A Rebel at Pennington’s Read online

  A REBEL AT PENNINGTON’S

  Rachel Brimble

  Start Reading

  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  www.ariafiction.com

  About A Rebel at Pennington’s

  1911 Bath. Banished from her ancestral home, passionate suffrage campaigner Esther Stanbury works as a window dresser in Pennington’s Department Store. She has hopes and dreams for women’s progression and will do anything to help secure the vote.

  Owner of the prestigious Phoenix Hotel, Lawrence Culford has what most would view as a successful life. But Lawrence is harbouring shame, resentment and an anger that threatens his future happiness. When Esther and Lawrence meet, their mutual understanding of life’s challenges unites them and they are drawn to the possibility of a life of love that neither thought existed.

  With the Coronation of King-Emperor George V looming, the atmosphere in Bath is building to fever pitch, as is the suffragists’ determination to secure the vote.

  Will Esther’s rebellious nature lead her to ruin or can they overcome their pasts and look to build a future together?

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About A Rebel at Pennington’s

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About Rachel Brimble

  The Pennington’s Series

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  I am dedicating A Rebel At Pennington’s to my fabulous father who I recently lost after a long battle with a rare form of dementia.

  He was a truly wonderful man who was so proud of my writing and everything I have achieved since I set out on my career in 2007.

  You are loved so very much, Dad – enjoy your peace now your suffering is finally over. I love you, Becca xx

  One

  City of Bath – 1911

  In a small post office situated in one of the many back alleys that wound like a spider’s web throughout Bath’s city centre, Esther Stanbury feigned interest in a rotary stand of greeting cards. Furrowing her brow as her impatience grew, she snuck another look at the customer talking to her friend and fellow member of the Women’s Suffrage Society, Louise Marlow. Would the grey-haired, bespectacled woman ever leave?

  ‘That’s right, Mrs Baldwin. The post office will be running a normal service regardless of the rumours to the contrary. The Coronation will not affect the postal service for more than a day, I assure you.’ Louise smiled, deftly steering Mrs Baldwin towards the shop door and pulling it open, causing the bell above it to tinkle. ‘There’s no need to worry. Your sister will receive her birthday present in ample time.’

  Mrs Baldwin shook her head, her expression etched with anxiety. ‘But if Margery receives it even a day late, she will—’

  ‘You have my word.’ Louise gently gripped the older woman’s elbow and firmly, but comfortingly, deposited Mrs Baldwin onto the cobbled street outside. ‘All will be well.’

  With a swift wave, Louise closed the door and returned to Esther’s side.

  ‘That woman will send me to an early grave, I swear.’

  Esther laughed. ‘I thought she’d never leave.’

  ‘Now…’ Louise walked behind the counter and leaned her hands on the dark wood. ‘What can I get for you?’

  ‘Could I have some stamps and three small envelopes, please? I have so much correspondence to sort out for Aunt Mary. I really must get on with it this evening.’

  ‘And how is your aunt?’

  Esther sighed. ‘The usual. Moody, miserable and moaning.’

  Louise smiled. ‘And is she all that’s bothering you? You seemed so agitated at the last Society meeting.’

  ‘I was, but, unfortunately, I really don’t have time to talk about it now.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall behind Louise. ‘I must get to work.’

  ‘Two minutes, Esther. I don’t like to see you unhappy.’

  Esther sighed and slumped her shoulders. ‘I’m just becoming more and more exasperated that our efforts to obtain the vote remain fruitless. Our peaceful campaigning doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. I can’t help but wonder whether the suffragettes’ militant action isn’t only the correct path but the right way forward, if women are ever to be heard.’

  Louise frowned, concern shadowing her dark brown eyes. ‘We are getting somewhere. We have more and more women joining the Society and last week’s petition was attended by double the number of spectators than we’ve ever had before. You must keep faith that we’ll triumph.’

  ‘And I’m trying.’ Esther stepped away from the counter, sliding the rolled and bound poster designs she’d worked on the night before beneath her arm. ‘I’m just so frustrated.’

  ‘We all are, but we’ll see this through.’ Louise tilted her head towards Esther’s posters. ‘Make the final touches as we’ve discussed, and we’ll present them to the others at the next meeting. We’ll see victory, Esther. I know we will.’

  Esther stared at her friend as doubt wound through her, but Louise was right. Losing faith would do no good at all. They had to stay positive and committed. Only time and dedication could change the status quo. ‘You’re right. Belief is key.’ With a firm nod, Esther turned to the door. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  Leaving the post office, she walked through the alleyway and along the street until she reached Milsom Street. As Esther walked, heedless to the rows of shops either side of her, a gust of the May wind jolted her from her preoccupation and Esther slapped her hand to her hat. ‘Ooh!’

