Esther’s stomach knotted as Lawrence’s handsome, smiling face appeared in her mind. ‘Absolutely.’
Uncertainty coiled in Esther’s stomach. How could she apologise to Lawrence Culford and not risk her disturbing interest in him deepening? If he forgave her, then what? Did she ask him more about himself? His work? His support of the Society?
Abruptly, she walked to the coat stand by the door.
She pulled on her shawl. ‘I’ll see you at the next meeting. You take care and pass on my regards to Wyatt, won’t you?’
‘Of course. See you soon.’
Esther walked from the room, down the stairs and out of the back door into the street.
As she made her way along the alleyway, Esther breathed deeply, faltering in her steps as she reached the embankment running alongside the River Avon. The stench of water and waste infused her nostrils as she stared over the high wall and into the swirling, moonlit water, her loneliness surging through her on an unwanted wave.
For some reason, Lawrence Culford was the first man to well and truly catch her attention. Admittedly, she was very fond of Elizabeth’s new husband, Joseph Carter, whose talent and vision inspired Esther daily at the store, but whatever she felt was unfathomably personal with Lawrence. There was a quiet vulnerability to him despite his big smile and glittering eyes that so appealed to her.
Even the way he constantly reached out to touch his children as though checking they were still beside him had softened her to his assertions. He seemed complex, a contradiction and his face continued to badger her.
She pushed away from the wall and continued a slow walk to her aunt’s house, neither relishing the prospect of another evening playing cards in front of the hearth or closing the front door on another day where Esther felt possible achievement had been missed.
Maybe she should seek out Lawrence’s address in the ledgers at the store? Or would he think her a little insane if she were to arrive unannounced on his doorstep? Yet if she sought him out at his hotel, she’d be disturbing his work time which also felt intrusive. No, a quick visit to his home where less people would have cause to see her was the safer option.
A slow smile curved her lips and her stomach dipped with reckless abandon as she walked a little faster towards her aunt’s house.
Seven
Lawrence contemplated the blooming snapdragon and delphiniums in the borders edging his garden and marvelled at how Helen, his maid-cum-nanny, so willingly volunteered to tend the garden on top of everything else she did for his family. He relied on her so much, it became increasingly more difficult to know how to reward her. He was in awe of her multitude of skills, calmness, humour and care around the children and wasn’t entirely sure how he, or indeed Rose and Nathanial, would cope if she were ever to leave their household.
She was a young woman who deserved a life outside of his needs, but the longer he continued to raise the children alone, the longer he would rely on Helen’s help. It wasn’t right or fair.
Occasionally, Cornelia would come to visit and help out. Never his mother and never Harriet. He would, of course, welcome his youngest sister at any time. As for his mother… he wanted her nowhere near his children, despite his guilt that Rose and Nathanial would never have a relationship with their paternal grandmother. It was a sacrifice Lawrence was prepared to make if it meant his mother’s vindictiveness never tainted the children’s lives as it had his.
As for Abigail’s parents, they spent most of their time travelling the globe. Abigail had been an only child and, after her death, Rose and Nathanial’s grandmama and papa had shown interest in their upbringing for many months… That interest soon waned as time went on and now Lawrence relied on them for nothing. Although he occasionally missed the company of his in-laws, he had no want of people who were not fully committed to Rose and Nathanial. Not that the sentiment alleviated his remorse that the children only had him and the staff as constant figures in their young lives.
He wandered along the narrow stone path that zigzagged from the rear door of the house to the gate at the bottom of the garden.
‘Ah, there you are, sir.’
Lawrence blinked and turned. ‘Yes, Charles. What is it?’
‘You have a lady visitor, sir. Miss Esther Stanbury.’
Surprised, Lawrence stilled. ‘Here? Now?’
‘Yes, sir. She’s in the drawing room.’ Charles looked solemn enough but the amused glint in his eyes would have been visible from the moon. ‘As I couldn’t find you straight away, I didn’t think it proper to leave the lady waiting on the doorstep.’
