‘If government would only listen and take us seriously, campaigners wouldn’t resort to violence and the destruction of property. I fear the campaigners’ actions will only grow in fervour and aggression the longer we are ignored. The more desperate women are to be heard, the more they’ll increase their efforts, and every time they fail, more blood will be on yours and the government’s hands…’ She raised her eyes to the black and white picture of the King hung on the wall opposite her before meeting Whitlock’s eyes once more. ‘On the King’s hands. If peaceful action continues to be ignored and only acts of supreme violence lead to a breakthrough, it will prove that is all men understand. I have absolutely no idea when or how we’ll secure the vote, Sergeant, but mark my words, we will secure it.’
He studied her, colour mottling his cheeks as a vein rhythmically throbbed at his temple. ‘You’re making a grave mistake by remaining resolute in this, Miss Stanbury. I can easily keep you and your associates here for a second night. How would that be?’
Thoughts of Lawrence and the children seeped into her mind and a prickling burned behind her eyes. She had to stay strong. For herself. For her associates. For all women. She lifted her chin. ‘I’ll stay here for a second and a third, if that’s what I must do. The fight has only just begun.’
‘Then that is a shame.’ He picked up his notebook and stood. ‘A young, lovely-looking woman like yourself could have a bright future ahead of her. If you continue with this nonsense, you’ll find yourself without friends, a job, no chance of marriage or the children you state you think of in your campaigning. Each time you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t, you’ll be arrested, and your sentence lengthened. But if that’s the life you choose, so be it.’ He rose and turned to Godwin. ‘Take her back to the cell, Constable. It seems Miss Stanbury is more than happy to stay another night with us.’
Esther trembled with suppressed frustration as she glared at his turned back before Whitlock opened the door and disappeared into the corridor. Tears pricked her eyes once more and she swallowed, grappling for a hold on her fragile emotions.
Godwin’s huge hands clasped her arm and shoulder and she was marched from the room and along the corridor towards the cells.
Whitlock’s words of warning reverberated in Esther’s mind, muting the shouts of encouragement from Louise and the others as she walked past their cells. She entered her own cell and sat on the bed, defiantly glaring at Godwin until he’d shut and bolted the door.
The noise and shouting filtered through the walls, speeding her pulse as Esther leaned her back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes.
Lawrence’s handsome face blurred with Rose’s and Nathanial’s as tears slipped from beneath her closed lids.
How could she stop campaigning now? How could she turn away from the women she had stood side by side with for so long? Her belief in the Cause and the rights of women consumed her as much as her love for Lawrence. She felt the same exhilaration, power and commitment whenever she fought against the authorities as she had when she’d lain in Lawrence’s arms. She could not be with him and stand with women who turned militant. She had to think of her family, Lawrence, Rose and Nathanial.
Her hand wandered to her stomach. An unborn child. One she prayed Lawrence would embrace rather than reject. And what of her job at Pennington’s, Elizabeth, Joseph and Amelia?
Swiping at her damp cheeks, Esther stood and pulled back her shoulders. Whatever happened next, the fight for the vote had to go on. She had to go on.
Forty-Three
Lawrence entered Pennington’s and headed for the grand staircase. Excitement pulsed through him at the prospect of seeing Esther again after more than a week apart. A week that had been draining, challenging, but also incredibly enlightening.
It had taken his trip to Culford, and maybe even the death of his mother, to realise he had to take what he wanted – and who he loved – now or forever regret it. Once his mother’s final Will and Testament had been read, he, Cornelia and Harriet would know whether Ophelia Culford had gone forward with her threat to sell the estate.
If she had, then her children would work things out together. If she hadn’t and done as Lawrence had asked and passed the estate to his sisters, he would do everything in his power to support them in their plans and work.
The third option, the one that weighed the heaviest, was if his mother had named him her heir. If that turned out to be the case, he would somehow find a way to either make peace with himself and his childhood home or he would ask Harriet if she would like to live at Culford and manage it in his absence. Cornelia, too, if that was what she wanted. Yet he had a strong feeling his eldest sister’s plans stretched beyond their past and far into the future.
As did his.
A person’s experiences, whether they be joyous or heartbreaking, shaped who they became. He dreaded to think what might have happened to his parents for them to become such bitter adults. Whatever had taken place, he was utterly convinced it had been bad enough for them to join forces in raising Lawrence with resentment, violence and cruelty. Now they’d gone, he had to take what they’d taught him to be better, live better and, most of all, love better. That started with Rose and Nathanial and ended, he hoped, with Esther.
He took the stairs, edging through the crowds coming in the opposite direction and past the women standing at the mahogany banister with an optimum vantage to observe the atrium. He smiled. Pennington’s was indeed a place people longed to see and be seen. Since he’d got to know Esther, he’d come to fully understood her passion in her work for the Cause and Pennington’s. If she should ever accept his hand, he would make it clear he understood her joy and need to work. It was part of what made her such an amazing woman. A woman with whom he wanted to share his life and his children’s lives.
He’d hidden behind a false veneer, playacted happiness and satisfaction, and so often become uncertain and second-guessed his choices. Yes, he wore his success well and loved Rose and Nathanial more than life itself, but, until now, he’d never quite managed to shed the skin battered and scarred by his father’s words and belt.
