A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  Esther gently took Amelia’s elbow and moved her out of earshot of the nearby customers. ‘That’s the suffragettes as opposed to suffragists. The suffragettes’ actions are born out of frustration. One that I understand but not fully share. At least, not at the moment. There are still plenty of other avenues to explore. The real danger most certainly sits with women too afraid or those who do not care to do anything at all to help us win this battle. I try to keep quiet about my participation while I’m at work, but I’m part of the suffragists society.’ She gently squeezed Amelia’s elbow. ‘I’d love for you to join us. I have made some wonderful friends, as well as learning so much more about the women in our community. Would joining be something you’d consider?’

  Amelia’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. ‘But suffragist or not, aren’t you afraid of the authorities?’

  ‘We’ve had no reason to be.’ Esther inhaled. ‘Of course, that could change if we’re forced to increase the ferocity of our campaigning.’

  Amelia’s gaze turned hopeful, the colour in her cheeks darkening. ‘You really think I could help?’

  ‘Of course. You do fabulous work here at the store. Why not further your skills for the greater good? With your organisational support and optimistic attitude, you’d be a real asset. Our group is low on women of our age and we need to encourage others to join and do everything they can. If women of all ages unite, how can the government continue to ignore such a universal petition? I’ll be working side by side with you every step of the way.’

  Amelia smiled. ‘All right, why not? I’d love to.’

  ‘Marvellous. I’ll give you all the details of tonight’s meeting later.’ She squeezed Amelia’s elbow again. ‘You won’t regret coming along, I promise.’

  With a nod, Amelia walked up the stairs and, smiling, Esther headed for Pennington’s gilded front doors. Walking outside into the day’s bright sunshine, she strode along the pavement until she reached the empty window waiting for her next display. It was the smallest of Pennington’s three windows, but she would still ensure it was as eye-catching as possible.

  Esther scribbled some notes, looking from the window to her clipboard. Studying the window again, she tapped her pencil against her bottom lip. The reflection acted like a mirror and when she saw Lawrence approaching from behind her, her heart stuttered.

  She turned around. ‘Lawrence, this is a surprise.’

  He stepped closer. ‘You looked so engrossed, I was afraid to break your concentration.’ He glanced at the window. ‘What are you considering?’

  ‘What I hope will be a fabulous display of men and women’s clothing. Rose inspired me, actually.’

  His eyes brightened with clear pride. ‘She did?’

  ‘Yes,’ Esther smiled, all too aware of just how difficult it was of late to stop thinking about Lawrence’s children. ‘I’m going to display summer sports. Both for those who play and those who spectate. I don’t think Pennington’s has had a window entirely dedicated to outdoor pursuits before. I hope Miss Pennington will love the idea.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to tell Rose of her contribution.’

  Esther swallowed. He really had the most penetrating way of looking at her. It shouldn’t have been considered anything but polite, but her physical reaction to him, the quickened beat of her heart and the heat low in her stomach, proved the opposite. She quickly looked to her notes, hoping her desire hadn’t shown in her eyes. ‘So, are you here to shop for something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ She met his soft gaze. Then—’

  ‘I’d like to invite you to dinner at my home tomorrow night,’ he said quickly. ‘If you are free, that is.’

  She froze. ‘Your home?’

  ‘Yes, just a chance for us to catch up and discuss what I’ve started moving forward with for the fundraiser.’

  Esther’s heart picked up speed. Was his invitation only about the auction and ball? Or could she dare to imagine his interest in her began to lean towards the personal, too? Her wish that it did was uncomfortably strong. She forced a smile. ‘Well, in that case, how can I say no? What time should I arrive?’

  His blue eyes lit with satisfaction. ‘Shall we say seven?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  His gaze lingered on hers a moment longer and just as Esther thought he might kiss her on the street, right in front of Pennington’s, he comically doffed his hat. ‘Until tomorrow evening, Miss Stanbury.’

  Esther’s heart beat fast, her smile absurdly wide as he marched across the street, the epitome of masculine confidence.

