A Rebel at Pennington’s

by Rachel Brimble

  Desire stirred in his groin, and Lawrence breathed deep, berating the way his body betrayed him. He wanted so much for her to think him a thoughtful man. Capable and strong. Carnal attraction was far below what she evoked in him and he wanted to ensure she perceived as much.

  This was a woman who deserved his full attention about an issue that mattered to her – mattered to him – and if he was to impress Esther enough to secure another dinner, a picnic, ride or walk, he had to show her his interest in her went beyond desire.

  He studied her again. She carried herself with elegance and grace. So much so he wondered if she’d been tutored in deportment and etiquette.

  Were her family moneyed? He could only guess so considering her poise and the clear quality and beauty of her gown. She spoke so eloquently, was hugely intelligent and clearly well-educated. Everything about her spoke of upper-middle class.

  Yet, she worked in a store, albeit as a dresser with a creative flair that was entirely unique. Curiosity about her background and her life once more stirred in him, indicating just how much better he wanted to get to know her.

  The maître d’ leaned close to her and she said something, before he nodded and turned.

  Lawrence’s gaze immediately locked with hers.

  Her smile faltered as her study quickly travelled over him from head to toe, before she met his eyes, her shoulders slightly higher than when she’d spoken with the maître d’.

  She walked towards him, the maître d’ ahead of her. ‘Mr Culford, Miss Stanbury has arrived. Can I return you to your table?’

  Lawrence barely heard the man as he brushed past him to take Esther’s arm. As he touched her, she lifted her gaze, a glimpse of happiness in her eyes before she looked ahead. Relieved she didn’t think him forward or obtuse for touching her, Lawrence stood a little taller.

  As they walked, men turned or glanced towards Esther, their eyes darkening with interest. Lawrence pulled back his shoulders, proud that it was him escorting her tonight. Hopefully, for another night, should the evening go well.

  They reached their table and the maître d’ held Esther’s chair as she gracefully sat. Lawrence took his seat, unable to look away from her. She looked astounding, but he suspected she hadn’t noticed a single gentleman admiring her. Her focus travelled over their surroundings, towards the chandeliers, to the right and left at their fellow diners, before she looked at the opulent white crockery and glittering glasses adorning the table.

  ‘Can I ask Richard to bring the wine list, Mr Culford?’

  Lawrence dragged his gaze to the maître d’. ‘Wonderful, thank you.’

  The maître d’ nodded at Lawrence and then Esther before moving away.

  Esther met his eyes as she released a shaky breath. ‘It has been quite a while since I’ve been in a place like this.’

  Concerned that she might not like the surroundings or regretted her suggestion they dine at The Orchard, Lawrence frowned. ‘You don’t like the restaurant? We can always go somewhere else, if you’d prefer?’

  ‘Oh, no. It’s lovely. But it’s also rich. Fancy. My tastes are a lot simpler than my family’s.’ Her cheeks lightly flushed. ‘I think I might have suggested this particular restaurant to impress you that I knew of it.’

  ‘You’ve been here with your family?’ Had he been right in his deduction that she came from a wealthy family? If so, he prayed to God her childhood had been happier than his own.

  ‘A few times, but that was many years ago.’ She sighed, wistfully. ‘The Orchard was one of my mother’s favourite places to eat in the city.’

  Hating the sudden sadness in her voice, Lawrence leaned closer. ‘Was?’

  The skin at her neck shifted as she swallowed. ‘My mother died a few years ago. Influenza.’

  He moved to touch her hand where it lay on the table but hesitated and reached for his glass instead. To touch her could be too much, too soon. His heart went out to her that the death of her mother should still so deeply affect her. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  She smiled softly. ‘So am I. She was a wonderful woman and I miss her every day.’ Her eyes brightened with pride. ‘She was everything to me. It was her that introduced me to women’s struggles and rights, the importance of gaining the vote. She was beautiful, inspirational and a wonderful mother.’

