A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  He smiled. ‘I merely wish to improve the end of your day after what was clearly an unwanted visitor.’

  She glanced towards Pennington’s doors, the weight and sadness of her estrangement from her father pressing down on her. ‘My stepmother has no interest in my life other than making sure I don’t grace the family threshold ever again. I’m sure she’ll see fit to leave me alone for a while.’

  ‘Good, then join us for chocolate and to hell with her.’

  The vehemence in his voice sparked the temptation to do as he suggested, elevating the deep-seated rebellion she’d grasped whenever she found herself trapped in a moment of vulnerability. She exhaled a shaky breath. ‘Come and sit with me.’

  Esther led him to a circular seating area in the centre of the atrium, a huge palm tree in the middle. The store hummed with conversation, interspersed with bursts of laughter from the remaining guests who had attended tonight’s event. Every colour and scent filled the space as people slowly descended the grand staircase and strolled through the atrium, temptations in the numerous glass counters stationed throughout the mammoth space catching their eyes.

  She and Lawrence were far from alone, yet, when she met his eyes, it was as though no other person existed. Was this what the beginnings of romance felt like? If it was, what was she to do? Her unwillingness to fully open her heart and risk its complete destruction meant it would be unfair to them both to pursue anything deeper.

  Esther exhaled. ‘There’s something you should know.’

  His steady gaze bored into hers. ‘What?’

  She drew in a shaky breath, slowly released it. ‘I’m starting to like you, very much, but I’ll not risk my heart, or my head, when I have so much important work to do.’

  ‘Esther—’

  ‘When I left home, I thought I’d live an often-solitary life except for the company the Cause brought me.’ Although it was rude to interrupt him, she could not allow him to appease her. ‘Yet, now, I have several male and female associates I both respect and admire. But with you…’ She shook her head, fell into his deep blue gaze, her heart thundering with loss and regret. ‘I fear being with you at some point in the future could mean I’ll be tempted to abandon a little of my independence. I won’t do that. I can’t. If I became involved in your life and my desires were curbed, I would flee. Away from you. Away from Rose and Nathanial. You should not be seeking a woman like me. I’m damaged, Lawrence. You need to stay away from me.’

  ‘Aren’t we all damaged in some way or another?’ Something she couldn’t decipher flickered in his gaze, before his jaw tightened and he shook his head. ‘The Cause is equally important to me. I want to do all I can to contribute to a more balanced world for my children.’

  She stared at him, a whisper of recognition rippling through her when she saw the hope in his eyes. Slumping, she softly smiled. ‘I look at you and see a man who has not only made his way in the world but has loved and lost and still pushes forward. I don’t have that strength. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You think me strong?’ His gaze burned with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. ‘Then work with me, Esther. Let us do something together that will make a difference to you and the Cause. I still want to help you, even if I can’t be with you in a way I think we should explore.’

  The longer she looked at him, the more desire and protection pulled her in a hundred different directions.

  She looked across the atrium at two young lovers arm in arm at the jewellery counter, another couple looking at the wedding display and mannequins. Would marriage ever be possible for a woman determined to make her mark outside of domesticity?

  She faced Lawrence. ‘My father’s treatment of me hurt deeply. It made me see the world as it really is, rather than through the eyes of a young girl looking for love and happiness.’

  He took her hand. ‘You are racing ahead. Let’s just focus on working for the Cause for the time being. Let me show you around my hotel and how we help so many worthy causes. Let me come to a demonstration and meet the women you work with.’ He curled his fingers tighter around hers. ‘Let me in just a little.’

  The softness of his voice poked at her fragile heart. What if he could do good for the Cause and rejecting his help meant she’d only thought of her own suffering rather than the injustice all women suffered?

  She briefly closed her eyes and then opened them again, her shoulders slumping. ‘If I was to come to your hotel, you must promise me you’ll respect my wishes and we concentrate on the Cause rather than us.’

  ‘You’ll come?’ His smile was like a sunbeam lighting his handsome face. ‘When?’

  ‘Promise me, Lawrence.’

