A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  ‘Yes, I think I might well be.’ She flashed him a smile, her stomach knotting with the hint of flirtation in his voice. She slowly walked to the door and pulled it open. ‘I’ll see myself out. Goodbye for now.’

  ‘Goodbye, Esther.’

  She closed the drawing room door and released a slow breath, thankful that the corridor was empty. She walked downstairs, casting a single disappointed glance upwards when she reached the bottom. She would have so liked to have said goodbye to the children. It wasn’t until she was outside, along the short pathway of the house and safely around the corner that she could fully breathe again.

  Eight

  Lawrence leaned back from his desk and steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he stared at The Phoenix’s manager, William Moorebrook. ‘And has the band who decided to hold a party in one of their rooms last night been dealt with?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Their singer, who I gather is in charge of the band, has agreed that the damages to the curtains and the bed coverings will be paid for upon their departure tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. We cannot have that kind of thing going on in the hotel, William. I want to know immediately if there is any further confrontation when they check out.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Lawrence pulled himself forward and reached for some papers beside him. ‘If there’s nothing else, I need to get on—’

  ‘Well, there is one more thing.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lawrence leaned back again. ‘Go on.’

  William cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward.

  Lawrence frowned. ‘William?’

  His manager coughed. ‘It’s been brought to my attention by Mrs Lewis that several of the chambermaids have been frequenting The Cavendish Club for several weeks now, sir.’

  ‘The head of Housekeeping told you this?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The Cavendish club was well-known throughout Bath as a place of abundant drink, frivolity and new, slightly outrageous bands, not unlike the motley crew who’d taken advantage of The Phoenix’s hospitality. That said, it didn’t matter to Lawrence where his staff chose to spend their free time, and nor should it concern Mrs Lewis or William. ‘And why should that concern me?’

  ‘It seems three women in your employment were rather inebriated the other night and caused such a ruckus, they were ejected from the premises.’

  ‘Ejected?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Apparently, one of them had fallen onto a group of wealthy bankers, soaking one or two of them with her spilled glass of alcohol and, instead of apologising, the chambermaid retaliated with verbal abuse.’

  ‘I see.’ Now that sort of behaviour was most definitely a concern when he had the Phoenix’s reputation to uphold. ‘Were they arrested?’

  ‘No, sir. This time they were lucky and only received a warning from the club’s manager, but I really think we need to step in and speak with them.’ William shook his head, his disapproval clear in his tightened lips. ‘It’s the Phoenix’s duty as their employer to keep an eye on them. One, it will not be good for the hotel’s reputation to have our employees falling about in a less than acceptable establishment and, two, Mrs Lewis is worried for their safety, sir. It has come to her attention that these particular women are taking it upon themselves to go out alone at night. Often seeking the company of wealthy men. Men they neither know nor should be so easily trusting. They are getting the reputation of being…’ Faint colour darkened William’s cheeks. ‘Free with themselves, sir.’

  His deputy’s discomfort should have been comical but, considering the gravity and potential danger of the situation, Lawrence felt anything but amused. ‘I see. And Mrs Lewis thinks they’re leaving themselves open to assault? Is that it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Protectiveness rose inside Lawrence and he nodded. ‘Then I agree we need to get involved. I’ll speak to them myself. What are their names?’

  William handed a sheet of paper across the desk from the sheaf on his lap. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of writing down their names, their length of service and performance records, sir. I thought you might want to speak with them and thought it best you were informed before you do so.’

  ‘Good.’ Lawrence scanned the names. ‘Anna Baker, Victoria Griffiths and Ruth Parker. I have never known Mrs Lewis to have an issue with any of them before.’ Lawrence looked up. ‘She’ll know these women a lot better than me.’

  ‘I agree, but as she’s raised concerns for their safety, I really think it must be dealt with by you.’

  ‘Agreed. If anything should happen to one of these maids, I’d never forgive myself.’

