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 offered. ‘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…’
As she turned, he gently clutched her elbow. ‘Miss Stanbury, I…’
Her heart raced at the contact and when she looked into his eyes, she saw what could only be described as over-interest. What did he want with her? Worse, why was he having such an alien effect on her? No one had ever made her feel such confusion or interest.
She eased her arm from his grasp, the indecision in his gaze rousing her self-protection. ‘Why are you here?’
He closed his eyes and swiped his hand over his face before opening them again. ‘That is a question I am scrambling to answer myself.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘In all honesty, I don’t know, but I do know it feels right to be here. Talking. With you.’
Time stood still as their gazes locked and Esther’s body heated under the sudden sombreness of his gaze. He smiled so often, his eyes lighting with amusement and humour, yet both had now disappeared as he considered her.
And, in that moment, she had no idea which of the two sides of him she preferred.
*
What is wrong with you, man? Why say that to her? She’ll think you a predator.
Lawrence shook his head and huffed a laugh. ‘Sorry, you must think me—’
‘A little mad and entirely disconcerting?’ Esther Stanbury’s hazel eyes glistened with a hint of amusement. ‘Does that about sum you up, do you think?’
Relieved by her humour, Lawrence took off his hat and pushed the hair from his brow. ‘Can I try again?’
‘With what?’
He swallowed as her quiet beauty and delicately flushed cheeks caused a protectiveness in him that was insane considering the feistiness beneath her sedate outer layer. She was beautiful, seemed so wise and kind, and the effect those attributes had on him were, quite frankly, terrifying.
‘Mr Culford?’ She raised her eyebrows, her eyes almost golden in the sunlight. ‘I need to get back inside. I’m quite certain you have business to attend to also?’
Lawrence quickly put on his hat and nodded. ‘Yes, I do. Of course, but…’
He wanted to ask her to dinner, but the question flailed on his tongue. If she agreed and he spent more time with her, what would become of it? She was clearly ambitious and wanted to make her mark on the world. Something he would usually wholeheartedly applaud, but he also accepted such a woman would never fit into his life when he had the children to think of.
She frowned. ‘Mr Culford?’
Clearing his throat, he stalled for time and forced a smile. ‘Can I ask you a question? Were you responsible for the window designs that caused such an uproar last year? The suggestion of female empowerment and having the mannequins wearing military-inspired dress to symbolise the battle they are fighting was quite a statement. I thought it ingenious.’
Pride immediately brightened her eyes and her shoulders relaxed. ‘I was, yes.’
‘They were most impressive. Served their purpose with your exact intention and provocation. Very clever. Your employers must think your interest in women’s rights a progressive one, if they agreed to such a bold statement all those months ago.’
‘Elizabeth Pennington and Joseph Carter are very forward-thinking.’
‘Joseph Carter?’
‘Elizabeth’s husband and co-manager. She is known by the name Pennington at the store only. Her married name is Elizabeth Carter and, yes, they wholeheartedly support equal rights and opportunities for everyone. Regardless of gender, financial background, colour or creed.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Elizabeth is someone I admire very much and I’m very fortunate to be able to call her my friend as well as employer. She’s ambitious, hard-working and always caring and attentive to others. Just because I believe…’ She halted and briefly closed her eyes before opening them again and softly smiling. ‘I apologise. Once I start to talk about women and our place in society, it’s like opening a floodgate.’
He shook his head, not wanting her to halt. Seeing her so passionate and alive with focus only served to enhance his interest and attraction. ‘On the contrary. I’d like to hear more from you. It’s something I have a great interest in, too. It was my keen interest in the continuing newspaper coverage of the suffrage campaign that led me to adding my support. I’m sympathetic to the Cause and have wondered how I can do more, but everything seems to be constantly hindered by government barriers.’
Her gaze grew intense on his as though assessing his sincerity. ‘Yes, it’s frustrating. The barriers are there and no matter the petitions, letters to governors and others, we don’t seem to be getting any closer to our goal.’ She stared into the distance before facing him once more. ‘The suffragettes are taking more and more radical action. For many months, I’ve thought their tactics unnecessary, but as time goes on…’
Lawrence stilled as concern whispered through him. ‘You’re considering jumping sides?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘The suffragettes’ actions are escalating. Do you really want to become involved? There were further reports of bombings and violent petitions in the papers last week. These occurrences are happening more and more.’
She pulled back her shoulders, her gaze darkening with clear defensiveness. ‘What I decide to do or not do is not your concern. I really must bid you good day, Mr Culford.’
Turning on her heel, she walked towards Pennington’s open double doors.
Inwardly cursing, Lawrence let her go.
Her vexation had been tangible, and although he had no right to steer her in any direction, the notion of her getting caught up in anything violent worried him.
Once she’d disappeared from his view, Lawrence slowly walked away from Pennington’s, his feet moving of their own accord along Milsom Street towards The Phoenix, his hotel on Queens Square.
How could he have been so foolish to assert any sort of opinion on Miss Stanbury? He should have told her of his widowhood. For all he knew, she could assume him married. A man without morals or mindfulness.
He continued to walk, his head bowed and mentally kicking himself for behaving like a fool.