  She sighed. How on earth was she to resist him, should he attempt to kiss her again? Did she even want to?

  Nineteen

  Lawrence pushed his hand through his hair and hastily smoothed it again as he surveyed the food set out on the kitchen table. A small bribe of a meal and the theatre had convinced Mrs Jackson to allow him free use of her domain for the night. He’d waved her, Helen, Charles and the children off at the door half an hour before.

  He glanced at his watch. Esther was due any moment. He’d offered to send her a carriage, which she’d abruptly refused, saying a carriage was an unnecessary extravagance and she’d be more than happy to walk.

  He studied the food again and tried to turn his thoughts away from any danger that might befall Esther as she walked alone through Bath’s streets. When Abigail died, he’d made it his business to have weekly meetings with Mrs Jackson, Charles and Helen just as his wife had. To ensure himself fully aware about the running of the house, the meals they’d eat and the weekly outgoings.

  Upon leaving Culford Manor, he could only afford two rented rooms for him and Abigail in a house run by a kindly and widowed housewife. The woman had adored Abigail and was fond of Lawrence. By the time Rose arrived, he’d saved enough money working in various kitchens as an aid to the chefs, eventually learning to cook well enough himself that he’d started to look beyond the kitchens and imagine owning a hotel of his own one day.

  A small loan from the bank a year later, and he’d purchased a small bed and breakfast when he was just twenty-seven. Wise investment, frugal spending and a whole lot of ambition had meant within five years he had a thriving hotel and enough money for his family and staff to be comfortable for the foreseeable future.

  Hence why The Phoenix, one of the Bath’s most exclusive establishments, was his pride and joy. The hotel was entirely his, bought, kept and paid for without a single penny from his parents

  He stood back and planted his fists on his hips.

  The simple meal of soup, followed by cheese and potato pie and ice cream for dessert should be more than passable. Yet nerves continued to harangue him. He could only pray everything tasted as good as the wholesome smells permeating the kitchen.

  Whipping Charles’ apron from his waist, Lawrence tossed it onto a chair and walked upstairs, along the entrance hall and into the dining room. Narrowing his eyes, he critically assessed the table and room decoration.

  White crockery, rimmed with a delicate rose design, and silver cutlery shone beneath the lit wall sconces and tapered candles on the table. Red napkins perfectly matched the carnations in the centre arrangement and the wine had been decanted.

  Everything looked the best it could be, and he thanked God he’d accepted the privilege of a woman’s touch to the room, courtesy of Helen. Where he’d be without the children’s nanny, he had no idea. In the morning, he would consider increasing his loyal staff’s wages. Helen, Charles and even Mrs Jackson had gone above and beyond their usual duties the moment Abigail had lost her life.

  He fought the memory of her terrible screams during a labour that had gone on for hours. The midwife and then the doctor were called, but still Abigail lost her battle. When the ensuing haemorrhage took her life, the staff who’d loved her were devastated. Lawrence had been thrown into a state of stunned shock. He’d cared for Abigail deeply, even if he hadn’t loved her as a husband should.

  His sad memories w
ere halted by a knock at the front door.

  He momentarily stilled, before rushing downstairs and into the hallway.

  The silhouette of a woman’s hat showed through the glass in the door. The image so still and petite, it could only be Esther who seemed to hold herself in a constant state of unshakeable poise... aside from that one meeting with her stepmother. A meeting that continued to bother him, no matter how hard he tried to put it behind him as Esther had appeared to have done.

  Relief she’d arrived flooded through him, dispelling his anguish, even though she might be angry when she realised his subterfuge of ensuring the staff and children were absent for the night. He would make it clear she was free to leave if she so wished. He just wanted some time alone with her. Just him and her. No staff. No children. No customers or colleagues.

  Taking a deep breath, Lawrence strode to the door and pulled it open.

  Esther flinched as though startled before her face lit with a smile and she huffed a laugh.

