The following week in Pennington’s basement department, Esther stood back from her latest window design and surveyed the sketch with a critical eye as her staff chattered and worked around her. The proposed design was good. Very good. In fact, she was more than a little embarrassed that it had taken Elizabeth pointing out Esther’s failings to make her realise her previous work had been woefully below par.
Laying down her pencil, Esther walked into the store cupboard and breathed deep, enjoying the comfort of knowing her work was something she excelled at, that she could successfully execute time and again. Something that held the power to make her happy.
Running her hand over the bolts of material and netting, she considered which props would work best when displayed with Homeware’s latest pots and pans. The domesticity in front of her turned her mind once again to Lawrence and his children.
The depth of her growing fondness for them was frightening. Made her accept just how easily a person could be seduced by the notion of familial bliss.
She had yet to come across proof that such a thing truly existed.
Her heart and soul were so deeply embedded in her work at the store and at the Society, she worried that she might disappoint his children in the future. Love seemed to come with unspecified parameters, rules and expectations that were little more than chains preventing a person from reaching their true potential. How could she promise to be all she could for him, Rose and Nathanial when she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever manage to be all she was meant to be herself?
The anger in her father’s gaze and the livid disapproval in his expression had cut to her core when she’d thought he loved her mother and, although never active, respected her fight for the vote. But the day he’d ejected Esther from his home, with Viola gleefully looking on, it was as though he could not bear to look at his daughter and his cruel, dismissive words still rang in Esther’s ears, perpetually clawing at her heart.
‘You are little more than a harlot. Parading yourself around the streets and drawing attention from anyone who cares to look at you. A disgrace is what you are. A complete disgrace to me and your poor stepmother. I want you out and never come back.’
Tears burned behind her eyes and Esther dug her fingers into the cushion beside her. Her mother had died from influenza years before and her father had barely grieved his wife of twenty years before marrying the much-younger Viola and moving her into their home. Within months of Esther and Viola living in strained coexistence, her stepmother had fallen pregnant with Benedict, quickly followed by little Peter. Esther had found herself the older sister to two young boys who each took a piece of her heart when they’d been born so innocently into a household that felt strained and unhomely.
Until she’d met Lawrence, Esther was of the absolute conviction that a man could not survive more than a few weeks alone. Now, he’d shaken that belief and it terrified her. How was she to deny the admiration and respect she had for Lawrence’s dedication and love of his children?
Pulling a bolt of crimson satin from one of the many wooden cubbyholes lining the storeroom, Esther carried it into the main area of the department, determined to focus on her work. She placed the material next to her design and searched the room for Amelia. She spotted her at the far end of the room sorting through the various garments hanging on a brass rack.
Approaching her young assistant, Esther stopped at Amelia’s side and flipped through the jacket and skirt combinations in a variety of pale pinks, blues and ivory. ‘These are excellent selections, Amelia. Just the right colours to promote the new summer collections. Well done.’
‘Thank you.’ Amelia smiled briefly before she turned to the rack. ‘I wasn’t sure about the hats and shoes. Did you want something traditional? Only, I thought Miss Pennington might like the idea of promoting lines that didn’t sell very well through the spring. Mr Carter’s designs and the materials he used for the spring collection could easily be worn and enjoyed through July and, possibly, August. It’s just an idea. If you think—’
‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’ Esther gently laid her hand on Amelia’s shoulder. ‘Don’t ever hold back with your suggestions. If Miss Pennington thought for one minute I wasn’t encouraging my team’s innovation, she’d send me out the door. Pennington’s is all about progression, excitement and new opportunities. I think a last attempt at pushing the older merchandise would be welcomed by Miss Pennington and Mr Carter.’
Amelia’s shoulders lowered and she smiled. ‘Shall I head up to the ladies’ and men’s departments now and discuss with the heads which lines haven’t sold as well as we’d hoped?’
‘Absolutely. I need to go outside, so why don’t we walk out together?’
As they left the department, Esther stole a glance at Amelia. Every now and then, she became momentarily threatened by Amelia’s enthusiasm and talent. Esther’s insecurities were shaming and had absolutely nothing to do with Amelia or her work. She was an ally rather than competition. A fellow woman doing her utmost to forge forwards in what was still very much a man’s world. In fact, Amelia was just the sort of young woman the Society needed to recruit. Quiet, yet hardworking and ambitious, she would suit the suffragists perfectly.
Esther halted at the bottom of the grand staircase. ‘Can I ask you a question, Amelia?’