  ‘Must I? Can we not just get to know one another without conditions?’ His beautiful eyes gleamed with a happiness she found difficult to resist.

  She shook her head and smiled. ‘You are insufferable.’

  ‘I am and I’m quite happy that’s what you like about me.’ He grinned. ‘When is your next day off?’

  ‘Wednesday. Why?’

  ‘Come to The Phoenix and I’ll ensure my diary is cleared for the afternoon.’

  She stared at him, momentary uncertainty rising once more. No, she should see his hotel. Accept his support and help. She smiled. ‘All right. That would be wonderful.’

  ‘Daddy! Daddy!’

  They both jumped and immediately leapt to their feet as Rose came running through the foyer ahead of Elizabeth.

  ‘Look, Miss Pennington gave me a teddy bear. To keep for ever and ever.’

  Elizabeth glanced at Esther’s hand still in Lawrence’s and Esther quickly snatched it away, keeping her gaze resolutely locked with Elizabeth’s.

  Lawrence bent to pick up his daughter and swung her into his arms and Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Esther, questions burning in her dark green gaze.

  Esther quickly looked to Lawrence and Rose.

  He smiled, his eyes filled with happiness. ‘Right, I think it best I get Rose home to bed.’

  ‘But I’m still not tired, Daddy.’

  They all laughed and a little of Esther’s tension caused by Elizabeth’s relentless scrutiny lessened. ‘Well, I’m most certainly tired so maybe I’ll be in bed before you.’

  Rose giggled, and Esther turned to Lawrence.

  He winked. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Goodnight, Miss Pennington and thank you for Rose’s teddy bear.’

  Elizabeth turned her gentle gaze to Rose. ‘You’re welcome. Goodnight, lovely Rose.’

  ‘Goodnight, Miss Pennington. Thank you for my bear, I’ll love him forever.’

  With a final wave, Lawrence walked towards the doors with Rose in his arms, her head dropped to his shoulder.

  ‘Well, I see you haven’t run away from whatever it is between you and Mr Culford.’ Elizabeth’s smile widened. ‘And before you say anything, I’m glad.’

  Esther sighed. ‘And I’m terrified. But I like him, Elizabeth. I really do.’

  Her friend slipped her arm around Esther’s waist and squeezed. ‘Then enjoy the journey, sweetheart. Life isn’t always happy or easy. Take these moments of joyful uncertainty and let them play out. Life is a mystery until everything seems blatantly clear.’

  Elizabeth walked away, leaving Esther standing alone in the atrium. But what if ‘the clear’ became something a person doesn’t want to see?

  Sixteen

  Two days had passed when Lawrence wandered towards the Abbey, swiping at his lapels and straightening his hat, agitated and grumpy. After being trapped in meeting after meeting at his hotel, the sun’s bright warmth was welcome against his face.

  The newspaper beneath his arm was full of stories covering the life of the soon-to-be crowned King George V. From his service in the Royal Navy, to his seemingly close, united relationship with his wife, to his parenting of their six children, and all manner of other patriotic pomp and ceremony. Across Bath, people were decorating the outside of their homes with paraphernalia, lamps and
bunting being added to Victoria Park’s trees and railings.

  Lawrence’s shoulders relaxed as a trio of children dressed in clothes held together by sewn patches and twine about their waists raced past him, their grubby fingers clasping Union Jack flags and coloured ribbons. Lord only knew where they’d found them, but it warmed his heart to see that even the children and parents with next to nothing were joining in with the building excitement for the event.

  People jostled and nudged him as he strode past the Pump Rooms and came into the courtyard at the side of the Abbey. The noises, shouts and jeers of the crowd rose as he walked across the cobbled stones and deeper into the fray.

  He strained his neck to see over the heads and shoulders of the men and women in front of him. An array of black and white placards glinted in the sun, the women holding them wearing expressions of dogged determination.

  Votes for Women! Support Women’s Suffrage! United We Stand!

