Page 20 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)
Smiling to herself, Cornelia walked along one of Bath’s many parades and through a darkened passageway that opened onto a small courtyard. When she’d suggested Mrs Margate’s tea shop for her meeting with Stephen, she’d delighted in telling him that some of the houses surrounding the small shop dated back to the 1500s, one being home to a famous baker and his family. Although Stephen had appeared slightly bemused, his willingness to help scattered her embarrassment.
She took a moment to appreciate her surroundings. As well as the homes, bakery and Mrs Margate’s tea shop, two archways stood on either side of the courtyard, the passages leading to opposite ends of the city. Some young trees and shrubbery adorned the centre of the space, with three benches around its circumference, where people sat talking, reading or watching the world go by.
Approaching the small, cottage-style tea shop, Cornelia studied the bay window framed with checked drapes, the painted metal sign swinging to and fro in the light wind and the closed door with an ‘open’ sign hanging behind the glass. A safe, welcoming place where she hoped she’d be able to speak frankly without sending Stephen running for the hills.
Taking a strengthening breath, she pushed open the door and a bell tinkled her arrival.
Easing the door closed, she scanned the interior. Every table was occupied, including those close to a gently burning fire in a large open hearth.
‘Miss Culford?’
Stephen had risen from a table at the back of the room, his smile warm and, judging by the way he waved, he was happy to see her.
Her confidence buoyed, Cornelia returned his smile. ‘Mr Gower.’ She weaved between the tables and stopped at his table. ‘Thank you for coming.’
He pulled out her seat. ‘Of course.’
‘Thank you. After…’ She glanced around them and sat. ‘What I told you about myself and how you so kindly listened this morning, I think we’ve earned the right to rid ourselves of formalities, don’t you? Please, call me Cornelia.’
He sat. ‘Cornelia, it is. And Stephen, from now on. However, you should know your situation neither alarms nor shocks me.’
A blush warmed her cheeks as his soft gaze lingered on hers before she abruptly picked up the menu. Tall and broad, with dark hair and neatly trimmed moustache, he really was most handsome. As for his deep brown eyes… Well, they were just dangerous.
She slowly raised her eyes. ‘Have you chosen what you’d like? I insist you allow me to treat you.’
He carefully studied her, before dipping his head and taking the menu. He perused the offerings. ‘Coffee and a slice of lemon sponge, I think.’
She smiled. ‘Lovely, and I’ll have tea and some jam sponge.’
A young girl came to their table, smartly attired in a black dress with a ruffled white collar and cuffs and a clean apron tied at her waist. ‘Good afternoon. What would you like today?’
Cornelia tried and failed to drag her gaze from Stephen as he reiterated her order and placed his own. He finished with a kind smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll be right back with your tea and coffee.’
As the waitress retreated, Cornelia inhaled. ‘I’m so grateful you’re willing to listen to my troubles. I felt prepared for the hearing until David, that’s my husband, said he wanted the children. Now I feel woefully unprepared and, quite frankly, terrified he’ll triumph.’ The words tumbled from her mouth, as if she’d carefully rehearsed what she would say when she and Stephen met.
He leaned his elbows on the table, linking his fingers and laying them barely inches from hers on the lace tablecloth. ‘Cornelia, I first must ask you a difficult question. One I take no pleasure in.’
Dread coiled in her stomach. ‘Yes?’
His gaze remained steady on hers. ‘Does your husband have reason, any reason at all, to believe his counsel has inarguable justification he should be sole guardian to your children?’
Pride swelled inside her, evoking her need to blurt every sin David had committed and how she’d done nothing to provoke his treatment of her. She stifled a protest as anger rose that she had to answer such a question; that she had to prove herself a fit parent when David was so profoundly unfit. If she reacted emotionally instead of rationally, she knew it would only make her ill-equipped for the hearing. Lawrence had counselled the need to remain calm and composed at all times, and that was exactly how she would be now.
She lifted her chin. ‘No. He has no reason whatsoever. I was a good wife to him and remain a good mother to my children.’
‘Then why does he look to take them away from you?’ His gaze softened. ‘What are their names, by the way?’
Her strength faltered under his gentle tone. ‘Alfred and Francis. They are eight and six.’
He smiled. ‘A handful, no doubt?’
‘Sometimes, yes, but also the loves of my life.’
The waitress returned and placed tea and coffee pots on the table, turning over the cups already laid in their saucers. ‘Here you go, sir, madam. I’ll be straight back with your cakes.’
She walked away, and Stephen cleared his throat. ‘I assumed when you approached me for advice that your husband had a basis for his claim to your sons.’
‘I have no idea what David has planned, which is the reason I am so terrified. Our marriage went from amicable, to tolerated, to downright resented. By both of us.’ Her hands trembled as she lifted the coffee pot and filled his cup. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
He shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’
She silently willed him to ask another question, but the ensuing silence made it clear he wouldn’t until she spoke further. How could she have expected he’d be any different? He was an ex-police sergeant. A man used to exercising patience, listening and making people talk, persuading them into confessing things they would prefer to keep buried. Her vulnerability threatened to sabotage her courage, but she had to push on for Alfred and Francis. She could not lose them.
After she’d poured her tea, added milk and sugar, she forced herself to meet Stephen’s gaze. ‘David has been having an affair for several years. An affair I discovered, and which he told me was over. I believed him but soon uncovered it had neither ended nor lapsed at any time. I told him I wanted a divorce and he laughed but did not contest it. I thought everything would be done and over with cleanly and quickly. Until he told me he wanted the children.’
Deep concern burned in his dark brown eyes. ‘So, you want my advice on the best chance to swing the judge’s decision in your favour?’ He exhaled heavily. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ Disappointment dropped like a stone into her stomach. ‘You think the judge will rule for David? He’ll take the children?’
The urge to stand and shout at Stephen that he was wrong swept through her. David would not take the children. Would not ruin her life when she’d finally found the courage and strength to leave him, to move them to a new city so she could raise Alfred and Francis with standards and morals that surpassed her husband’s in every way.
‘Cornelia.’ He gently covered her hand on the table. ‘I said sorry, because if you want your children, you’re going to have to fight for them. With everything you have in your arsenal. Affairs happen. Husbands and wives cheat as though they are the only people their behaviour affects. That is neither true nor acceptable. As a policeman, I have seen…’ His jaw tightened. ‘So much hurt, spite and anger thrown between two people who are meant to love one another. Marriages that were arranged. Marriages that were forsaken and abused. Marriages…’
A shadow fell across the table, and he abruptly pulled his hand from hers. His expression transformed when he smiled at the waitress.
‘Your cakes, sir and madam. Is there anything else I can get for you?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘No, thank you.’
They answered in unison and tension filled the air. Cornelia had no idea how to dispel it. For months, she’d known the gravity of the situation she faced, but to hear Stephen speak with such passion – such truth – had thrown her into a whole new sphere of panic.
The waitress retreated, and Cornelia fought to calm her racing heart. If she wanted Stephen’s help and experience, she had to be entirely honest with him. Reveal every skeleton in her closet. Did she really think she wouldn’t have to make the abuse she’d suffered public? Her divorce was a fight to the bitter end and she had to use everything she had to keep Alfred and Francis safe and happy.
She swallowed. ‘Past indignities make me reluctant to share what needs to be made public. To have my brother and his wife hear of what I endured…’ Tears pricked her eyes. ‘I really want there to be another way, but I know, deep inside, telling the judge everything is exactly what I have to do.’
Stephen’s gaze grew intense on hers. ‘Which is?’
‘David hit me. He hit me many, many times.’