  ‘Sorry, I expected your butler or Helen to answer the door. You’re clearly a very modern employer.’

  He smiled. ‘Won’t you come in?’

  She brushed past him into the house, the soft floral scent of her perfume infusing his nostrils. She wore a pale blue dress that brought out hints of sapphire in her hazel eyes, her hat the same shade of blue bore a single white feather.

  She looked beautiful and he wondered, again, if her dress was another she’d salvaged from her previous life in the Cotswolds.

  He closed the door and smoothed the lapels of his dinner jacket. ‘Would you like a drink before we eat?’

  ‘A glass of wine would be nice.’

  He waved her towards the dining room, nerves rolling through him. He needed to tell her they were alone, rather than have her draw the conclusion. If he was immediately honest, she’d then have the choice to leave. He prayed she wouldn’t.

  Once they were in the dining room, Lawrence cleared his throat. ‘I’ve sent the staff out with the children for the evening. I thought it would be nice for us to have some time alone. Is that all right?’

  The skin at her neck shifted as she swallowed, her glorious eyes wide. ‘We’re alone?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But what if someone saw them leave followed by my arrival?’

  He gently touched her hand. ‘Could we not let what others think concern us tonight?’

  She glanced towards the door. ‘Unfortunately, whether rightly or wrongly, a woman’s reputation still remains everyone’s concern.’

  He could hardly argue with the ridiculous, antiquated truth of her words. ‘If I’ve made a mistake, I’m sorry.’

  She glanced towards the open door a second time. ‘Isn’t Mrs Jackson here, at least?’

  ‘No. I prepared this evening’s dinner myself.’

  Her eyebrows lifted as an amused smile pulled at the corners of her pretty lips. ‘You cook?’

  ‘A little. It’s nothing fancy and I’m praying it’s edible, but yes, I cook.’

  Her gaze softened, and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Then you’ve put me in rather a difficult position. How can I leave when you’ve gone to such trouble?’

  Relieved beyond measure, Lawrence smiled. ‘You’ll stay?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyes glinted with teasing. ‘You’re forgiven. This time.’ She walked to the window and stared towards the green beyond. ‘This street is so pretty.’

  ‘It is. When Abigail and I came to Bath, she fell in love with the Circus. She wanted to live and raise our children here. So, I promised her I’d one day earn enough money to buy any house she wanted.’ He exhaled a shaky breath as he walked to the drinks cabinet, finding it easier to talk about Abigail without Esther looking at him so intently. ‘Unfortunately, she died before we could afford to move here, but I kept my promise to her, anyway.’

  The rustle of her dress sounded through the silence and, instinctively, Lawrence sensed she’d sat at the table. It suddenly mattered more than anything that she was comfortable and relaxed in his home. That she was comfortable and relaxed being alone with him.

  Glasses filled, he stoppered the decanter, picked up their glasses and turned.

  She sat at the table, her gaze soft on his. ‘You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m not even sure what to say.’

  ‘Then say nothing. All I want you to do is enjoy this evening.’

  He passed her a glass of wine and then walked to the window, unable to look into her beautiful eyes and stop the words of admiration that danced on his tongue. Dusk was falling and the recreational area opposite the house was bathed in golden light. It was a beautiful evening. He would insist on escorting Esther home later.

  Taking a sip of his wine, he returned to the table and put down his glass. ‘I’ll serve the soup and then we can talk.’ He met her gaze. ‘I’m so glad you came.’

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  ‘I’ve jumped from certainty you would, to absolute conviction you wouldn’t.’ He huffed a laugh. ‘The one thing you manage to do is keep me on my toes.’

  She grinned, her gaze delighted. ‘Then my intention is working.’

  The flirtation in her voice and the happiness in her eyes sent him from the room like a man who’d won the biggest prize at the county fair. He pulled back his shoulders, barely resisting the urge to puff out his chest as he entered the kitchen.