Startled and unsure what to say or do, Lawrence nodded. ‘Right. I see. I’ll be right there.’
Charles retreated, but Lawrence couldn’t move.
For the love of God, man. Pull yourself together before the woman thinks you are a man of twenty-two rather than thirty-two.
Lawrence pulled back his shoulders and walked towards the open back door of the house. Foreboding whispered through him. Why on earth was Esther here? Nothing but further trouble could have possibly brought her to his home considering the manner they’d parted outside Pennington’s. He had no idea how she’d learned of his address. Surely, anything she had to say to him could have been said in a letter. Unless the conversation held a sensitivity, she did not want to risk others reading.
The first noise to reach him when he walked along the hallway and up the stairs was his children’s laughter. Lawrence halted, his heart missing a beat. They sounded so happy. So relaxed. Their laughter seeped into his soul, making him want to bottle it so he could listen to it over and over again.
Rose screeched, her giggles reverberating from the open drawing room door. Was it Esther making his daughter laugh in such a way? Warmth ran through him at the possibility and his reservations about why she was there abruptly vanished.
Taking a deep breath, Lawrence stepped into the room… and stopped.
Esther sat on the rug in front of the fire along with Helen and the children. The area was strewn with wooden soldiers and horses, a forgotten, half-finished jigsaw puzzle, pencils and paper. Yet, it wasn’t the playthings the children touched and watched, but Esther.
She sat with her shoulders relaxed as Rose stood behind her, playing with the pins in Esther’s hair, securing strand after strand into the most god-awful mess. He shifted his study to Esther and smiled.
She made google-eyes at Nathanial, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth and playfully flinching every time Rose inserted a pin.
His children’s eyes were alight with joy, their smiles wide. Even Helen held her stomach as she shuddered with suppressed laughter.
Reluctant to interrupt the moment but knowing he must, Lawrence stepped into the room. ‘Miss Stanbury. This is a surprise.’
She snapped her head around, her cheeks immediately flushing a deep red. ‘Mr Culford. We… were…’
Helen stood. ‘Having the most marvellous time, are we not, children?’
‘Look, Daddy.’ Rose gently placed her hands on either side of Esther’s head and eased her around so Rose could show off her handiwork. ‘Miss Stanbury let me play with her hair. Doesn’t she look pretty?’
‘Very.’ Lawrence locked his gaze on Esther’s, his body humming with the strength of his undeniable attraction to this woman who had somehow managed to break through his barriers to enchant him… and seemingly his children, too. ‘Do you mind if I have a few minutes alone with Miss Stanbury? I think she’s come to speak with me about something important.’
When Rose’s face dropped in disappointment, Lawrence felt a jolt of guilt even as his daughter dutifully nodded and stood back. Slowly, Esther rose to her feet, her eyes resolutely fixed to her skirt as she smoothed and fussed with it. Helen took the children’s hands and, as she passed him, she slowed and raised her eyebrows, her gaze sparkling with teasing.
Lawrence widened his eyes in warning, even as he struggled to suppress his smile. ‘Could you ask Mrs Jackson for some
tea, please?’
‘Of course.’ Helen grinned, before leading the children from the room and quietly closing the door.
Facing Esther, Lawrence pointed towards the ivory-upholstered settee. ‘Won’t you take a seat? It’s not very often I find my guests sitting on the floor.’
‘Oh.’ Clearly flustered, she quickly stood, her hands fluttering about her skirts. I—’
‘But to hear my children laughing like that, makes me forever grateful to you that you let them play that way.’
She blushed and sat on the settee, glancing at her lap before meeting his eyes once more, her smile unusually shy. ‘I’m not sure who enjoyed our play more. Them or me.’ She lifted her hands to her hair, carefully plucking out Rose’s haphazardly placed pins. ‘I must look a frightful mess. I apologise.’
‘Not at all.’ Lawrence admired her long, blonde hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. He slowly sat beside her, forcing his gaze to the fireplace to stop from frightening her with his study. ‘Was there something you wanted to speak to me about? Only…’ He faced her. ‘I’m not entirely sure why you’re here. Not that I mind in the slightest.’
