough copies of Esther’s designs to distribute before the demonstration. Good evening, ladies.’

  Pleased that Louise had shown some support for the new slogans, Esther stood back as the other members filed from the room, noticing that only Cecilia pointedly ignored the samples and continued, empty-handed, from the room. Shaking her head, Esther resolutely pushed away the infernal self-doubt that stubbornly resurfaced upon a rejection – regardless of the majority support.

  As she gathered the remaining posters and pamphlets, Esther’s mind wandered once more to Lawrence and their abrupt parting. Her misgivings about him were warning enough that any further contact would be a mistake, so why did she keep thinking of him?

  It was because of his interest in the Cause. Because she’d looked into his eyes and saw that he cared what she had to say, what she felt. An understanding she desperately wanted.

  Esther pushed her designs into her leather portfolio, whipping the zip closed.

  Her father’s harsh words had been enough to last a lifetime. Without her mother’s guidance, support and protection, self-reliance was her only defence against a loss that burned like an unhealed wound across her heart. She could not falter. The Cause had been in her life since she was barely ten years old and always would be until women all over the country secured the right to vote.

  ‘Esther?’

  She started and turned.

  Louise stood on the other side of the table, her blue eyes concerned, and her brow furrowed. ‘You know not to take Cecilia too seriously. She’ll be onboard with the designs soon enough.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know.’

  ‘Then why are you so glum? Are you worried about something else we discussed tonight?’

  ‘No, not at all.’ Esther forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was for Louise to think her passion for the Cause wavered. Having Elizabeth doubt her was hard enough. ‘My mind has turned to other things. Nothing to do with the Society.’

  Louise gathered the pens scattered atop the table. ‘Anything I might be able to help you with?’

  Deciding it would do no harm to confide in Louise, Esther exhaled. Louise was a good and trusted friend. One who neither gossiped nor judged. ‘It’s bothering me th
at I was rather rude to a gentleman today.’

  ‘Rude?’ Louise’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I thought he overstepped the mark with his care for me. I was wrong.’

  ‘I see. Then apologise and I’m quite sure the matter will be forgotten.’

  ‘How can I apologise when there’s every chance I’ll never see him again?’

  ‘In that case, the matter is surely settled?’

  Esther sighed, feeling strangely regretful at the notion of not seeing Lawrence Culford again. She would’ve like to have learned more of his thoughts about the Cause, if nothing else. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘Whatever you said to this gentleman, I’m sure it’s forgotten.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Louise sat in one of the chairs at the table. ‘You look so worried. I didn’t mean to make light of the situation. If you really feel you want to apologise, then you should seek him out. Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At the store.’

  ‘At Pennington’s? Then I’m certain he’ll be back sooner or later.’

  Esther’s heart quickened. ‘But what will I say to him? He’s a father, a widower, with no underhand intentions, I’m sure, but he makes me inexplicably uneasy.’

  ‘Well, that is interesting. You’ve never struck me as a woman whose control can be shaken by anyone.’

  Affronted, Esther immediately straightened, her cheeks burning. ‘He doesn’t shake me.’

  Louise smiled knowingly. ‘Are you sure?’

  Words stuck in Esther’s throat.

  Standing, Louise lifted her shoulders. ‘Whenever you happen upon him again, give him your apology and be done with it. After all, this was nothing more than a chance meeting between you… wasn’t it?’