Amelia turned on the bottom step. ‘Of course.’
‘Have you any interest in the women’s suffrage bill?’
‘Well, yes. Yes, I have. The pictures in the newspapers never fail to snag my attention whenever I see them.’
‘But you have no wish to be part of the fight?’
‘I agree with what the women are trying to do, but…’ Amelia frowned and came down the step to stand closer to Esther. She lowered her voice. ‘Some of the things these women are doing look incredibly dangerous. They say arrests are happening all the time.’
Esther gently took Amelia’s elbow and moved her out of earshot of the nearby customers. ‘That’s the suffragettes as opposed to suffragists. The suffragettes’ actions are born out of frustration. One that I understand but not fully share. At least, not at the moment. There are still plenty of other avenues to explore. The real danger most certainly sits with women too afraid or those who do not care to do anything at all to help us win this battle. I try to keep quiet about my participation while I’m at work, but I’m part of the suffragists society.’ She gently squeezed Amelia’s elbow. ‘I’d love for you to join us. I have made some wonderful friends, as well as learning so much more about the women in our community. Would joining be something you’d consider?’
Amelia’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. ‘But suffragist or not, aren’t you afraid of the authorities?’
‘We’ve had no reason to be.’ Esther inhaled. ‘Of course, that could change if we’re forced to increase the ferocity of our campaigning.’
Amelia’s gaze turned hopeful, the colour in her cheeks darkening. ‘You really think I could help?’
‘Of course. You do fabulous work here at the store. Why not further your skills for the greater good? With your organisational support and optimistic attitude, you’d be a real asset. Our group is low on women of our age and we need to encourage others to join and do everything they can. If women of all ages unite, how can the government continue to ignore such a universal petition? I’ll be working side by side with you every step of the way.’
Amelia smiled. ‘All right, why not? I’d love to.’
‘Marvellous. I’ll give you all the details of tonight’s meeting later.’ She squeezed Amelia’s elbow again. ‘You won’t regret coming along, I promise.’
With a nod, Amelia walked up the stairs and, smiling, Esther headed for Pennington’s gilded front doors. Walking outside into the day’s bright sunshine, she strode along the pavement until she reached the empty window waiting for her next display. It was the smallest of Pennington’s three windows, but she would still ensure it was as eye-catching as possible.
Esther scribbled some notes, looking from the window to her clipboard. Studying the window again, she tapped her pencil against her bottom lip. The reflection acted like a mirror and when she saw Lawrence approaching from behind her, her heart stuttered.
She turned around. ‘Lawrence, this is a surprise.’
He stepped closer. ‘You looked so engrossed, I was afraid to break your concentration.’ He glanced at the window. ‘What are you considering?’
‘What I hope will be a fabulous display of men and women’s clothing. Rose inspired me, actually.’
His eyes brightened with clear pride. ‘She did?’
‘Yes,’ Esther smiled, all too aware of just how difficult it was of late to stop thinking about Lawrence’s children. ‘I’m going to display summer sports. Both for those who play and those who spectate. I don’t think Pennington’s has had a window entirely dedicated to outdoor pursuits before. I hope Miss Pennington will love the idea.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell Rose of her contribution.’
Esther swallowed. He really had the most penetrating way of looking at her. It shouldn’t have been considered anything but polite, but her physical reaction to him, the quickened beat of her heart and the heat low in her stomach, proved the opposite. She quickly looked to her notes, hoping her desire hadn’t shown in her eyes. ‘So, are you here to shop for something?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’ She met his soft gaze. Then—’
‘I’d like to invite you to dinner at my home tomorrow night,’ he said quickly. ‘If you are free, that is.’
She froze. ‘Your home?’
‘Yes, just a chance for us to catch up and discuss what I’ve started moving forward with for the fundraiser.’
Esther’s heart picked up speed. Was his invitation only about the auction and ball? Or could she dare to imagine his interest in her began to lean towards the personal, too? Her wish that it did was uncomfortably strong. She forced a smile. ‘Well, in that case, how can I say no? What time should I arrive?’
His blue eyes lit with satisfaction. ‘Shall we say seven?’
‘Perfect.’
His gaze lingered on hers a moment longer and just as Esther thought he might kiss her on the street, right in front of Pennington’s, he comically doffed his hat. ‘Until tomorrow evening, Miss Stanbury.’
Esther’s heart beat fast, her smile absurdly wide as he marched across the street, the epitome of masculine confidence.
She sighed. How on earth was she to resist him, should he attempt to kiss her again? Did she even want to?