Page 3 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)
Cornelia drew a feather duster from beneath Pennington’s jewellery counter and flicked it over one tray and then another, her mind barely at work, instead lingering over her upcoming court hearing. The letter she’d received from David that morning burned like a smouldering ember in her pocket. Despite her anger, she kept her smile firmly in place and quietly hummed as though all was right in her fragile world.
She’d never told anyone, including Lawrence, about the physical assaults David had inflicted upon her during their worst confrontations. Her pride and shame had been enough to prevent her sharing her sufferings, but, more importantly, she had absolutely no wish to deepen her brother’s anguish. David’s infidelity and betrayal had been more than enough to provoke Lawrence’s protective temper without drawing him to remember their father’s cruelty towards him.
Her secrecy had been all well and good when David hadn’t contested the divorce, but now he’d mentioned custody of the children, she wondered whether revealing his mistreatment towards her might thwart his intentions. Divorces were more likely to be granted on grounds more suited to the husband than the wife, but maybe David’s violence could come to serve her rather than shame her.
He had written that he had every intention of marrying Sophie Hughes as soon as legally possible. They planned for the wedding to take place on the sixth of April next year and would then take their honeymoon on the maiden voyage of RMS Titanic bound for America. The gaiety and spite in his words were almost certainly Sophie’s embellishment.
Cornelia snatched a cleaning cloth from beneath the counter and attacked the countertop with gusto. She had no need to know their plans when David hadn’t as much as asked how Alfred and Francis were. Why should she wish him well when her bitterness was still so raw, so all-encompassing?
‘Ah, Cornelia.’ Her supervisor, Mrs Hampton, strode towards her. ‘I need you to check on an order for me. It seems the loading department has a discrepancy and, as you put the order through, you’re the best person to resolve the issue.’
Worry immediately struck Cornelia. Pennington’s had been a huge avenue to buoying her confidence and fear of losing her position sharply rose. She’d only been working here a couple of months, which made her position precarious. Especially considering all her other skills lay in the running of an estate. Who else would employ her if she left Pennington’s without a decent reference? She straightened her shoulders. ‘Of course. Can I ask who the order was for and when it was placed?’
Mrs Hampton lifted a ledger onto the counter. ‘It was a bracelet you boxed a couple of days ago. The delivery was to be made the same day, but somehow it was noted that it was to go out tomorrow. Do you remember which day Mrs Bainsbridge requested?’
Cornelia frowned. She remembered the bossy, toffee-nosed Mrs Bainsbridge only too well. ‘I do. In fact, I remember following her every word as she chopped and changed her mind about products and delivery times. I am one hundred per cent certain I placed the order as she instructed.’
Mrs Hampton nodded, her gaze on the ledger. ‘Hmm, I don’t doubt you are right. Mrs Bainsbridge is a loyal Pennington’s customer, but she can be most trying at times.’ She smiled. ‘Speak to Mr Marshall in the loading bay and ask that the delivery is made a priority. I will forewarn Mr Carter or Miss Pennington, in the event Mrs Bainbridge finds it necessary to complain.’
Dread knotted Cornelia’s stomach. ‘You think Mrs Bainbridge would go to the store managers about this?’
‘Anything is possible, unfortunately. We must prepare ourselves for all things. Customer service and satisfaction are Pennington’s priority. Always.’
Cornelia swallowed. ‘Absolutely. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
She hurried onto the shop floor, heading for the loading bay situated at the back of the building. She smiled and nodded at the hatted men and women customers as she walked, her shoulders high with a dignity that came from being dressed in Pennington’s distinct winter uniform... even if her stomach wouldn’t cease churning with uncertainty.
David’s letter crackled against her thigh as her long skirt swished around her ankles and her heeled boots tip-tapped against the marble floor. She was determined to look only to the future. David could do as he pleased. He would not win custody of the children. Nothing he did or said would affect her. Not any more.
She gasped and drew to an abrupt stop as a man walked backwards into her path, seemingly oblivious to her presence or anyone else’s.
Not wanting the broad and exceptionally tall gentleman to step on her toes, she shot out her hand and pressed it firmly against his back. ‘Excuse me, sir.’ The man turned, and Cornelia smiled. ‘Did you not see me?’
He immediately stepped back. ‘I beg your pardon, Ma’am. I was watching the door and didn’t see you there.’
‘And nor will you see anybody if you continue to walk backwards.’
He dipped his head. ‘Indeed. I apologise.’
‘Apology accepted.’ She ran her gaze over his uniform. ‘Oh, do you work here?’
‘I do.’ The man offered her his hand. ‘Stephen Gower. Nice to meet you.’
Cornelia slid her hand into his and the breadth of his fingers covered hers completely. ‘Cornelia Park… Culford. Miss.’
‘Park-Culford? That’s an unusual—’
‘A slip of the tongue. My surname is Culford.’
His deep, dark brown eyes travelled over her face before he nodded. ‘Culford.’
‘Yes.’ Cornelia looked to the main entrance. ‘I must go. I have an errand in the loading bay.’
‘Very well. It was nice meeting you.’
She stepped forward and then stopped again, her curiosity sparked by the quiet study in his eyes. She turned. ‘You’re new here, are you not?’
‘I am. I started as a security watchman just this morning. I hope you’ll forgive my nearly trampling you. I’m still familiarising myself with the store, its staff and customers, and breaking a lady’s toes is hardly the best way to go about it.’
Cornelia smiled, consoled that she wasn’t the only one overawed by Pennington’s size and reputation. ‘Well, good luck, because I’ve been here a little over two months, and some days I find myself as unfamiliar with the workings of the store as I was on my very first day.’
‘That’s good to know, although as security I need to make sure I get a handle on things quicker than most.’
Cornelia studied him as he surveyed the bustling area around them. His dark hair was almost the same shade of brown as his eyes, his jaw as finely shaped as his mouth.
Once again, he offered her his hand. ‘Well, I should get on. It was nice meeting you.’
She forced herself to hold his gaze. David always hated her conversing with other men and his long-reaching dominance continued to linger no matter how much she might hate it. It was rousing to fight back. ‘You have a natural authority about you, Mr Gower. I don’t doubt you will excel in your role here. Welcome to the Pennington’s team. I wish you every happiness in your work.’
He slowly drew his hand from hers as his gaze darkened with unease.
Cornelia frowned. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all. Goodbye, Miss Culford.’
She opened her mouth to halt him, but, with four strides of his long legs, Stephen Gower was swallowed up in Pennington’s crowds.
‘Well,’ Cornelia murmured. ‘What a strange man.’
Shaking her head, she walked beneath a Christmas garland of holly, ivy and tiny, sparkling sequins arched over the store’s double doors and tried to embrace a little of the season’s joy, but even with a light snow falling outside, nothing helped.