  Lawrence stared in quiet contemplation. What would it feel like to have been raised by such a woman? He swallowed. Happy for Esther beyond belief that she’d known such love and security but also saddened that it had been taken from her, he fought to find the words that might offer her comfort. ‘Now it makes complete sense how you came to be such a wonderful person, too.’

  Her cheeks tinged with pink. ‘Thank you. I grew up happy, but in adulthood things changed and now I’m estranged from my father because of the Cause.’

  Lawrence raised his eyebrows. ‘But your mother fought for the vote and you followed in her footsteps. Surely your father has been surrounded by the issue for many years?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘And tolerating my mother’s passions was enough. When I followed in her footsteps, it was too much. He wasn’t prepared “to go through all that again”, as he put it.’

  ‘Then it’s his loss.’ Tension rippled through him that their lives weren’t worlds apart after all. How could her father not appreciate such a beautiful, passionate and caring daughter? ‘He should be extremely proud of you.’

  She smiled even though a semblance of sadness shadowed her gaze. ‘Thank you.’

  The waiter approached and handed Lawrence the wine list. He immediately passed it to Esther.

  ‘Why don’t you choose?’

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise before she smiled and took the leather-bound menu.

  Once the wine, their appetisers and main courses had been ordered, Lawrence clasped his hands on top of the table. ‘So, tell me more about your work.’

  She sipped her water. ‘For the Cause or Pennington’s?’

  All of it. I want to know everything about you. ‘Either. Both.’

  ‘Well, Pennington’s is a wonderful place and I thank God every day that Elizabeth gave me a position there.’

  ‘Ah, Elizabeth Pennington. I should’ve guessed she was the daughter of Edward Pennington.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I know of him. I’ve heard he isn’t the most amicable of men. Is that true? I assume you knew him when he ran the store?’

  ‘I did but have learned a lot more about him as Elizabeth and I have grown closer. It seems that his old-fashioned views on society and commerce have lessened somewhat, but that might well be because he’s happy travelling the globe with his new fiancée.’

  ‘Fiancée?’ The man had to be at least sixty years old.

  ‘Yes. Annabelle Heimann. She’s absolutely lovely, glamorous and kind. Elizabeth could fall at her feet for keeping her father away from the store, I’m sure.’

  Lawrence laughed. ‘Well, I’ve never actually spoken to him, but the changes Pennington’s have made since he handed over the reins are remarkable.’

  Satisfaction burned in her eyes. ‘I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to Elizabeth.’

  ‘And you’re happier there now?’

  ‘Much. As is everyone else who works there, I suspect. Edward Pennington was not a man crusading for equal rights or opportunity, believe me. He’d much prefer for rich and poor, young and old, male and female, to be put in little boxes where he could decide who he allowed to do what.’

  Lawrence smiled, his fondness of her escalating. He could listen to her all night. She burst with passion and care. ‘You started work there as a window dresser?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ She laughed. ‘I was a shop girl for at least a year before I grew brave enough to one day voice my opinions to Elizabeth about the windows. She was instantly interested in what I had to say, and we got along so well.’ She took another sip of water. ‘I was lucky. I desperately needed a job and consider myself even more fortunate I h
ave one I love.’

  The waiter came to the table with their wine and appetisers, and Lawrence watched Esther as she smiled at the waiter and placed her napkin across her lap. She had shared some of her history with him, but details of his own remained buried. Maybe he could at least share a little about Abigail and his sisters this evening.

  The waiter retreated and Esther picked up her spoon. ‘Hmm, this soup is delicious.’

  ‘Good.’ Lawrence dipped his spoon into his bowl. ‘Your visit to the house caused Mrs Jackson to ask a few questions, you know.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m not surprised. Your cook struck me as a formidable woman from your summary of her.’

  ‘She is. Even though my marriage to Abigail was arranged and we made no secret of that, Mrs Jackson reads a lot of romance novels and she liked to look at Abigail and me as a hero and heroine, bound together on a path of eternal bliss. As much as we cared for each other, we also respected each other’s roles in the house, work and with Rose. We were a good team.’