She pulled her hair to one side before gathering it and twisting it onto the back of her head, then deftly plucked the pins from her mouth and secured it neatly in place. With her hair miraculously close to perfection, she laid her hands in her lap and met his gaze. ‘I’m here because I owe you an apology. The way I spoke to you yesterday has bothered me ever since. You were merely being kind, worrying about my welfare should I join the suffragettes. My defensiveness was unnecessary, and, for that, I apologise.’
Lawrence smiled, somewhat surprised given her previous defiance, but wholly pleasured that her morality led her to offer an apology. ‘You’re forgiven. As I hope you’ll forgive me for even implying you shouldn’t do whatever you feel compelled to do. I had no right to assert myself that way.’
She dropped her shoulders and rose to her feet. ‘Then let us put the matter behind us. It’s nice that we can part in a much better manner this time.’
A jolt of unexpected panic shot through him. ‘You’re leaving?’
‘Well, yes. I—’
‘Please, I’ve ordered tea, which will undoubtedly come with some delicious cake. Trust me, you do not want to miss the chance to sample Mrs Jackson’s baking.’ He stood. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. ‘Besides, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’
‘Oh?’ Her gaze turned cautious as she slowly lowered to the settee, her hands gripping the brim of her burgundy hat so tightly, her knuckles showed white.
Lawrence returned to his seat beside her and drew in a slow breath. There were no two ways about it, Esther Stanbury was a woman with an unfathomable power to pull him backwards, forwards and sideways with a few carefully placed words. A woman who unwittingly hitched his heart whenever he looked into her eyes, so rich a hazel, they shone green one minute and the softest brown and gold the next. Could he really be this attracted to her in such a short space of time?
‘You’re staring, Mr Culford.’
Lawrence blinked, his cheeks warming. ‘Sorry…’
The door opened and Mrs Jackson, his housekeeper and cook, entered carrying a laden tea tray complete with the Victoria sponge he’d been confident would be forthcoming.
‘Ah, thank you, Mrs Jackson.’ Lawrence smiled, grateful for his cook’s interruption after Esther had caught him staring. ‘Might I introduce you to Miss Esther Stanbury? She works as a window dresser at Pennington’s.’
‘How do you do, Miss?’ Mrs Jackson flashed her kindly smile and laid the tray on a low table in front of them, gave a curt nod and quickly left, closing the door behind her.
‘Mrs Jackson is one of the best cooks in Bath, I swear.’ Lawrence shook his head and laughed. ‘Believe me when I say, she likes you already.’
She smiled. ‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘Because she’s worked in this house for as long as I’ve lived here, which will be five years in November. Abigail employed Mrs Jackson almost as soon as we could afford a cook and they became very close. She picks and chooses how to greet my guests and I rely on her instincts absolutely. She smiled at you, which means you have her approval.’
‘I’m glad.’ Her gaze softened. ‘Abigail was your wife?’
‘Yes, she died during childbirth with Nathanial.’
She dipped her head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ Lawrence looked to the tea tray and busied himself stirring the pot. ‘She is missed by all of us. The children most of all.’
‘I’m sure she is. Rose and Nathanial are a true credit to you. I’m sure Abigail looks down on all of you with immense pride.’
Moved by her comments and care, he poured the tea and offered her cup, keen to move the conversation to safer, less personal, territory. ‘So, how did you come by my address?’
Esther took the cup and glanced at him from under her lashes. ‘I looked up your name and address in the toy department ledger.’ She lifted her eyes, her cheeks lightly pinked. ‘It was very forward of me, I know, but I so wanted to apologise.’
‘And I’m glad you did.’ Their eyes met for a moment before she looked towards the window. Lawrence stared at her, suddenly a little nervous about the question urgently dancing on his tongue. ‘Would you consider taking dinner with me, Esther? Can I call you Esther?’
She turned, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘Dinner?’
