Page 30 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

Cornelia sat in the passenger seat of Lawrence’s sleek, gun-metal grey motor car, speeding away from Bath towards Oxfordshire. Even though Christmas Day drew ever closer, all Lawrence and Esther could think of or discuss was the fundraiser ball at The Phoenix this coming Saturday. Not that Cornelia blamed them. It was a huge coup for women’s suffrage, a campaign so close to Esther’s heart, and she was incredibly disappointed she wouldn’t be able to attend.

She looked across at her brother. ‘How is Esther? I know she’s thrilled by the response to the ball but upset that she won’t be there.’

‘She is, but relieved that her friend and fellow suffragist Louise will manage things.’ Lawrence steered the car past a horse and cart carrying some milk churns. ‘There will be suffragettes at the ball, too, but I trust they’ll not think a ball an ideal opportunity for militant action.’

Cornelia grimaced, as apprehension rippled through her. Ever since the divorce, the idea of her own mortality had preyed on her mind. She was, in effect, her children’s only parent now. ‘Surely nothing of a violent nature will occur?’

‘We can only hope. The Cause remains a huge issue while parliament stubbornly refuses to even discuss a bill, let alone make steps towards giving women the vote. I fear the campaigning could go on for years, which means more militant action.’

Cornelia stared ahead as Stephen came into her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had been present during any of the suffragette demonstrations in London. The newspapers had shown a lot of photographs depicting the violence and police intervention, but she wasn’t sure Scotland Yard dealt with that sort of thing.

‘It might be beneficial to have a police constable at the ball,’ she mused. ‘Just in case.’ When Lawrence didn’t answer, Cornelia glanced at him. ‘Lawrence?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You are really quite taken by Mr Gower, aren’t you?’

Warmth seeped into her cheeks even as she lifted her chin. ‘Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. He’s interesting. Intelligent. Even a little mysterious. All things that appeal to me.’

‘You find mystery appealing? Isn’t it better for friends to show openness and integrity?’

‘He does. I just mean I’m convinced there’s more to him. More I’d like to learn. I sense he carries things that have hurt him deeply. Maybe those things are why he left the force.’ A desire to defend Stephen rose inside her. ‘Maybe even made him seek a different life. A quieter life. Lord knows, I understand that more than most.’

Lawrence glanced at her. ‘Do you have a romantic interest in him, by any chance? Don’t you think it’s a little soon after David to be thinking of stepping out with someone else?’

Cornelia laughed, although secretly delighted her brother should even contemplate her stepping out. ‘Too soon? My goodness, you really have no idea how long I’ve endured a loveless marriage, have you? But, actually, romance is not on my mind.’ She shrugged, hoping she was being convincing. ‘It is Mr Gower’s intellect and company I enjoy. Nothing more.’

‘For the moment.’

She shot him a mock glare, relieved that they were approaching the home she and the children had once shared with David. A beautiful, yet modest house that would have suited her for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, the house would now forever remind her of arguments, accusations and violence.

When they had returned to The Circus after the court hearing, she had been braced for Lawrence’s fury at the sufferings she’d concealed during her marriage, but he’d surprised her. His rage was clear in his tense shoulders and pale face, but he hadn’t admonished nor blamed her. Instead, he’d taken Cornelia in his arms, kissed her hair and promised to be there for the rest of hers and the children’s lives.

Now, tears pricked her eyes as she studied his turned cheek, her heart swelling with love for a man who had known violence at his father’s hands throughout childhood and adolescence.

As though Lawrence sensed her watching him, he turned and smiled, his eyes happy.

Cornelia returned his smile. Reassured by his insistence that he accompany her today, but praying David had kept his promise to stay away.

Lawrence pulled the car up outside the house and Cornelia stepped out, staring up at the house. Even the wisteria climbing around the door and the small fountain in the garden did nothing to raise her wavering spirits. Her strength faltered as realisation of her uncertain future set in. Who knew what road she and the children would take now? There had been a time when she’d thought herself building a family home, a sense of security and peace for Albert and Francis.

Now, she had no idea what she could give them.

Sadness threatened, and Cornelia squared her shoulders, purposefully burying her melancholy. ‘Right, let’s get started, shall we? The sooner I pick up the things the boys and I want, the sooner we can return to Bath.’

She walked ahead of Lawrence and unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, she strode through the hallway towards the kitchen, resolutely refusing to linger over the sentimental pictures and knick-knacks scattered around the small space.

‘Put the boxes from the car by the stairs, Lawrence. I’ll put the kettle on. I’m sure we’ll welcome a cup of tea before the journey home.’

Cornelia walked into the kitchen that had once felt so homely but now echoed with a cold and sombre emptiness. When tears burned behind her eyes, she quickly lifted the kettle, before taking some matches from the shelf above the stove. She lit the burner, fighting the feelings of failure that pressed down on her.

Turning, she found Lawrence carefully watching her, his brow furrowed.

She forced a smile. ‘What?’

‘You have tears in your eyes.’

She blew out the match with a firm puff. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Now, why don’t you take a seat while I go upstairs and collect our things? I won’t be long.’

