A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  ‘You’ve given this thought, haven’t you?’

  ‘I have. I didn’t come here without a plan. You can be assured of that.’

  ‘Then I’m incredibly proud of you.’ Lawrence smiled, pleased with his sister’s optimism but still a quiet dread of what her future might hold whispered through him. Whatever happened next for her and his nephews, he would be there for them every step of the way. ‘Would you like me to find you a position at the hotel?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not unless it comes that I can’t find a position myself. If you’re happy for us to be here awhile longer, I’d like to seek something alone for now.’

  ‘Very well, and you can stay as long as you wish. Although, I think it would be good for me to speak with David on your behalf.’ Lawrence frowned as he considered the best way forward as far as his brother-in-law’s deceit and Cornelia’s happiness were concerned. ‘Is there any chance at all you’d want him back? I presume if he came crawling back on his hands and knees, begging for your forgiveness, you might consider giving him a second chance?’

  ‘Presumption is a very dangerous thing, Lawrence.’ Cornelia said, her gaze averted. ‘David and I are over. I’ll never want him back regardless of him begging or anything else.’

  Although pleased by Cornelia’s standing, the potential effects any public condemnation or stigma about divorce could have on his once happy sister worried him. ‘Your marriage might have been arranged by Mother, but I’ve witnessed real warmth between you and David over the years. Has his affair really destroyed everything you ever felt for him?’

  Irritation darkened her blue eyes. ‘Are you saying you think I should take him back, should he ask?’

  The mere thought of David wrangling his way back into Cornelia’s life irked Lawrence more than he dared to admit. He was entirely incensed by David’s treatment of his sister and nephews and he needed Cornelia to believe that. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then why do I feel you’re questioning my decision?’

  ‘I’m just concerned for you and the children, should any gossip surround your divorce. That doesn’t mean I think you’re not strong enough to deal with it.’

  ‘Good. Because I am, and I will. I learned to live with David’s infidelity a long time ago. It’s because he walked away from the children so easily that I have no wish to see him again. Perhaps there was some warmth between us for a time, but, as for passion, there was none. I’m not sure there ever was. Why would I want to continue the way we were now he’s clearly shown to whom his loyalty and love resides? If you or I pressure David to return home and he concedes, he’ll not come back out of love or care for me or the boys, he’ll come out of duty. Or guilt. Why would I want him back knowing that? I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine in time. Mama is a bigger concern right now.’

  Lawrence stared. Whatever she said, a deep pain burned in Cornelia’s eyes and he didn’t doubt her suffering was more about David than care for their mother. His sisters might have had a fractionally better relationship with their parents than he’d had, but he could hardly claim Cornelia, or even Harriet, who had practically grown into his mother, adored them. He leaned back. ‘What’s wrong with Mother?’

  ‘You really should know, Lawrence. It wouldn’t hurt for you to at least write or telephone her every now and then, even if you can’t bring yourself to see her. Time has passed, Father’s gone and now Mama is ill. It’s time to bury the past.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to say to her.’ Lawrence looked about the restaurant, tightness gripping his chest. ‘There’s too much anger and hostility.’ He looked at her. ‘On both sides.’

  ‘Then you must find a way to lessen it.’ Cornelia’s shoulders slumped, her pretty eyes pleading with him. ‘The doctor has said it’s a complication with her lungs. He’s not entirely certain but fears it may be terminal. You must come home. Even if it’s just for a short while. It’s not fair for either of us to leave Harriet to manage Mama alone.’

  Coldness inched into his blood. He had no idea what he felt or thought about his mother’s suffering. It had been three years since he’d returned to Culford and stood beside his mother at his father’s funeral. The thought of stepping inside the Manor again brought the bitter taste of nausea to his throat. ‘Let me think about it. Mother has not sought to speak with me at all these past years and, as far I know, hasn’t been concerned by our lack of contact.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to see you now. She could be dying, Lawrence.’