  The non-aggressive, unified undertone of the demonstration confirmed this group to be suffragists and Lawrence pushed forwards, elbowing his way through the throng towards the front in the hope that he might, by chance, happen upon Esther. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the women standing on boxes and those around them handing out pamphlets and papers.

  Today was Wednesday and Esther’s day off. Even though they were scheduled to meet that afternoon at The Phoenix, Lawrence would enjoy seeing her campaigning without her knowing. She intrigued and fascinated him beyond measure. To see her working would be wonderful.

  ‘Votes for women!’ they cried, the assembled crowd either cheering or scoffing the women’s appeals.

  He could not see Esther amongst them and, although disappointed, he wouldn’t waste the chance to learn more about her work and passion.

  The women pointedly jutted their chins, ignoring the negative slews tossed like discarded crumbs at their feet, standing tall and proud, their dress both respectable and flattering. These weren’t females looking for favours or pity, only for the chance to be heard and recruit support, and he could not wait to discuss his idea of a fundraising luncheon and auction with Esther later. He’d run the idea past William Moorebrook yesterday and his manager had visibly paled, instantly citing at least five reasons why supporting the suffragists or the suffragettes could have an adverse effect on the hotel. Each reason had been about prosperity, snobbery and elitism. None of which had swayed Lawrence in his decision to help Esther and her associates in any way he could. He was decided and being here now only reconfirmed his conviction. These women were fighting for what was right, not only for themselves, but for girls like Rose, too...

  A man – clearly the worse for drink – lurched towards the women and Lawrence braced to step in. But, far from being deterred, one of the women came forward and gripped his collar. None too gently, she frogmarched the drunkard to the side of the open space, much to the amusement and cheers of the onlookers.

  Lawrence smiled. The suffragists might be non-militant but, clearly, they were far from placid in their endeavours.

  Strong. Determined. Passionate.

  All things he associated with Esther and what he wished to witness in Rose as she grew older.

  Despite the heckling, the women stood united, not caring nor wasting their energy on the pressure and ignorance around them. Forging forward with what they wanted, regardless of the supposed rules and regulations of a good proportion of the nation. They were an example to everyone, including him.

  Lawrence turned and slowly shouldered his way back through the crowd. He’d lacked fortitude and determination in his formative years. Maybe even, at times, during his enforced marriage to Abigail. He hadn’t resisted, but fallen into the marriage pre-ordained by his parents and Abigail’s – Abigail, herself, pleading with him to keep the betrothal that was arranged before either of them had reached adolescence. Not that their union was any fault of Abigail’s. The blame lay heavy on his shoulders, caused by his inability to stand up to his parents.

  These women campaigners, some younger than Lawrence, showed no such weakness.

  He’d been vacillating, whereas he should’ve been strong.

  He’d been afraid, whereas he should’ve been courageous.

  Esther had shifted his mindset. Shifted his heart. Her beauty was astounding, but it was her spirit he was falling in love with.

  He stopped.

  Could love really grip a person that quickly, that suddenly, and be so wholly affecting? Surely, such an instinctive comprehension of a person was impossible? Just because he was physically attracted to her, just because her kiss still lingered in his memory, that did not equate to lasting love.

  Lawrence swiped his hand over his face, gripped his folded newspaper and marched through the crowds with more fervour.

  A familiar figure ahead snagged his attention.

  Charles, Lawrence’s butler and friend, stood in front of a pie seller’s wagon.

  Tipping his hat to the vendor, Charles carried his purchase to a nearby bench. Opening his wrapped package, he quickly sank his teeth into the pie, its steam billowing from the crust.

  Lawrence’s mouth watered as he walked closer, the smell of grease mixing with a delicate perfume as people of every age and class hurried through the centre on market day. He passed a couple of stalls, one selling handkerchiefs and colourful scarves, the other sporting an array of nails, screws, hammers and saws.

  Charles seemed happy to sit amid the chaos and Lawrence was happy to join him. He approached the pie seller. ‘One of your finest pies, please, sir.’

