A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  How was he to be everything Rose and Nathanial needed when such bitter, hateful thoughts about his childhood and parents marred his mind and blackened his soul? Would he ever fully breathe while his mother was still living with Harriet and continually dripping venom into his sister’s ear?

  He had fantastic neighbours, glorious friends, two beautiful children and more money than he could ever need – his money. Not Culford money, but money earned through his arduous work, investment savvy and a burning need to get away from a mother and father he resented to the very soles of his feet.

  Although lonely and desperate for something… someone… to show him real love was possible, Lawrence was scared to fall in love, find comfort in a lover’s arms. What if his masquerade were to slip, and that woman learned of his weakness and cowardly obedience as a child… as a young man?

  Yet something had to change before he fell so far into his discontented abyss that he lost all hope of ever climbing out again. If he were to ever stop believing himself a better man than his parents’ cruelty had made him, he would give up and lose everything. He had to find a way to destroy that man. Pulverise him. For his sake, but most importantly, for his children’s sake.

  Sickness churned deep in his stomach.

  He’d gone on to marry a woman of his parents’ choosing. A woman he didn’t love, yet sired children with her so they both might find a modicum of happiness in the eyes and comfort of their babies. A man who’d kept his promise of marriage yet ensured the shame of who he’d once been remained hidden. Its reality continued to twist in his blood, making him burn with rage and frustration behind his closed bedroom door.

  His only course was to live his life for Rose and Nathanial. Maybe an inauthentic life in some ways, but one where his children only knew their father to be happy, smiling and playing. But how could he deny his children the potential to be loved and nurtured by a female touch he could never give them?

  At the sound of footsteps, Lawrence turned. Nodding at Charles, his butler and confidante of the last six years, Lawrence’s bogus smile slipped easily into place. ‘Ah, you come bearing refreshments. Good man. Rose? Nathanial? Come and have a drink.’

  Rose threw the ball to one of the neighbours’ children and raced towards Lawrence, Nathanial doing his best to keep up with her on his short, four-year-old legs. They each took a glass of milk and biscuit from Charles’ tray, his butler pulling his face into an almost impossible expression that sent the children into fits of giggles.

  Lawrence grinned. ‘Go and take your treats to the bench under the tree. You look hot and bothered.’

  The children walked away slowly, carefully balancing their drinks and biscuits as Lawrence took a glass of lemonade from the tray.

  ‘They’re enjoying themselves, I think. It’s nice to see so many of us out here using the green. It felt like a very long winter.’

  A young woman walked past them, hand in hand with a toddling boy, and glanced at Lawrence from beneath lowered lashes.

  Esther Stanbury immediately leapt into Lawrence’s mind. She was the antithesis of the woman who smiled at him so shyly, yet Esther continued to poke and prod at his memory.

  He looked at Charles. ‘I met someone yesterday. A woman.’

  ‘Oh?’ His butler’s grey eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows almost brushing the edges of his black hair. ‘And?’

  ‘And she intrigued me.’ Lawrence admitted, adding a shrug in the hope the gesture might deflect the depth of his interest considering how often Esther Stanbury had entered his thoughts in the last twenty-four hours. ‘I should’ve been infuriated by her, but I’m man enough to admit it’s not infuriation I’m feeling whenever I think about her.’

  ‘Then what are you feeling?’

  He took a deep breath, surprised and confused by his sudden need to share his meeting Esther with Charles. Although Lawrence encouraged a much more personal relationship between himself and his staff than his parents would ever have considered, his candour did not bode well for maintaining his carefully tended control. ‘Nervous.’

  Charles raised his eyebrows. ‘Nervous? I’m surprised by that. You have never struck me as nervous about any situation.’

  ‘And far too curious.’

  ‘I see.’ Charles looked across at the children. ‘And what did this woman do that should have infuriated you?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say. Her whole demeanour was of a nature I’ve not come across before. Not even with the suffragists. It’s as though Miss Stanbury is willing to fight for what she believes is right, even if she has to stand alone. She’s… quite remarkable.’