‘Yes, to further discuss the Cause. There will be nothing improper about you dining with me,’ he said, a little too quickly if only to reassure himself as much as her. A dinner to discuss a mutual interest was his only motivation for his invitation. There was absolutely nothing more to it. ‘I want to assure you of that. And, please, call me Lawrence.’
She softly smiled. ‘Lawrence.’
He swallowed. She’d almost whispered his name and the sound had felt entirely seductive. ‘So, what do you think? Would you take dinner with me?’
She regarded him for a long moment before she inhaled. ‘All right. Why not?’
*
With her heart thundering with astonishment that she’d accepted his invitation of dinner, Esther looked to the marble fireplace. She stared at the vase in the centre of the hearth filled with pink, white and lilac blooms, desperate to change the subject. ‘I can’t help thinking your priorities must be vastly different to mine.’
‘Oh?’
She turned as unwanted loneliness pressed down on her. His home was so warm and inviting. Seemingly full of love. The atmosphere so different to what she’d become accustomed to in recent years with her father and stepmother… maybe even latterly with Aunt Mary. ‘You have a beautiful home, staff and two wonderful children. I have no idea how you manage work and a family.’
‘With difficulty sometimes, I must admit.’ He sipped his tea and leaned back, the cup and saucer in his hand. ‘But with Helen’s help, Charles’ and Mrs Jackson’s, we manage well enough. My work life can sometimes be a different story.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, I try not to work at the weekends, unless it’s absolutely unavoidable, but The Phoenix is a busy and popular hotel. For which I’m grateful, of course, but with success comes responsibility and I employ a lot of people as well as trying to be seen by as many guests as possible. Occasionally, those employees and guests can try a man’s patience.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I’ve been known to lose my temper. Never overly so, but still… it’s not ideal when you’re trying to run a place designed to make people feel relaxed and comfortable.’
Pleased that he would be so open with her, Esther smiled in a bid to encourage his sharing… however misplaced and dangerous her interest. ‘And how do you relax?’
He blinked as though no one had ever asked such a question of him. ‘Well, I…’
‘Play with the children?’ She teased, hoping he realised she was interested rather than judging him in any way. ‘I’m guessing that
’s the best relaxation any father could wish for.’
He lowered his shoulders and laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ The faint sound of the children squabbling filtered through the ceiling, but neither he nor Esther glanced upwards. He raised his eyebrows and laughed. ‘Most of the time.’
Their eyes locked and, just for a moment, Esther could believe they were alone. Entirely alone… and it was unnerving how little the notion scared her.
She blinked and put her cup and saucer on the table. ‘I should go.’
Lawrence immediately followed suit. ‘But you’ve not had any cake.’
‘It’s fine. I really must get home.’ She placed her hat on her head, taking two pins from the moss-green cushion beside her and pushing them into place. ‘Thank you so much for the tea.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She stood and walked to an elegant bureau where she’d laid her purse earlier in order to play with Rose and Nathanial. ‘Where and when would you like to meet for dinner?’
‘How about two nights from now? I’m really very keen to help with the Cause.’
The sincerity in his eyes was clear and Esther nodded, suddenly entirely certain Lawrence Culford’s motives for their dinner were genuine. The fact her own wish to see him again had slightly blurred lines was neither here nor there. ‘And I would very much like that, too.’
‘I’ve previously supported the Cause by speaking with some influential people and offering funding, but I want to do more. I’ve an avid interest in local politics and our environment. You can check into my charitable work or, better still, see the fundraising events and auctions hosted at my hotel. I am not speaking empty words. I firmly believe it is right and just that women are granted the vote.’
‘I’m glad.’
He smiled. ‘Excellent. If you give me your address—’
‘Why don’t I meet you at The Orchard?’ She interrupted, not wanting Lawrence anywhere near Aunt Mary’s house so that she might report his presence back to her father and Viola. ‘Shall we say seven o’clock?’
‘Perfect. I really think you’re going to be quite a challenge for me, you know.’
A Rebel at Pennington’s Page 6