  ‘Indeed, sir. These girls are young. Barely into their late teens.’

  Lawrence stared at his deputy who had the reputation of being fair but firm. A man with a cool head, whatever the crisis. The depth of worry in William’s eyes was unprecedented. Lawrence frowned. ‘Is there more to this than you’re telling me, William?’

  ‘No. I’m a father, sir. That’s all.’

  Nodding, Lawrence looked again at the names. Parenthood and what William implied lay deep and dangerous within himself, too. If these women were in jeopardy, it was just as much Lawrence’s duty to keep them safe as their kin’s.

  ‘Leave it with me. I will speak to them later today.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  William stood and dipped his head before walking from Lawrence’s office, softly closing the door behind him.

  Lawrence picked up the sheet of paper William had given him and leaned back in his chair. There had been genuine fear in his deputy’s eyes and manner and Lawrence couldn’t help but feel there had been more than the normal amount of apprehension in William’s reaction. Was one, or all, of these women involved in something more perilous than high spirits and over-indulgence? Either way, Lawrence would get to the bottom of their behaviour and do all he could to help them.

  Nine

  Esther closed her tired eyes and fought the headache building at her temples. She sat at her aunt’s dining room table working on an idea of Elizabeth’s to feature a new display in the jewellery department, but every scratch of Esther’s pencil seemed to propel her one step back rather than forwards.

  However, for once, she could not blame her distraction on the Cause. Instead, it was Lawrence Culford who stole her concentration.

  Opening her eyes, she stood and walked to a sideboard where she kept her files and documents pertaining to the Society. She removed a ledger and took it to the table, opening the pages at a list of the delegates in the Bath chapter. They still remained woefully low. Would such a meagre number of dedicated members hold the attention of a man used to dealing with hundreds of wealthy hotel guests? He’d already said he had influential associates, possibly friends, too.

  Hopelessness that the group would never make a difference threatened. They had to invent a way to entice new supporters and members. Women all over the country were risking their lives… and the lives of others. The entire campaign had the potential to spiral out of control and lives could be lost if the government remained steadfast in their decision to exclude women from the vote.

  Maybe Lawrence could canvas support and enrol other men to the Cause? Publicise the fight in his hotel?

  Esther exhaled. She could not get ahead of herself. She suspected the interest in Lawrence’s eyes whenever he looked at her had not been purely professional. But what could she really say or think when her own attraction continued to build, the more she learned about him?

  ‘Ah, you’re still working, I see.’

  Esther turned as her aunt entered the room. ‘I am, but I’ve moved from Pennington’s work to the Cause.’

  Her aunt shook her head, setting her grey curls trembling, her expression settling into a scowl. ‘I might have agreed to take you into my home when my brother ordered you away, Esther, but that does not mean I disagree with his disapproval of your involvement in what will undoubtedly become an ever-increasing and dangerously vo
latile fight. Why do you not give up this nonsense? Your mother died with this campaign in her weakened heart and I am convinced that was the cause of her death. The government are unlikely to change their minds about the vote anytime soon.’

  Annoyed, Esther closed the ledger and returned it to the sideboard, firmly closing the door. ‘If the women involved give up hope, then there will be no chance at all of us winning. I will fight on for however long it takes.’

  ‘Hmm, to the detriment of my well-being as well as your own, no doubt.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Esther gathered her pencils and papers from the table. ‘I look after you to the best of my ability, do I not? I pay towards your rent and put food on the table. I do all I can to ensure my staying here doesn’t influence—’

  ‘Doesn’t influence what exactly? I cook a large amount of your meals, occasionally press your clothes and even sometimes shine your shoes.’ Her aunt visibly bristled as she sat at the table. ‘As your stepmother often says, do not fool yourself into thinking I need you, Esther. From where I’m sitting, it is much more the other way around.’

