Esther leaned over Louise’s shoulder and pointed to her latest slogan design. ‘The lioness could easily become a recognisable symbol of the group. A new image that will pertain to the Society right here in Bath.’
Louise frowned and placed her hands on her slender hips. ‘I’m not so sure a lioness portrays what we are.’
Esther straightened, her passion for the Cause driving her excitement. ‘A lioness is the hunter, the provider of food and sustenance to her young. The one the lion depends upon to nourish their family, their pride, so they might thrive and strengthen. Isn’t that everything we want for our fellow women, our families and children?’
Murmurs of agreement sounded from the sixteen women seated in the back room of the post office Louise ran with her husband, Wyatt. If Esther secured the backing of the others for a new campaign, it would bring their section of the suffragist movement far more respect than they had managed to achieve in the city thus far.
Lawrence Culford’s concern when she’d mentioned the suffragettes had harangued her conscience all day. She had never been an advocate for violence and, despite her impatience for the group to move forward, Lawrence’s obvious concern had made her realise it was too soon to resort to something she could come to regret.
For she already regretted snapping at him the way she had.
Since when had she become so embroiled in her quest for the vote that she retorted to genuine alarm with harshness? That was something that reminded her far too much of her stepmother. And Lawrence had been alarmed. Despite barely knowing him, Esther seemed to sense his emotions more quickly and more assuredly than she’d like.
She forced her attention back to the here and now as she strolled around the table. The women turned in their chairs and she caught the eyes of each as she walked. ‘We need to launch ourselves as a force to be respected. To watch. A group that women can access and join. At the moment, who knows where we meet? Who knows how to speak with us?’
‘But it has to be that way for our safety.’ Louise lifted Esther’s sketch. ‘These are good, but parading our group in such a way will mean we become that much more of a target for the authorities. Not to mention the press. Our meetings are held in secret for a reason. They state in the papers that enforced feeding of suffragette campaigners is at an all-time high. Sooner or later, someone is going to die. For the time being, I am not prepared to expose myself, or any of you, to such risk.’ Louise looked at Esther and her eyes clearly indicated the silent end of her sentence. But that may well change in time…
Esther nodded. ‘I agree, but we do need more members to join the fight. We need more men like your husband.’
Part of her mentioned men as a secret atonement to Lawrence and everything he clearly stood for. She didn’t doubt his involvement in the Cause… even if she did doubt if his interest in her was entirely about her work for the Society. Whatever the man wanted from her, her trust and respect for him, if she were to ever see him again, would have to be earned.
She pulled back her shoulders. ‘My mother worked tirelessly for the Cause and involved me as soon as I was old enough. I have listened for half of my life to the frustrations and wants of so many women. I will not stop for me and I will not stop for my mother.’
Murmurings sounded around the room.
Esther straightened her spine as fire burned hot inside of her.
Since her father had banished her, she’d supported herself even while her aunt continued to receive payouts from her father. She didn’t need or want his money. He no longer wished to have his daughter living with him but continued to send monetary compensation. No doubt as a way to soothe his conscience for betraying the trust and care Esther’s mother would have expected of him when she died. Aunt Mary rarely disclosed her feelings about Esther’s work or, indeed, her estrangement from her father. Which, more often than not, left Esther feeling that her living with her aunt was as fragile a situation as it had been when she’d been at home with her father.
How was she to explain to the women of the Society the effects on her should she fail to achieve all she set out to do when so many of them had security, money, families and soft places to fall?
Determined that her ideas would be seriously considered, Esther pushed forward, despite the groans and scuffles that resounded around the room, threatening her confidence. Louise’s husband supported their campaign, even if his help was reluctantly welcomed by some members. It sometimes felt as though she and Louise would never make certain women seated in the room believe that men were not the enemy but extra bodies that could help them succeed in their endeavours.
Frustrated but not ready to give up, Esther strode back to her empty seat and picked up the poster she’d designed, holding it aloft. ‘If we paste this to as many billboards and buildings as possible, we will garner further support from both men and women. Here I have joined the lioness with the lion, thus demonstrating that human beings, regardless of their gender, can work together. Just because the government fights us at every corner, there are plenty of men who encourage and support our right to vote.’
‘Is that so?’ Cecilia Reed, a staunch woman in her mid-thirties, sniffed.
She often cited herself above Louise, who was the group’s elected leader. There was something about Cecilia that Esther didn’t entirely trust. Her negativity and questioning sometimes poked at her intuition that Cecilia’s agenda for the group was far from their goals of suffrage and unity.
Esther mustered every ounce of bravado she had and crossed her arms. ‘Do you have something to add, Cecilia?’
‘I do. Perhaps you would like to name these so-called male supporters? I am yet to find a single man who comes to more than one petition before he disappears again. The last campaign we held, the only man there, along with his infernal scribbling, was the journalist, Robert Sharp. We all know he only writes what serves to brighten his name in the public’s opinion. What man actually wants to give us one iota of real empowerment?’ She glanced around the table, her cheeks flushed. ‘I know my husband doesn’t. And, in my experience, most husbands believe the same.’