  Charles smiled and pulled back his wide shoulders. ‘Well, that is interesting. Will you be seeing her again?’

  Lawrence sighed, indecision warring with sanity inside him. ‘To do so would undoubtedly be foolish…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I can’t help thinking I’d come to enjoy her company. In a friendship way, of course. Romance is the furthest thing from my mind,’ he insisted.

  ‘Of course.’ Charles laid the tray on the grass and crossed his arms, his gaze on their neighbours as they walked or ran across the grass. ‘But there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with this young woman?’

  ‘On the contrary.’ Lawrence flashed a genuine smile. ‘She’s beautiful. Clearly intelligent, if not a little too opinionated. Passionate, most definitely fond of children and, for some reason I’m yet to identify, has well and truly captured my attention.’

  ‘May I ask the lady’s name?’

  ‘Esther. Esther Stanbury.’ Lawrence frowned. He’d actually savoured her name on his tongue and he didn’t doubt she’d taste as softly sweet as the lingering scent of her perfume which incessantly clung to his nostrils. Where on earth were such thoughts coming from? ‘She’s a working woman. A woman my mother would undoubtedly disapprove of.’

  ‘I think your mother’s approval, one way or another, no longer matters to you, so why not ask this lady to dinner? She can only refuse, and then you’ll know for certain if your meeting with her was nothing more than an encounter that momentarily threw you off balance.’ Charles raised his eyebrows again. ‘Because that is how you’re feeling, isn’t it?’

  ‘Off balance.’ Lawrence nodded, ridiculously grateful his butler had named the absurdity currently threatening his self-preservation. ‘Indeed.’

  Rose and Nathanial approached them, wearing matching milk moustaches complete with biscuit crumb sprinkles. Lawrence stepped forward, his momentary lapse in attention to them quashed. They mattered more than anything. His children had to come first. His own wants – his own desires – could not overshadow what mattered most: his children’s happiness and raising them in a loving and secure environment.

  The strange and inexplicable urge to get to know Esther Stanbury was of no consequence. She wasn’t the right woman for him to pursue, even if such a miracle were to ever arise. How would such an independent woman with views and strong opinions, however just and right, ever be happy staying at home and helping raise another woman’s children?

  Because that was the kind of spouse he should want for Rose and Nathanial. Only a woman who wanted to be with them would suffice. His children deserved that singular commitment and unfailing devotion. They needed to know they were loved above all else.

  He had to be careful. Had to maintain his willpower. To make a mistake could affect Rose and Nathanial in ways from which they may never recover.

  An arranged marriage, even a marriage of convenience, would eventually fail and he would not re-expose his children to the heartache he’d slowly managed to pull them out of when they’d lost Abigail. A truly loving and obedient woman who’d been nothing more to his parents than another person in their plans to continue their self-made lineage and increase the family wealth.

  His chest tightened as isolation gripped him and Lawrence quickly swiped his hand over his face, the scuff of his jaw rasping against his palm.

  Forcing a smile
, he wiggled his eyebrows at the children as he passed his empty glass to Charles. ‘Right, who’s ready for our next innings?’

  They squealed and laughed as Lawrence gave an almighty roar and grappled them into his arms. He ran across the grass bouncing and jolting the most precious gifts Abigail could ever have given him in her too-short life.

  Five

  Esther clutched her wooden clipboard to her chest and squinted against the sunshine glinting off one of Pennington’s display windows, silently admonishing herself for not coming up to her usual standard with the Coronation display plans. Elizabeth was right; Esther’s mind wasn’t on her work as it should be. Worse, the effects could have been made public.

  She had to pull something out of the bag that would not merely impress Elizabeth but astound her. Anything less presented the risk of Esther missing out on the opportunity to lead the arrangement of the Coronation window. She could not allow that to happen. Her position at Pennington’s was the basis of her independence, her income and source of her growing self-esteem. Her work had become essential to her drive and confidence to push forwards, take risks and maintain complete ownership of her life as her beloved mother had encouraged her to do.