  Pressure bore down on him. How could he leave his sisters to deal with their mother alone? ‘I can’t think about this now. You need to give me some time.’

  Her eyes clouded with concern before she nodded. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Thank you. But what about you? You said David has been carrying on behind your back for a number of years. How many specifically?’ Fury swirled inside of him. He’d thought he could trust his brother-in-law to look after his sister and nephews. A man Lawrence had happily watched stand by Cornelia on their wedding day, the boys’ christenings… ‘Cornelia?’

  She looked at the children and swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, leaving a faint smudge on her linen gloves. ‘Three years. Possibly four.’ She turned. ‘He loves her, Lawrence. There’s not an awful lot I can do about that.’

  ‘Bastard.’ He spat the word from between clenched teeth as he grappled not to get out of his chair and leap into a carriage to hunt David down. ‘It’s senseless for me to ask how you are, but how are you managing? Why didn’t you contact me? I would’ve been there for you in a shot. You know that. Does Mother know?’

  Cornelia shook her head. ‘I can’t tell her. Not yet. You know how she’ll react and I need to be stronger than I am right now to face her criticism and blame.’ She briefly closed her eyes and, when she opened them, another tear rolled over her cheek. She glanced at the boys and quickly wiped it away. ‘I’ll be back on my feet in no time. It will take more than David’s betrayal and desertion to break me.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘David married as you did, Lawrence. On his mother’s orders. Unfortunately for me, I fell in love with David, but those feelings were never reciprocated. No matter how good a wife I tried to be, how much I cared for him and the children, it was never enough.’ She looked at her sons. ‘Boys, come and sit down. Your tea will be here shortly.’

  As Cornelia busied herself moving cutlery and condiments, Lawrence studied her. She needed him more than she had in months. He would track David down and when he found him… there would be hell to pay. As for seeing his mother? That was a different matter entirely.

  Twenty-Five

  Esther pushed her key into the lock of her aunt’s house and stopped, her fingers tightly clutching the brass. She closed her eyes and mustered the strength to get through another night filled with disappointed glances and disparaging words. Despite Elizabeth’s coaxing for Esther to call on Lawrence, the day had been frantic when a little boy got loose of his mother and decided it would be fun to rearrange as many mannequins’ hats and jewellery as possible before one of the security watchmen scooped him up.

  Kicking and screaming, the boy had been carried throughout the atrium until a member of staff finally located his mother, only for her to promptly lay the blame on Pennington’s. Esther had quite happily taken her to Joseph’s office. The man was famed for his charm and charisma… even in the most ridiculous of situations.

  After having to go around the store and undo the mess the young boy had made, Esther was dead on her feet. But she would do her utmost to see Lawrence tomorrow. Elizabeth was right. It was up to Esther to forge the life she wanted. Not bury her feelings and not run away.

  She inhaled a long breath and pushed open the door. She walked into the hallway and removed her hat, placing it on a small side table before unbuttoning her coat. ‘I’m home, Aunt Mary. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘If I wanted tea, I would’ve made it myself. Why on earth are you home so late?’


  Rolling her eyes, Esther counted to ten as she took the same number of steps towards the parlour. She stepped into the room and met her aunt’s steely gaze from where she sat in front of the fireplace, her knitting on her lap.

  Esther sighed. ‘I’m really busy organising things for the Coronation display. I’ll most likely be home later than usual every night for the remainder of the week, I’m afraid.’

  ‘And what do you suggest I do as I sit here alone night after night?’ She picked up her knitting, her brow furrowed as she studied the stitches. ‘You know full well Veronica leaves the house at six o’clock every evening, regardless if I need her to stay.’

  Convinced her aunt’s maid left on time every evening in desperation to be away from her employer, Esther held every sympathy for the girl. ‘I’m sure she has plans most evenings and you were out with Viola for the last two. Why don’t you arrange a dinner with Win next door? I’m sure she’d welcome an evening out.’