Now, for the very first time, he was free. Untethered and ready to live authentically with his family and the woman he loved. No more hiding. No more believing he wasn’t as deserving of happiness as much as the next person. No more repressing his feelings of fear, rejection or ridicule. Instead, he’d wear his heart on his sleeve and give his love in a way that was strong and assured.
He was not his father. He was a man who wanted to share his life with the first and only woman he’d ever truly loved.
He reached the ladies’ department and strode between the alabaster posts at its entrance, happiness and joy rippling through him. The space teemed with giggling, chattering women as young shop girls bustled left and right, their arms filled with bolts of satin and cotton, or draped with dresses and hats of every imaginable colour. He scoured the room for Esther, hoping she was here rather than hidden away in the basement department.
Spotting an older woman at the counter, her pen moving at lightning speed across a ledger, Lawrence removed his hat and approached. ‘Excuse me. Might I interrupt you?’
She looked up, her grey eyes glazed in concentration. ‘Hmm?’ She blinked and her eyes cleared, her smile slipping into place. ‘Oh, pardon me, sir. I was immersed in my work. How might I help you?’ She offered him her hand. ‘I’m Mrs Woolden, the head of the ladies’ department here at Pennington’s.’
Lawrence took her hand. ‘Lawrence Culford. It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Oh, you’re…’ Her smile slipped, her eyes a little panicked. ‘Mr Culford.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘I was hoping to catch Miss Stanbury before she left for lunch. I’ve booked a table for us at The Pump Rooms as a surprise.’
The woman’s cheeks had paled, and she glanced left and right before facing him again. ‘You don’t know, do you?’
‘Know what?’ Lawrence’s concern d
eepened as he looked towards the department entrance. ‘Esther is well, isn’t she?’ Her gaze flitted about the room and Lawrence stepped closer. ‘Mrs Woolden?’
‘It really isn’t right that you should find out this way.’
‘Find out what?’
Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed as she waved him to the edge of the counter.
Foreboding tip-tapped along Lawrence’s spine as he followed her. ‘Mrs Woolden, if something has happened to Esther—’
‘She’s…’ She urged him closer with a swift flap of her hand, her voice lowered. ‘She’s been arrested.’
‘Arrested?’
‘Shh!’
Lawrence huffed a laugh as shock reverberated through him. He lowered his voice. ‘That’s impossible. Surely, you are mistaken? What on earth would Esther do to—’
‘She was part of a group intent on setting fire to a postbox, that’s what.’ Mrs Woolden’s gaze filled with disapproval as she shook her head. ‘It’s a disgrace. I wholeheartedly support the fight for the vote, but to resort to violence? No. It’s just not the done thing by any man or woman and I’m thankful Miss Pennington and Mr Carter agree.’
Joseph stared. Esther had been arrested? He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. ‘What have they got to do with this?’
‘They’re her employers, Mr Culford. This has everything to do with them. However Miss Pennington or Mr Carter feel about the Cause, they cannot be seen to advocate violence. Too much is at stake for the store if the masses hear that they’ve supported Esther in her actions. She’s taken a risk and is now suspended from her duties until Miss Pennington and Mr Carter have heard Esther’s side of the story.’
‘Suspended? But Esther would never be a part of anything that might harm others. Surely, there is some misunderstanding.’
‘There is most definitely no misunderstanding, sir. If there were she wouldn’t be held at the police station.’
Sickness rolled through him. Had he really got Esther so wrong? Had he mistaken her passion for change for something harder, colder? He had to speak with her.
‘She’s at the station now?’
‘I believe so. Tonight will be the second night they’ve kept her there. Mr Carter visited this morning to see if he could do anything to persuade the police to release her.’
‘And the police refused to let her go?’
‘If what I overheard Mr Carter saying to Miss Pennington this morning is correct, they’ve set an astronomical amount of bail for Miss Stanbury. If she’s to be home this evening, a sympathetic soul with very deep pockets will have to take pity on her.’
Anger surged through Lawrence and he clenched his fingers. ‘For the love of God. Bail is meant for real criminals who are a threat to society, not women trying to be heard.’
‘Mr Culford, you must keep your voice down.’ Mrs Woolden shot her gaze around the department and pulled him deeper into the corner. ‘If Esther had been successful in her mission, she would have been a bona fide threat to society. Can’t you see that? The police are doing their job.’
What in God’s name had pushed Esther into thinking she had no other choice but to resort to violence? Disappointment and anger unfurled inside him. Hadn’t she thought of the innocent? How could he forgive her for this? How could he allow her to be around Rose and Nathanial? The smallest crack began to splinter across his heart. Had he been a fool to love and trust her?
He faced Mrs Woolden. ‘Had she been herself before this? There was nothing out of the ordinary in her manner or words?’
‘Not really.’ Mrs Woolden frowned. ‘I suppose she’s been more down and withdrawn these past few days than usual. In fact, I’ve tried speaking with her, as has Miss Pennington, but to no avail.’