  She watched Amelia Wakefield as she worked behind the glass, carrying out Esther’s instructions to rearrange the ornaments and merchandise atop an oak dresser. At twenty-two, the girl was barely three years younger than Esther, but Amelia held no less conviction to advance her position at the store.

  Although lucky to have such a vibrant woman on her team, Amelia also served as a reminder there would always be another woman, another person, wanting as much from life as Esther wanted. She was also mindful her work for the Cause made it important that she encouraged other women as much as she did herself to do more and be more.

  If she faltered in her new way of thinking, the long-reaching fingers of self-doubt she suffered when she’d started living with her aunt would creep back in and crush every ounce of the confidence she’d so painstakingly erected.

  Esther crossed her arms tightly as her thoughts filled with her stepmother, Viola. A woman so completely different to Esther’s mother that her very presence was an insult to Katherine Stanbury’s memory.

  As much of a social climber as Esther’s Aunt Mary, Viola had done nothing short of pursue Esther’s father, entrapping and enchanting him until he believed this was the type of woman – so different to his first wife and daughter – he wanted to look after him in his advancing years. A woman who held more importance in her looks, clothes and social circle than interest in women’s rights or liberation.

  In just three short years, Viola had borne Esther’s father two strapping sons in quick succession and convinced him that Esther’s similarities to her mother and her drive for women’s suffrage was the cause of his despair. All too soon, with Viola’s bidding, Esther’s father had presented his daughter with an ultimatum if she was to stay under his roof: give up the Cause or move in with his sister in Bath.

  Esther had chosen the latter… even if it pained her to leave her darling little half-brothers, Peter and Benedict. Of course, moving in with her aunt had presented new demands. Including Aunt Mary asking questions about Esther’s future intentions and other things she had no wish to explain or share.

  When tears threatened, Esther quickly swiped at her eyes. None of her pain and loss mattered any more. At least, not when Viola continued to make her presence known by constantly coming to Bath and staying in the best hotels on the pretence of visiting Aunt Mary while avoiding Esther, at all costs. As long as Aunt Mary fed Viola information about Esther’s life that her stepmother could digest, rewrite and report back to her father, the venomous woman was happy. To say it was easy living with Aunt Mary would be a complete mistruth, but her living situation now was still preferable to putting up with Viola and her father’s constant disapproval.

  A knock on the store window startled Esther from her preoccupation. Amelia smiled and stood back from the dresser, swiping a lock of brown hair from her brow before stretching her hand over the scene, asking for Esther’s approval. Forcing her concentration to work, Esther smiled and gave a curt nod, indicating her endorsement to the changes before pointing to a mahogany dining table and chairs to the side of the window. Her colleague immediately set about pulling out the chairs and shifting one end of the table so that it stood at a better angle, allowing passers-by to view the elegant porcelain dinner set, silver candelabra, pink tapered candles and matching napkins that decorated the table’s surface.

  Satisfied, Esther jotted a few notes onto the paper attached to her clipboard before lifting her pencil and tapping it against her teeth. The parlour design still needed more. She wanted it to reflect the new lifestyle changes happening all over the country. Scribbling a rough outline of the new cribs and baby blankets that had arrived in store the day before, Esther was convinced she could combine homeware with infant merchandise. Two departments receiving a much-needed boost could be merged into one.

  Waving to Amelia and two other members of her team, Esther indicated she was gratified and they could return to the basement department. She wandered along the front of the mammoth store until she came to its largest window. Narrowing her eyes, she considered its size and possibility, before flipping over several sheets on her clipboard to the sketches and notes she’d made at home the previous evening.

  It wasn’t so much the content she’d decided on for the Coronation window that caused a niggling dissatisfaction, but the colours. More gold and scarlet were needed. More navy and white to make the window shine with the pomp and pageantry of the occasion. The soon-to-be King-Emperor was handsome, regal and devoted to his wife. A naval man with rigid shoulders and lifted chin. A man not to be ignored.