  She carefully watched him, concern shadowing her eyes. ‘And you miss her?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do. It wasn’t right that she died so young.’ Lawrence shook his head. ‘The children will suffer the most over time from her death.’

  ‘I’ve no idea how you’ve managed without her these past years.’

  ‘With the help of my amazing staff and the occasional visits from my sister, Cornelia.’

  Esther’s hazel eyes brightened with interest. ‘You have a sister?’

  ‘Two. Cornelia, the eldest, and Harriet, the youngest.’

  ‘And you’re the elder brother.’

  ‘I am.’

  They ate in silence for a moment before Esther spoke again, her brow furrowed. ‘You said occasional visits. Do you not see your sisters very often? I have two half-siblings, Peter and Benedict. I’d like to think we’ll one day see each other more often than we do now. Especially if one or all of us have children.’

  Pleased that she mentioned one day having children, Lawrence smiled. ‘Cornelia has two boys, Alfred and Francis. When she visits, the house is loud, messy and filled with laughter. Just the way it should be. As for Harriet? She’s on a very different path than motherhood and family life.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Money. It’s all about money with Harriet.’ He cleared his throat and decided to shift the conversation to safer ground, lest she ask about his and his sisters’ upbringing. ‘Enough from me, let’s discuss your work for the Cause. Tell me what you’d like me to help with.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do to help? It interests me to gain a man’s perspective on a fight that is widely considered a woman’s struggle. The more male support we have, the more the government is likely to take notice. There’s only so many steps we can take to make these people realise women matter, too.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I fear you’re right.’ Lawrence put down his spoon and picked up his wine. ‘I don’t doubt your passion and insight is shared by thousands of women across the country and the Government are regrettably short-sighted. Something must be done. I’d love to offer you the use of The Phoenix in your endeavours. We welcome a large scope of people, from businessmen, to foreign visitors, to families travelling through the south-west. Visitors from all over the country, all over Europe, want to see our famous Georgian spa town. The city is an attraction. Men and women alike come to see the Roman Baths, Royal Crescent, The Pump Room… even where Jane Austen lived for a few years. Bath is a tourist attraction, which can only be to the Cause’s benefit. Why not capitalise on the passing trade? Why not gain their interest in the hope they’ll add their voices to the fight? Maybe some will even leave the city with a mind to starting their own group of campaigners.’

  Her eyes were alight with interest. ‘You want to host an event at the hotel? Well, it’s definitely an interesting idea, but what about you?’

  Lawrence hovered his spoon at his mouth as caution whispered through him. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. What can you bring to the Cause? The hotel is something you own, it isn’t you. I want to know what sparked your interest in the Suffrage Bill. Why it speaks to you personally? Once I know that, then I’ll know what makes you tick, so to speak.’

  Uneasy, he was struck dumb and slowly lowered his spoon. Except for Cornelia, never before had anyone wanted to know who he really was inside. Never before had anyone not taken him and his actions at face value and not accepted what he said and did as anything but his truth. Esther was different. Intelligent. Astute. Canny… and he should be wary. Very wary. If he failed to maintain the stronghold on the face he presented to the world and allow his attraction to this woman to tilt the balance of his self-control, their relationship could end in his utter humiliation.

  ‘Lawrence? Have I said something wrong?’

  His automatic smile slipped into place. ‘Not at all.’ He took another sip of his soup, thankful that it went some way to easing the sudden dryness in his throat. ‘My interest in the Cause started when I heard some women who work for me discussing it at the hotel. I stopped. Asked questions. These women were mature, competent, intelligent and hard-working. It is wrong that they haven’t a hand in our country’s decision-making. On top of that, I have Rose and I want her to grow up in a world where she has a voice.’