  Esther glared, hating every time Aunt Mary said anything to infer her loyalty lie with Esther’s stepmother rather than Esther, herself. Didn’t she see how Viola was trying to manipulate her? Drive a wedge between Esther and her aunt? Sometimes, Esther began to hope Aunt Mary genuinely cared for her, only to have that hope quashed whenever she spoke of Viola. ‘And by that I assume you have been talking to Viola today?’

  ‘I have. She telephoned to see how I am and I told her I was entirely exhausted.’

  Exasperated, Esther lowered herself into a seat opposite. ‘If you do not wish to do things for me, then please, don’t feel you have to. I see us as a unit, Aunt. Viola is trying to exert her control even from father’s home in the Cotswolds. She has Papa under her thumb, do not let her do the same to you.’

  ‘Under her thumb? Don’t talk nonsense.’ Her aunt snapped. ‘She is a lovely woman with only your and my best interests at heart. If you choose not to see that, then—’

  ‘Then it may be for the best that we do not discuss my stepmother. Speak to her and have her visit, if you must, but I have no desire to see her or hear of her opinions.’

  Silence descended, and Esther was just about to speak when her aunt got there first.

  ‘I care for you and you are running yourself into the ground for nothing. When was the last time you went for afternoon tea with a friend? Had even a passing interest in a gentleman? Good Lord, Esther, do you want to end up as I am? Alone and dependent on her niece’s company?’

  The hitch in her aunt’s voice stilled Esther. This was a woman Esther considered unshakeable, a force to be reckoned with. Concerned, she reached across the table for her aunt’s hand. ‘Is something wrong, Aunt Mary?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She snatched her hand from Esther’s, her gaze angry. ‘I am merely saying it is unladylike, unnatural even, that you should work all day and then think nothing of standing on the street shouting at passers-by like a newspaper boy.’ She stood, her cheeks red. ‘My brother was not wrong when he sent you to me. I will see you married, Esther. For that, you should be grateful.’

  ‘See me married?’ Esther’s concern vanished under the weight of her aunt’s presumptions. ‘What if I do not wish to marry? Maybe I’m happier alone.’

  Her aunt gave an inelegant sniff. ‘For the time being, possibly, but you are young. This independent charade of yours will soon crack as time goes on.’

  Incensed, Esther stood, her body trembling. ‘Well, for your information, I have a dinner arranged with a gentleman tomorrow evening.’

  Her aunt’s gaze lit with triumph. ‘Aha. So, you do possess a heart and wanting beneath your stiff exterior.’

  Hurt by her aunt’s words, Esther flinched. ‘How can you think me without heart when I do all I can to ensure your comfort and well-being?’

  ‘In exchange for a home.’

  Cursing the telephone call from Viola that had provoked yet another unmitigated attack from her aunt, Esther glared. ‘That is not true.’

  Her aunt gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘It does not matter. Tell me, who is this gentleman you are dining with?’

  Esther shook her head. There was not a chance on earth that she would reveal Lawrence’s name. Mary Stanbury was the social climber to end all social climbers and Esther didn’t doubt for a moment her aunt would recognise his name as owner of one of Bath’s most prestigious hotels. Until she was certain of just how long, and on what foundation, their relationship would last, Esther would breathe nothing about Lawrence to anyone. ‘There is no need for you to know who he is. He is a kind man whom I like very much, but we are nothing more than associates.’

  ‘Associates? Does he work at Pennington’s?’ She pushed.

  ‘No. He’s an associate of the Cause.’ Esther said the words with defiance, knowing any links with the Cause would put an end to her aunt’s interest.

  ‘The Cause? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Esther.’ Her aunt stood, before marching to the door. ‘Will you never learn?’

  Esther glared at the doorway as her aunt disappeared into the hallway. Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if her aunt cared for her at all. Her constant questions, judgement and disparagement barely differed from her father’s. Yet, his sister had taken Esther in, had told her she had a home for as long as she needed it. Why would her aunt do that if she did not love her?