  The vendor pushed up his half-rim glasses, his salt-and-pepper hair pointing in a hundred different directions like a haphazard haystack. ‘Coming right up, sir.’ He took a pie and wrapped it in paper, twirling the ends with a flourish. ‘That will be one fine penny, young man.’

  Lawrence handed over the money, adding an extra penny for the man’s compliment. ‘Thank you gladly, sir.’

  ‘Much obliged to you.’

  Lawrence touched the brim of his hat and walked to the bench. ‘Enjoying the day’s sunshine, Charles?’

  His butler started before his face broke into a sheepish smile. ‘I thought I’d stretch my legs through lunch rather than taking food in the kitchen. Mrs Jackson is on the warpath because yesterday’s delivery was short, and neither myself nor Helen checked it. Even though I don’t necessarily deem the kitchen our responsibility.’

  Lawrence bit into his pie, savouring its rich meat and flavoursome juices. ‘Well, these are such fine pies, I’m sure we’ll cope with lessened rations tonight.’

  They ate in silence for a few moments, each watching the people as they passed by. Lawrence’s eye was drawn to every black and white Pennington’s box or bag that came into view as he wondered what Esther was doing for lunch on such a sunny afternoon. When futile imaginings of a picnic in Victoria Park, the sun glinting on her golden hair and her eyes soft on his came into his mind, he forced his thoughts to the demonstration he’d seen by the Abbey.

  It was right and just that he publicly declared his support for the Cause if he wanted Rose to grow up knowing she could achieve anything she desired. It no longer felt enough to host the occasional fundraiser or be a member of the Men’s League. He wanted to be seen by the people, rally support and appeal to members of Parliament alongside the women campaigners. As much as these women toiled for a breakthrough, there remained an inherent possibility it would only be a man’s voice that would be heard by the government. Until that changed, Lawrence refused to stand by and not do anything.

  ‘Did you see the demonstration by the Abbey, Charles?’ Lawrence lowered his pie. ‘I really feel the Men’s League should be doing something similar. Show our support more publicly than we are now.’

  ‘I agree. I spent several minutes watching the women earlier and the disapproving looks on some on the spectators’ faces – male and female – was downright ridiculous. What is so threatening about women casting a ballot?’

 
‘Exactly.’

  Lawrence watched a flower girl standing at a stall a small distance away, her hair somewhat matted to her small head and her cheeks streaked with grime as she held out a bunch of lavender to a woman dressed almost as grandly as Britain’s new Queen Mary. Unfortunately, this grand lady lifted her nose to the air as though smelling something distasteful and walked on by, proving herself nothing like the Queen at all.

  He smiled when the flower seller poked out her tongue behind the woman’s back.

  ‘Just because a person is born one sex over another, does that mean they shouldn’t have a voice? I think not.’ He took another bite of his pie, his mood sombre.

  ‘Have you discussed your support with Miss Stanbury? She struck me as the type of woman who’d be involved.’

  Surprised that Charles should mention Esther, Lawrence nodded at the realisation his staff had undoubtedly been discussing Esther. After all, she was the first woman since Abigail to play so openly with his children. He suspected the speculation amongst his staff was rife… which he could hardly be annoyed about as his own speculation about Esther was so very frequent and distracting.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Stanbury is deeply involved with the Cause. So involved, in fact, I worry she’ll come to feel she has no alternative than to join the suffragettes and volunteer herself to more militant action.’

  Charles lifted his eyebrows. ‘Surely not.’

  ‘Her passion is palpable, Charles, even if it is under control at the moment. She has a want for free speech that I’m convinced is born from being unable to speak in other areas of her life. She has a fire in her eyes that’s as intriguing as it is sometimes concerning.’ Lawrence’s mind wandered to the evening he’d seen Esther speaking with her stepmother. He would do anything not to see such anger in Esther’s eyes again.

  His butler shook his head. ‘Something has to change. This is nineteen-eleven, not seventeen-eleven.’

  Lawrence put the final crust edge of his pie into his mouth, his mind wandering to more personal concerns. ‘Do you think the children are saddened that they no longer have a mother? I suspect they think about Abigail more than I’ve realised.’