  ‘I don’t want to see Winifred Roberts any more than I already do, thank you very much.’

  Biting back a retort that she was sure their next-door neighbour tolerated her aunt in much the same way, Esther forced a smile. ‘Well, anyway, it is only seven o’clock. Why don’t we play some cards? I’ll just make myself a quick sandwich and then we can play until you’re tired.’

  ‘I haven’t got time to play cards. I need to get this blanket done so I can take it to the Salvation Army tomorrow. I’ve knitted a total of seven in the last two weeks. That will put Dorothea firmly in her place. Lord only knows who she thought she impressed by knitting three in one week. I suspect the woman has blisters on her silly fingers.’

  Esther left the room and walked along the hallway into the kitchen. Although she should be used to her aunt’s abrasiveness by now, coming home to it every night took its toll. The house had never felt so claustrophobic. She looked at the bare brick walls, the black Aga and yellowing net curtain hanging at the window. The only dash of colour and brightness came from the copper pans hooked above the fireplace and the tea towels drying on the cupboards’ steel handles. Sometimes, the only places she could breathe were at Pennington’s or with her Society associates. Yet, tonight, it was more than Aunt Mary’s curt words and poor attitude that riled Esther. She should’ve gone to the Circus and knocked on Lawrence’s door.

  Fear he might one day break her heart if she were to fall in love with him was what made her flee from his home that fateful, sensual night they’d been alone. Yet, she hadn’t felt beautiful or worthy since.

  She walked into the larder and extracted butter and cheese before closing the door and wandering to the table. She took a knife from one of the drawers beneath the tabletop.

  ‘Esther?’

  She hovered the knife above the block of cheese as her aunt’s voice filtered along the hallway. ‘Yes, Aunt?’

  ‘Don’t leave any mess in there. I specifically told Veronica I wanted it spotless. Time and again, the pair of you treat my home as a vagrant would a park bench.’

  Tightening her grip on the knife, Esther gritted her teeth. ‘Yes, Aunt.’

  ‘And you might as well make me that cup of tea while you’re there.’

  Esther counted to ten for the second time since she’d been home. ‘Yes, Aunt.’

  Waiting a beat to see if any more instructions were forthcoming, Esther only released her held breath once she was certain her aunt was spent. Putting down the knife, she took the kettle from the stove and filled it at the sink before staring into the small back garden.

  How was she truly to gain independence when her savings were still low enough that she couldn’t possibly leave her aunt and live somewhere halfway decent? The liberty she aspired to seemed forever locked away, as though only an unknown formula could free it. There had to be a way for her to break away from constraint and make her mark in the world.

  Surely if she concentrated on her work at Pennington’s and the Society, her liberty would come? Nowhere else had given her as much satisfaction. Until Lawrence. Her mind wandered to his idea of an auction and ball at his hotel. His eyes had gleamed with possibility as he’d proposed his ideas. She had been wrong to shut him down – shut him out – so conclusively.

  She had to seek him out and apologise. Even ask him to the demonstration the following day if that would encourage his forgiveness. He’d already asked her if he could attend one of their rallies, after all. Fingers crossed, his desire to support her wouldn’t have been quashed entirely. With the upcoming Coronation, it was really the last chance the Society had to make another public stand before the streets were inundated with royal well-wishers.

  Esther returned the kettle to the stove and lit the flame, before walking back to the table. She finished making her sandwich, put everything back neatly in the larder and wiped down the table. With thoughts of Lawrence tumbling through her mind, she mechanically pulled the teapot from a shelf, along with cups and saucers, and spooned leaves into the pot. She laid everything on a tray, adding a small jug of milk, sugar and teaspoons.

  No matter how much she tried to deny it, she’d experienced infinite freedom every moment she’d been with Lawrence. Every moment she’d spent with his children. They made her feel so very unequivocally free and happy and, for the first time in her life, she sought the company of a man… a lover. Could this be the first step towards trusting a man again?