  She had to believe it was only fear for Esther’s future that drove Aunt Mary to be harsh from time to time. If she and Aunt Mary became estranged too, Viola would have succeeded in ostracising Esther from yet another family member. She would not allow that to happen.

  Striding from the dining room with her plans, Esther walked upstairs to her bedroom. Tomorrow she would see Lawrence. Maybe a meal and conversation with a man who interested her would be just what she needed to keep the insecurities about her life at bay.

  Walking to her wardrobe, she pulled out a long, satin dress, then another, then another – all clothes she had brought from home when she’d relied on her father’s wealth to feed and clothe her. The more she examined her clothes, the more her old life felt in touching distance and she pushed the notion deep down inside where it couldn’t hurt her.

  She must focus on the here and now. Who she was today.

  But nerves tumbled through her as she considered her dinner with Lawrence. Was she mad going through with this? Lawrence was wealthy, refined and a wonderfully caring father. She lived with her aunt, going from pay packet to pay packet with no idea what her future held.

  She moved to the mirror and critically assessed her face and hair. Could it really be that his only interest in her was the Cause? Was she a fool to think she detected something deeper in the way he watched and spoke with her?

  Esther closed her eyes.

  When would she ever believe she was wanted and valued?

  Ten

  Lawrence glanced at the huge, ornate white clock hanging above The Orchard’s entrance. Even though it was barely a minute past seven, his foot tapped against the parquet flooring. Nerves poked and prodded at him, but no matter how hard he tried to relax, repose felt an unachievable task until Esther arrived… If she arrived.

  He reached for his water, shaking his head as a suited waiter approached holding a wine list. The young man dipped his head and retreated.

  The alien feeling of being out of control made Lawrence sit a little straighter in his seat. Finely decorated in shades of pale cream and blue, tables laid with shining tableware and glinting crystal, intricate cornices and marble statues giving an ambience of serenity, the restaurant’s interior should have held a calming quality. Yet nothing but self-reproach that he had orchestrated time with Esther tormented him. His motivations did not lie with what was best for his children. Nor did they entirely lie with the Cause. A whole lot of reasoning came down to his own desires. His own pleasure. He liked Esther. A lot. In fact, his emotions
ran worryingly wild.

  An hour before, he’d walked the foyer and dining room of The Phoenix purely for something to do. He should have utilised the time to think what he would say to Esther about the Cause, but he couldn’t consider anything but his concern that she wouldn’t arrive at all.

  He would do his best tonight to entice her wonderful smile, evoke the glorious softening he’d seen in her eyes whenever she was with the children. He’d only seen her dressed in her Pennington’s uniform, the green skirt and jacket cinched tight with a wide black belt that accentuated every inch of her delicate figure.

  She was stunning.

  But he also understood her occasional need for walls.

  Whether for self-preservation or caution.

  Knew all too well how vital they were to a person’s sanity and mental liberty.

  How could he expect Esther to trust him on little more than a few fleeting meetings? A few minutes of conversation? Such expectation was entirely unfair when he continued to fear the disclosure of his own buried secrets.

  He reached for his water glass, his other hand fisted beneath the table. Time and again, he battled the need to yell out loud about all that had happened to him. The way he’d been raised, the physical and psychological effects of the abuse he’d endured and how it continued to haunt him—

  The entrance doors opened, and the attendant stepped forward.

  Esther.

  Relief she’d come flooded through him and Lawrence cursed the kick in his chest. The way he immediately rose to his feet and approached her indicated every inch of his impatience.

  She smiled at the maître d’ as he took her coat, her gaze flitting behind him towards the main restaurant. Lawrence slowed, wanting to watch her for a moment without her noticing him. She wore a pink dress that fell to her ankles, the silk satin material flowing over every curve, and the neckline low, yet decently so, accentuated by a single string of pearls. Her hair was piled high on her head, a pink feather pinned amongst the blonde tresses. Simple, yet breathtaking.