  Power. Prestige.

  Excitement churned deep in Esther’s stomach as familiar innovation and creativity swept through her pencil and onto the page.

  And what of his queen, the beautiful but austere Mary of Teck?

  A popular princess who would undoubtedly be an equally popular queen. An attentive mother to her children and patron to the London Needlework Guild, Queen Mary liked embroidery and constantly accompanied her husband on royal duties. Important values the British public admired and enjoyed of their leading family.

  Esther smiled. Patronage. Loyalty. Love and devotion. Things that could easily be added to Pennington’s Coronation display in one form or another.

  A sudden and strange sense of someone watching her clouded Esther’s concentration and she slowly turned.

  Her heart skipped a beat as Lawrence Culford crossed the street towards her, his gaze on hers, seemingly oblivious to the passing horse and carriage that separated them for a brief second. He was alone. No children to act as a barrier or distraction should he look at her for too long with his deep blue eyes.

  Eyes that were maddeningly memorable.

  She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. What was he doing here? Was it coincidence? Pennington’s was at the very heart of Bath’s premier shopping street, after all.

  Or could he be looking for her? The sentiment sent a shiver through her which she wasn’t certain derived from pleasure or alarm.

  Turning to the window, she quickly feigned intense interest in her notes, hating the slight tremor in her pencil.

  ‘Miss Stanbury?’

  She briefly closed her eyes against the warming effect of his deep, rich voice before turning, her smile in place. This man should not have such control of her faculties.

  She turned. ‘Mr Culford. No children today?’

  ‘Alas, Nathanial is taking a trip to the park with his nanny, and Rose is at school.’

  ‘So, you find yourself in town. Might I ask, for business or pleasure?’

  ‘Business. I’m a hotelier.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘You know?’

  Heat pinched her cheeks for so willingly admitting she’d learned more about him than he’d previously off
ered. ‘Yes, Elizabeth… Miss Pennington knew of you when she saw you the other day.’

  He drew his gaze over her hair and face. ‘I see.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll leave you to carry on. I’m sure you’re just as busy as I am.’

  But Mr Culford continued unperturbed. ‘You’ll be pleased to know we spent the entire weekend playing cricket. Rose will be forever grateful to you for your insistence I purchase the set for her.’

  A traitorous smile pulled at her lips. His eyes shone with fondness for his daughter, which she found incredibly sweet. ‘I’m glad she’s enjoying it. You’re clearly a very loving father.’

  ‘Loving and manipulated.’ He laughed. ‘But I don’t mind as long as they’re happy and appreciate the blessings they have. Many children have to make do with a rubber ball and a plank of wood. I ensure Rose and Nathanial know the way most of the children in this city are forced to live.’

  Esther relaxed her shoulders, warming to him. ‘I’m glad. I imagine it’s hard to teach children who have a loving home, food on the table and games to play with that there is an entirely different world not far from their door.’

  ‘Did you grow up in the city?’ he asked.

  A little taken aback that he’d so quickly moved to the personal, Esther hesitated but conceded answering his question could do no harm. ‘No. I grew up in the Cotswolds but moved here about two years ago.’

  ‘Then that’s another thing we have in common.’

  She frowned. ‘Another? I wasn’t aware there was a first.’

  His eyes gleamed with that infernal spark of amusement. ‘But, of course.’

  Pulling back her shoulders, Esther regarded him with suspicion. ‘Which is?’

  ‘The Cause, of course.’

  She exhaled. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. You never told me your role in the fight. Are you a campaigner?’

  ‘More of a supporter. I help as and when I can.’

  ‘I see.’ Although a little disappointed he didn’t play a more active role, Esther nodded, pleased he was at least on the women’s side. ‘Well, we could most definitely use more men behind us.’ She glanced towards Pennington’s doors, unusually perturbed that she was at work and couldn’t continue their conversation further. ‘I’m afraid I really must get back to work, Mr Culford.’ She stepped back. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’