  Everything about Lawrence spoke of kindness and care. He was a true gentleman. It had been her who’d taken the lead with their physical intimacy, but he had taken a far braver leap into emotional intimacy by sharing his like of her, even if he hadn’t quite managed to tell her what so profoundly bothered him.

  Walking to the stove, Esther took the boiling kettle from the heat and poured water into the teapot before adding it to the tray alongside her plated sandwich. Hefting the heavy tray from the table, Esther left the kitchen and walked along the hallway into the parlour. ‘Tea is served.’

  Her aunt stood and picked up her knitting basket. ‘No, thank you. I think I’ll go upstairs to read. Goodnight.’

  Esther opened her mouth and then snapped it closed again. There was little point in starting an altercation.

  Her aunt stopped. ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ She delved into the pocket of her dress and extracted an envelope. ‘This was delivered to you by a young man claiming to work at Pennington’s. I’ve no idea why he should deliver a note for you at home when you work there. Senseless.’

  ‘That is strange.’ Esther took the letter and opened it.

  Dearest Esther,

  I hoped to find you at the store, but, alas, I did not and can only assume you were busy—

  ‘Well? What is it?’ Her aunt’s steely gaze burned with curiosity. ‘Is it something so important it couldn’t wait until morning?’

  Esther fought to suppress her smile. ‘It is.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Miss Pennington would like me to pick something up for her on my way to the store on Monday.’

  ‘Then you are little more than her lackey. Window designer, indeed. Thoughts above your station. Just as your stepmother often implies.’

  Esther glared at her aunt’s retreating back as she left the room, but even she couldn’t dampen Esther’s spirit. Once alone, she sat on the settee and quickly unfolded the letter again, happiness kicking at her heart.

  Therefore, rather than have someone interrupt you, I am writing you this note in the hope it reaches you this evening. I long to see you. Have longed to make contact but have refrained in anticipation that you might come to me. As you have not, and I now have my sister and her children visiting awhile, would you possibly consider having lunch with me at my hotel tomorrow? I really would like to pursue my ideas in support of the Cause, regardless of any personal relationship that might, or might not, develop between us.

  If you find such an invitation tempting, I will wait for you in the restaurant at one o’clock.

  Sincere wishes,

>   Lawrence

  Esther pressed the letter to her chest, her heart racing. He had his family staying with him. Would that change things between them? What might his sister think of Lawrence spending time with a working woman, unchaperoned?

  Oh, what did it matter? She smiled. Tomorrow, she would see Lawrence again and her heart positively sang with joy. The living room had never seemed so alive, or its decor and atmosphere so bright. As it was Sunday tomorrow, she didn’t have to work. Was it too much to hope that lunch would turn into an entire afternoon together? A thrill rippled through her at the thought of Lawrence’s lips against hers, his hands on her body as they’d been before.

  As Elizabeth had so passionately insisted, a person had to fight for their wishes. Resist and power through fears and constraints. Esther liked Lawrence, could possibly one day love him. That shouldn’t be frightening, it should be empowering.

  Twenty-Six

  Lawrence glanced at his watch as he sat in The Phoenix restaurant, his foot incessantly tapping the stone floor tiles. What if Esther had not received his note? Or she had, and felt such disdain at his invitation, she’d shredded his words into pieces? He’d not received a returned acceptance or any other message and now sat alone avoiding the curious stares of his staff.

  She would come. He was sure of it. Their connection was too instant, too intense for either of them to ignore. He had to believe she would have been pleased by his letter.

  A young staff member caught his eye, her gaze concerned as she cleared the table beside him. Lawrence immediately smiled and purposefully relaxed back into his seat. She hesitantly returned his smile, although the line at her brow remained.

  ‘How are you this morning, Freda?’ Lawrence asked. ‘Everything as it should be?’