  A little boy beside her giggled, his hand grasped in his mother’s as they passed by. Esther laughed and tipped him a wink, the brief exchange dousing a little of her mental frustration. Quickening her pace, she strode towards Pennington’s, Bath’s premier department store and her treasured place of work.

  At least she had the love of her occupation to hold close. She had to count her blessings. Had to believe that being banished by her father from her childhood home, because of her involvement in the Cause, no longer affected her. She had been, and would always remain, staunchly determined to continue the suffrage work her mother had involved Esther in since a young age.

  When her mother had passed, Esther’s father had mistakenly believed his
daughter would give up the fight.

  How very wrong he had been.

  Now, thanks to the poison Esther’s stepmother had slowly dripped into her father’s ear, Esther found herself living away from her familial home in the Cotswolds and, instead, in the centre of Bath with her aunt. Although Aunt Mary certainly sided with her brother and his new wife about Esther’s activities, at least she had somewhere to stay and was now more active than ever as a member of a bigger and more determined suffragist group.

  She hurried along the street, passing stalls selling flowers, fruit and vegetables, as she made her way through the slowly increasing crowds. Inhaling the scents of horses and petrol as carriages and shiny, new motorcars swept by, Esther took little notice of the goings-on around her, her mind so full of thoughts and distraction.

  There had to be more the Society could do. Anticipation her fellow campaigners might support her new poster designs, not to mention other strategies she’d put forward, gave Esther a much-needed injection of hope, but it still wasn’t enough. Again and again, they acknowledged her creative talent. Had even commented that her position as head window dresser at Pennington’s could serve them well in the fight. But there had to be more she could do.

  Nerves leapt in Esther’s stomach as she battled her guilt over the growing temptation to leave the suffragist group and join the suffragettes. The differences between peaceful campaigning versus militant meant publicity for the Cause was becoming feverish. Her allegiance to the Society, and her fellow campaigners’ approval of her enrolment, meant she had finally found her true place in the world. That she was valued and needed. But she could not allow their lack of progress to assuage the fire that burned deep inside of her.

  The familiar heat of possibility inched into her veins and Esther stood a little taller as the mammoth shadow of Pennington’s Department Store touched the tips of her booted toes. She neared the building, the mid-morning sun teasing her senses with the promise of summer.

  Esther breathed deep and stared at Pennington’s façade. Painted entirely white, with two tall columns flanking the gilded double doors, Bath’s finest department store stretched to five storeys and encompassed everything a consumer could wish for.

  From hats and gloves, to jewellery, toys and perfume, Pennington’s was a store that inspired and influenced. A promised land where people from every walk of life came to shop, take lunch and socialise.

  Straightening the lapels of her uniform jacket, Esther hoped her appearance wasn’t below par. For over a year, Pennington’s had prided itself on its new staff uniforms and the unity of everyone who worked there. As head of a small team of four women and three men, Esther liked to think the pride Elizabeth Pennington had in the dressers’ department was justified.

  Esther stepped forward… only to stop again.

  A man stood in front of one of the store windows with a little girl and, judging by the scowl on the girl’s face and the exasperation on the man’s, father and daughter were in the throes of debate.

  ‘But, Daddy, I want the cricket set. Please!’

  ‘Why don’t I buy you the doll? And, if you don’t like it, we can change it for the cricket set another day.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Dolls are for girls, Rose. Cricket sets for boys.’

  Esther narrowed her eyes as she approached them and the young boy, standing a little to the side, who she assumed to be the man’s son. The little boy bounced a ball against a paddle, seemingly oblivious to the redness of his father’s and sister’s combative faces. The man held his daughter’s hand while pointing towards one of Pennington’s huge picture windows. The colourful and flamboyant toy display beyond had been erected by Esther and her team just a few days before. She stopped beside them, clutching her handbag in tightened fingers. Rightly or wrongly, she could not walk away from the gentleman’s clear fault in the argument. ‘Excuse me?’

  The man straightened, and Esther resisted the urge to step back. He towered over her by at least six inches, his broad shoulders only accentuating his physical dominance over her petite five feet four inches and, some might say, too slender frame.

  Forcing a smile, she pushed down her irritation, all too aware she represented Pennington’s and rudeness to a potential customer was always to be avoided. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your words to your daughter.’

  His bright blue gaze bored into hers. ‘And?’

  ‘And I don’t believe it’s anyone’s place to say what another person should prefer, whether adult or child, male or female.’