Esther held Cecilia’s gaze, her mind filling with Lawrence and his admiration of her window design and his keen attentiveness in everything she’d had to say about women’s progression. Did she really know him well enough to voice his name as a supporter? It suddenly felt incredibly unfortunate that she did not.
She cleared her throat. ‘I know of a few men, for your information.’
‘Really?’ Cecilia raised her eyebrows, torment glinting in her dark brown eyes. ‘Care to name them?’
Despite the goading Cecilia seemed intent on pursuing, Esther shook her head. ‘It isn’t my place to name anyone who shows support unless they wish it. Only people willing to publicly show their commitment and who are fully aware of the challenges they’re exposing themselves to should be named. Anything else is immoral and controlling. Don’t you think?’
Murmurs of ‘hear, hear’ and ‘absolutely’ sounded around the room.
Cecilia threw a final glare at Esther before she leaned back and crossed her arms under her ample bosom.
Triumphant, Esther turned to Louise, who smiled as she rose to her feet. ‘On that note, I’m calling tonight’s meeting to a close. Please each take one of Esther’s posters and pamphlet designs to consider for our demonstration next week. I’d really appreciate your opinions on deciding if we go forward with these new messages. Is Esther right? Should we focus on enrolling more women and men into the Bath chapter? It’s highly probable in doing so, it will better serve us in getting councillors to speak for us in Parliament. We’ll meet again two nights from now and, if we’re all in agreement, Wyatt will ensure we have enough copies of Esther’s designs to distribute before the demonstration. Good evening, ladies.’
Pleased that Louise had shown some support for the new slogans, Esther stood back as the other members filed from the room, noticing that only Cecilia pointedly ignored the samples and continued, empty-handed, from the room. Shaking her head, Esther resolutely pushed away the infernal self-doubt that stubbornly resurfaced upon a rejection – regardless of the majority support.
As she gathered the remaining posters and pamphlets, Esther’s mind wandered once more to Lawrence and their abrupt parting. Her misgivings about him were warning enough that any further contact would be a mistake, so why did she keep thinking of him?
It was because of his interest in the Cause. Because she’d looked into his eyes and saw that he cared what she had to say, what she felt. An understanding she desperately wanted.
Esther pushed her designs into her leather portfolio, whipping the zip closed.
Her father’s harsh words had been enough to last a lifetime. Without her mother’s guidance, support and protection, self-reliance was her only defence against a loss that burned like an unhealed wound across her heart. She could not falter. The Cause had been in her life since she was barely ten years old and always would be until women all over the country secured the right to vote.
‘Esther?’
She started and turned.
Louise stood on the other side of the table, her blue eyes concerned, and her brow furrowed. ‘You know not to take Cecilia too seriously. She’ll be onboard with the designs soon enough.’
‘Oh yes, I know.’
‘Then why are you so glum? Are you worried about something else we discussed tonight?’
‘No, not at all.’ Esther forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was for Louise to think her passion for the Cause wavered. Having Elizabeth doubt her was hard enough. ‘My mind has turned to other things. Nothing to do with the Society.’
Louise gathered the pens scattered atop the table. ‘Anything I might be able to help you with?’
Deciding it would do no harm to confide in Louise, Esther exhaled. Louise was a good and trusted friend. One who neither gossiped nor judged. ‘It’s bothering me that I was rather rude to a gentleman today.’
‘Rude?’ Louise’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why?’
‘Because I thought he overstepped the mark with his care for me. I was wrong.’
‘I see. Then apologise and I’m quite sure the matter will be forgotten.’
‘How can I apologise when there’s every chance I’ll never see him again?’
‘In that case, the matter is surely settled?’
Esther sighed, feeling strangely regretful at the notion of not seeing Lawrence Culford again. She would’ve like to have learned more of his thoughts about the Cause, if nothing else. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Whatever you said to this gentleman, I’m sure it’s forgotten.’
‘Maybe.’
Louise sat in one of the chairs at the table. ‘You look so worried. I didn’t mean to make light of the situation. If you really feel you want to apologise, then you should seek him out. Where did you meet him?’
‘At the store.’
‘At Pennington’s? Then I’m certain he’ll be back sooner or later.’
Esther’s heart quickened. ‘But what will I say to him? He’s a father, a widower, with no underhand intentions, I’m sure, but he makes me inexplicably uneasy.’
‘Well, that is interesting. You’ve never struck me as a woman whose control can be shaken by anyone.’
Affronted, Esther immediately straightened, her cheeks burning. ‘He doesn’t shake me.’
Louise smiled knowingly. ‘Are you sure?’
Words stuck in Esther’s throat.
Standing, Louise lifted her shoulders. ‘Whenever you happen upon him again, give him your apology and be done with it. After all, this was nothing more than a chance meeting between you… wasn’t it?’
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.