  It had felt good to tell Esther of Abigail’s wish to live in the Circus and that he’d eventually granted it. Albeit, she wasn’t here to see the house, come the end. He hoped it showed Esther he kept his promises. That no matter what the world might throw at him, he found a way through in the end. Hopefully, that would instil confidence in her that he’d be right beside her with the Cause and any other time she might call on him for help.

  Ladling the soup from the pot on the stove into two bowls, Lawrence carefully wiped the edges with a cloth before carrying them into the dining room.

  As he entered, he noticed a slight tremor in Esther’s hand as she lowered her glass to the table. Maybe she wasn’t quite as relaxed as he assumed, after all.

  Uneasy, he forced a smile. ‘Soup is served, madam.’

  Twenty

  Esther laid down her knife and fork, her stomach fit to bursting and her tongue tingling from the rich, delicious taste of Lawrence’s home-made cheese and potato pie. ‘I can’t possibly eat another bite. I am absolutely stuffed.’

  His blue eyes twinkled in the candlelight. ‘I’m glad. You look happy.’

  ‘I am.’ Esther swallowed, wondering again whether his intentions inviting her this evening were entirely about the Cause. Or was it also about them? She warmed with a flicker of hope that it was. ‘I should be angry that you arranged to be alone with me like this, but, in all honesty, I’m so pleased you wish to help me with ideas for the Society that I find myself perfectly relaxed.’

  His gaze lingered on hers and something shifted between them. A subtle non-verbal confirmation that they both knew tonight was not entirely about the Cause.

  How was she to deny how attracted she was to him? How much his words about his wife and what he’d achieved in such a short amount of time to ensure Abigail’s happiness affected Esther’s longing for stability and love.

  She picked up her wine and sipped. Was she playing with fire being here?

  Lowering her glass, she forced her gaze to his. ‘Why don’t you share your thoughts about the fundraiser?’

  The intensity she found so appealing came into his eyes and trepidation for being reckless with him again burned inside her.

  He must think her so young and inexperienced with the ways of flirtation. He was a man of the world. A father. Did he know what he was becoming to her? That he made her feel her father’s betrayal hadn’t entirely destroyed her capability to feel… to love and be loved?

  ‘Well…’ He pushed his plate to the side, picked up his glass and leaned back. ‘Even though we’ve decided to hold the fundraiser afte
r the Coronation, the celebrations will certainly carry on in one form or another for weeks afterwards. What do you think about tying the fundraiser and the monarchy together? Demonstrate a new King and a new beginning. Women being at the forefront of that beginning. Women from all walks of life standing side by side with men at the elections.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea. Such a thing is bound to evoke unity and inspiration. I imagine the Coronation will mark a new start for many people looking for better, brighter futures. It’s ingenious, Lawrence. Truly.’

  ‘But I can’t take credit for it. It was the three chambermaids from the hotel. Anna, Victoria and Ruth have shone with this new opportunity. They have so much more to offer than, to my shame, I realised.’

  She smiled. ‘Then you are learning what Miss Pennington learned a long time ago: there is always untapped talent and ambition in everyone. It’s just a case of giving people the opportunity to show it.’

  ‘Exactly, and all three of them are enjoying planning this fundraiser more than I ever could have imagined. I am more than happy to leave the initial planning to them and then we can come on board after the Coronation to add any changes or tweaks. That way, the ball is rolling, at least.’

  ‘I trust you to implement whatever you think best at this stage. I’m sure these women will be delighted to be left to their own creativity for a few weeks.’

  ‘Something else also occurred to me. Whether we like it or not, it’s the people in the upper echelons of society who have the most influence with the powers that be. These are the people who can get their feet into government offices, speak to Members of Parliament and fund ongoing campaigning. We need as many influential people at the fundraiser as possible.’

  ‘Maybe, but doesn’t it leave a bad taste in your mouth if we have to resort to flattering these people for the regard their positions and wealth might bring us?’

  ‘Not at all, and it mustn’t you, either. The women’s suffrage campaign is a fight. A battle. We must use every piece of armoury. Every tactic. But most of all I want you to use me.’