Lawrence slowly nodded. Was it because he’d left that Esther had felt pushed to such radical action? That made no sense. She had urged him to visit his mother. To try to reconnect with a woman from whom he’d been estranged for years. Yet, he could not think of any other reason for her to do such a thing other than feeling she’d been abandoned a second time. Or was this all about the Cause and she was now prepared to do anything she had to if it brought about a faster result?
Putting on his hat, he nodded to Mrs Woolden. ‘I must go. Thank you for telling me.’
She touched his arm. ‘Mr Carter asked the police if there was anything he could do to aid her comfort, but they sent him away. There’s only so much Pennington’s can do for their staff, Mr Culford. We’re responsible for our decisions away from the store and should always be aware of how they’ll affect Pennington’s reputation.’
‘I understand, but I have to do all I can to get her out of there. After that…’ He clenched his jaw. ‘After that…’
‘You’ll be better off thinking of those lovely children I hear you have than your desires. I thought the world of Miss Stanbury, but this—’
‘Could be a mistake. Let us consider her innocent until proven guilty.’
She studied him before her gaze slowly softened. ‘You’re right. Good luck, Mr Culford.’
With a curt nod, Lawrence hurried from the department, apologising as he knocked and bumped into staff and customers. He’d had little choice but to visit his mother on her deathbed. Esther had said if he neglected to do so, there was a chance regret would linger in the same place as his childhood beatings. She had understood he had to go and loved her all the more for persuading him to do so. Did her recent actions stem from her fear of being left alone? He suspected it could only be that which made her feel cornered to do anything that meant unity with others.
She would fight for what she felt was right, to be a part of something bigger than herself regardless of the consequences. A passionate woman. A potentially dangerous woman. Yet with a deep sense of equality and freedom that he loved so very much.
Lawrence rushed down the grand staircase and through the atrium. How could he have not seen something like this coming? He, of all people, knew how frustration and resentment festered and built until it exploded into physical and psychological fury. Sometimes, infinite amounts of pressure bore down on people until they lost complete control and did whatever was necessary to escape the bondage to which they were subjected.
But he would never condone what Esther had been a part of. He worried he would never find it in himself to forgive her either.
Jogging along the street, Lawrence dipped and ducked through the crowds, swaying between carts and prams, dogs on leads and parasols hovering so close to his head he risked losing an eye.
At last, he turned into the street housing Bath’s police station.
He took the steps two at a time and burst through the double doors, heading straight to the wooden counter and the sergeant standing behind it.
The sergeant’s brow creased, his gaze sombre. ‘Might I help you, sir?’
Lawrence forced himself to take a step back, keep the volume of his voice to a minimum. ‘Yes. I believe you’re holding a Miss Esther Stanbury?’
‘We are, sir. Is she a relation of yours?’
‘I’m her… a family friend. I’d like to speak with her, if I may.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible.’ The sergeant looked to the papers in front of him. ‘There might be a chance she’ll be released tomorrow. If I were you, I’d come back in the morning.’
Lawrence clasped his hands to the countertop, his frustration bursting wide open. ‘What is the amount of her bail? I’d like to pay it.’
The sergeant held his gaze before shaking his head. ‘As far as I know, it will be a fine to be paid rather than bail, sir. But, either way, I don’t think it would be wise for you to settle the amount due. These women are not meant for saving.’
‘Saving her isn’t my intention. Believe me, Miss Stanbury is strong enough to save herself. All I want is to give her the chance to explain herself. Doesn’t everyone deserve that?’
The sergeant stared for a long moment before exh
aling a heavy breath. ‘As you wish. If you insist on paying for her release despite her intended actions, you’re clearly a commendable friend, sir.’ The sergeant stood back from the counter. ‘Take a seat. I’m sure Sergeant Whitlock will want to speak with you.’
‘Sergeant Whitlock?’
‘The officer in charge of Miss Stanbury and her associates, sir.’ He pointed over Lawrence’s shoulder. ‘Have a seat.’
He walked away, and Lawrence slowly made his way to the five wooden chairs lined up against a far wall. He sat and stared blindly ahead as he waited, fury, confusion and hope that this was all a misunderstanding whirling through him on a terrifying wave.
Forty-Four
As perspiration trickled down her back and between her breasts, Esther paced another circuit of the cell, the dank and musty smell of urine and stale heat further permeating her skin. In the hours since she’d spoken with the sergeant, she’d managed little sleep, even less food and no liberty from her thoughts.
Would she spend tomorrow night here, too? The night after?
Whitlock had spitefully told her that her fine had been set at ten pounds for her and each of her associates. More than a year’s salary for the majority of people in Bath. The amount was clearly meant as a deterrent to others fighting for the Cause. Several women and men had come in offering a room to the women upon their release, but who had ten pounds to spare for the release of a family member, let alone a stranger?
Aunt Mary now knew of Esther’s incarceration and had left a message at the station’s front desk which Sergeant Whitlock had allowed Esther to read. Although her aunt was ‘utterly appalled’ at Esther’s involvement, she said she would do her best to gather the money together.
Esther closed her eyes. She’d hardly blame her aunt if she entirely gave up on her wayward niece having only heard the police’s side of the story.
A Rebel at Pennington’s Page 31