  He arched an eyebrow, the exasperation in his eyes softening to amusement, which only hitched Esther’s temper higher. Her smile faltered as she struggled to maintain a semblance of pleasantness.

  ‘I see.’ He slid his hand onto his daughter’s shoulder, her hair shining in a sheet of glossy brown down her back. Esther noted it was the exact same colour as her father’s, which peeked from beneath the edges of his hat. ‘Rose is something of a conundrum. Yesterday, dolls were her favourite thing in the whole world, today it’s cricket. As for Nathanial here…’ He touched the little boy’s head. ‘Yesterday he was convinced the sky was always only blue. Whereas today, it’s blue and grey.’

  Esther lifted her chin. ‘That is neither here nor there. If your children—’

  ‘Are you a mother, Mrs…?’

  She almost corrected his presumption of her marital status but quickly snapped her mouth closed. He had no need to know her title or name. He had no need to know anything about her. ‘I’m not, but I know the importance of choice as well as anyone.’

  ‘Yet how would you understand a confrontation between parent and child when you have merely caught the briefest of moments in what has been an argument lasting…’ He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat. ‘Fifteen minutes.’

  Esther held his frustratingly calm gaze and fought to muster her wavering confidence. His impertinent question regarding her maternal status had thrown her from the subject, but he was right to question her. What did she really know of children? Of parenting?

  Heat crept into her cheeks, but she stood firm as she turned her attention to his daughter rather than her imperviously forthright father. ‘Do I find myself standing in front of a keen cricketer?’ Esther beamed at the little girl who grinned back. ‘Could you be the first young lady to join the men at the Oval?’

  The little girl giggled as she sidled closer to her father, her head bobbing up and down.

  Esther laughed before addressing the little boy. ‘And I agree, the sky is most definitely blue and grey.’

  The boy flashed an impish grin and Esther straightened, glancing at their father. Her smile vanished at the intense way the gentleman studied her.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Your children are delightful, sir. I would just like certain people to see that it’s important every human being, no matter how young, is allowed the liberty of choice.’

  His gaze lingered on hers until he blinked and looked along the street as though bored by her conversation. ‘I see.’

  Esther glared at his profile before remembering his children watched her. She forced a tight smile. ‘I can’t imagine your wife would approve of you encouraging such a division in your children.’

  He stilled, before facing her, his blue eyes wholly darker than they’d been before. ‘My wife?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Your wife. Is it not enough that women are forced to fight for a position in the world without—’

  ‘We’re discussing a doll and cricket set. Hardly an argument for or against women’s suffrage.’ Two spots of angry colour now darkened his cheeks. ‘That’s what you’re referring to, correct?’

  Esther swallowed and glanced at his children before tilting her chin at their father. ‘Not in this instance.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s just as well.’ He glanced along the street. ‘As an active suffragist supporter myself, I really wouldn’t appreciate you
casting aspersions without knowing me.’

  Surprised, she lowered her tense shoulders. ‘You support the Cause?’

  He faced her. ‘I do and have for many months.’

  Her heart quickened, and she turned away from his penetrating gaze. So, he was one of the men supporting the women in their fight, that did not mean he could hoodwink his daughter into convention.

  ‘Well, as pleased as I am to hear that, sir, we clearly have a long way to go with regards to gender equality. The Cause is just one aspect of women’s rights that needs to change. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Indeed, I would. I imagine the fight to close the avenue between the sexes will be an ongoing one for many years to come.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She looked at the young girl and smiled. ‘Do you think we’ve persuaded your father you should have the cricket set?’

  His daughter shook her head, but her eyes shone with mischief. ‘Daddy is stubborn.’

  Trying not to laugh, Esther nodded. ‘Yes, I believe he is.’

  The gentleman coughed.

  Esther faced him, disconcerted by the unexpected softness that had replaced the defiance in his eyes. ‘Well, it seems you have found a friend in Rose, if nothing else.’

  ‘Yes, I think you could be right.’ She smiled at his daughter, delighting in her happy gaze, before she turned to the little boy. ‘And I have in you, too, I hope?’

  He nodded, his smile impossibly enchanting.

  Their father cleared his throat. ‘But, new friends or not, that doesn’t mean I’ll weaken in my decision about what to buy them.’

  Of all the obstinate… She pointed to the window. ‘This display was purposely designed to amalgamate children’s interests and tastes. Do you see nothing is segregated? Nothing clearly marked as boys’ toys versus girls?’

  His gaze momentarily dropped to her mouth in such intense study further heat flared in her cheeks. The man had an unnerving way of examining a person. As though he could look at her and see something beyond what she presented to him. It was annoying. Supremely annoying.