  There. He’d kept his explanations truthful, if not entirely all-encompassing. His other reasons, his more personal reasons, would remain hidden. Esther did not need to know how hard he had fought, the pain he’d had to overcome to speak his mind. She didn’t need to know how complicit his parents had been in their treatment of him, and the kind of boy and man Lawrence had been for the first two and half decades of his life.

  He acted with cowardice, but what choice did he have if he wanted Esther to remain interested in him? If she were to learn how he’d grown up and the scars he carried on his skin and deep inside, she wouldn’t look at him with attentiveness but pity.

  ‘I like that very much.’ She smiled and laid down her spoon. ‘You want change. For Rose, your staff. Maybe even a new wife one day.’

  He stilled. ‘A new wife?’

  Her cheeks reddened and she quickly reached for her wine. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t presume you’ll want to marry again.’ She took a drink and returned her glass to the table. ‘After all, marriage is the last thing I want.’

  The last thing? Did she not see a husband in her future? She’d mentioned children. Didn’t she want a family? After the way she’d been with Rose and Nathanial, Lawrence could all too easily – too unnervingly – imagine her embracing motherhood.

  He picked up his wine and leaned back, feigning repose. ‘Tell me what you need me to do.’

  Eleven

  Esther gripped her knife and fork as her appetite for food was replaced with an appetite for Lawrence’s understanding. ‘The Cause is about more than the vote. It’s about…’ She searched the restaurant, her gaze falling on one woman after another. She faced him, enthusiasm rolling through her. ‘It’s about liberation. Having women embrace the belief they are equally as capable, equally as powerful, as the men with whom they share their lives.’

  ‘Hmm.’ His eyes glazed a little as though a thought had struck him and then he frowned. ‘Yesterday, I had to speak with three of the hotel’s chambermaids about their recent behaviour away from the hotel.’

  Confused by the change in subject, Esther raised her eyebrows. ‘And their behaviour had something to do with what I just said?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ He picked up his water and drank, before slowly lowering the glass to the table. ‘My manager was disturbed that they were asked to leave a club recently for overexuberance fuelled by drink and youth. I was immediately concerned but wanted to hear their side of the story. They explained they were doing little more than what men do all the time. They asked why they shouldn’t have some innocent fun in their leisure time, too? Why it’s frowned upon for them to go out unchaperoned when men are free to come
and go as they please.’

  Esther smiled. ‘Exactly. These women seem admirably spirited.’

  ‘Oh, they are. And by the end of my time talking with them, a reprimand from me had felt entirely unjustified. I asked them to show a little discretion and sent them on their way. I’m wondering now if they could be the perfect candidates to set to work on any suffrage campaigning we might plan from the hotel.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea.’ Esther eagerly sat forward. ‘Are these women fairly young?’

  ‘Eighteen or nineteen.’

  ‘Then they will be perfect. Women as young as eighteen sometimes feel the fight is not theirs as they cannot see how a vote will ever be given to them. Whereas I think the younger the women involved, the better. They are our future, after all.’

  His beautiful blue eyes remained intense on hers. ‘Are you widely open with your work?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He lifted his shoulders. ‘Do you demonstrate? Talk publicly about your dreams and desires for women?’

  ‘Of course.’ Esther studied him. The lowered tone of his voice and the seriousness of his expression indicated a shift in his demeanour. She couldn’t help but worry her slipped reference to his remarrying had in some way offended him. She cleared her throat. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t. I can imagine you’re as forthright with anyone else as you are with me.’

  So, she had annoyed him. Her confidence wavered and she took a sip of her water. ‘I try to be, but it’s not always easy. There are more suffragists groups throughout the south-west than there are suffragettes. As a suffragist, I aim to help with peaceful campaigning, but, as I said to you before, I’m finding doing so increasingly difficult. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but, if the future should require it, I’ll do whatever is necessary for women to be heard, and I’m sure others in our group will, too. This isn’t a battle, Lawrence, it’s a war. If we must take up arms to prove victorious, so be it.’