‘Do you need any help?’ He glanced around him. ‘I am more than happy to—’

‘Not at all. Take the weight off your feet. I’ll be as quick as a flash.’

Cornelia left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Running her hands over the wallpaper, she slowly walked along the narrow landing and entered her and David’s bedroom. The floral wallpaper and soft pink curtains reminded her of her excitement when she had chosen the room’s decoration. She and David had been so happy then, newly married and looking forward to an unknown future.

Or had it just been her full of romantic anticipation? Had David known, deep in his heart, he would never truly love her… never remain true?

Swallowing against the bitterness that rose in her throat, Cornelia quickly retrieved three dresses from the wardrobe and draped them over her arm before grabbing a pair of black shoes.

Keeping her eyes forward, so as not to be tempted to pick up any trinkets that once meant something to her, she left the room and firmly closed the door on her old life.

She quickly walked into the boys’ rooms, her heart aching as memories of them as infants and toddlers assaulted her, painfully poking and prodding at her emotions and conscience. How had it all come to this?

As sadness gripped her harder, she angrily swiped at her tears.

David had, at first, wanted the house for himself, but the moment Sophie Hughes’s father bestowed a fine property in Colerne on them, David had registered the Oxfordshire house for sale.

Although initially shocked and upset by his announcement the house was to be sold, Cornelia now welcomed the decision. She did not want to even envisage trying to start again in this house with the boys. How on earth would they ever be happy with David’s ghost lingering in every room?

She walked from her sons’ bedrooms, clutching some toys and a spare set of shoes for each of them, silently vowing that one day she would have a house of her own.

When Cornelia returned to the kitchen, Lawrence had laid out a teapot, cups and saucers on the table.

‘Ah, there you are.’ He smiled. ‘Tea?’

Cornelia nodded. ‘Lovely.’

But he didn’t move to lift the teapot and, instead, rubbed absently at a spot on the table.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked quietly, as she sat. ‘You seem preoccupied.’

He lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Esther spoke to Elizabeth this morning. She learned a little about Joseph Carter’s first wife.’

‘Oh? I had every intention of speaking to Elizabeth tomorrow.’ She poured the tea and pushed a cup in front of him. ‘What did she say?’

‘Well, even though Elizabeth continues to be very distressed by the situation, I think it’s a good sign that she’s opening up to Esther. I hope that you and Mr Gower can act on the information now that Esther is unable to. No harm must come to her or the baby, Cornelia. I couldn’t stand it. Or anything happening to you, for that matter.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll be fine, and so will Esther and the baby. I will ensure Mr Gower shares everything he learns with me, but I won’t put myself in any physical danger. He’s already insisted on as much. I just want to be able put Elizabeth and Esther’s minds at rest.’

‘Do you really think he will be willing to share everything with you?’

‘I do. We’ve struck up a friendship and I know he understands what finding Lillian’s killer means. Stephen is a good man. He’ll not want Elizabeth and Joseph to suffer any longer than necessary.’

‘But, if you’re wrong and—’

‘I’m not.’ She touched his face with her hand. ‘I know how much you love your family. I want to do this for you and Esther more than anything. I’m confident I can help.’

‘Fine. Then let me share with you what Elizabeth told Esther.’ He took a sip of his tea, the cup slightly rattling when he lowered it to its saucer. ‘Lillian Carter had been the love of Joseph’s life. He adored her just as she did him. After a short courtship, they were married and Lillian moved in with Joseph above the Carters’ small drapery Joseph ran with his father on Pulteney Bridge.

‘They were deeply in love and running a business that both Joseph and his father cared about deeply. It wasn’t until the business began to struggle that Joseph came to Pennington’s, looking for his designs to be sold there.’ He waved his hand. ‘Sorry, I’m digressing. Anyway, Lillian and Joseph often took baskets of food, blankets and knitted hats, gloves and socks to the poor by the river. One night, when Joseph was unable to accompany her, Lillian was attacked and killed there.’ Anger shadowed his gaze. ‘Joseph has never forgiven himself and vowed not to rest until her killer is brought to justice. That was five years ago and still this animal hasn’t been found.’

Cornelia shook her head. ‘It’s just too awful that such despair continues to shroud Joseph. Clearly, the latest murder was what pushed him to ask Mr Gower for help.’

‘Joseph’s convinced the killer is the same person who murdered Lillian and refuses to move forward with Elizabeth until he is found. He won’t even think about starting a family until justice has been done.’

‘Poor Elizabeth, but I understand Joseph, too. How can he even begin to think about bringing a child into the world when he’s living with such horrible guilt?’

‘Exactly.’

Fear about what she would soon become embroiled in now began to grip Cornelia, making her wonder if she had the strength to see through her promise to Esther. Maybe Stephen’s and Lawrence’s fears for her were warranted. Maybe she shouldn’t be getting mixed up in something she wasn’t equipped to deal with. Murder. A killer. Darkened alleyways and streets. She had to think of her children. But how could she fail Esther?

She worried at her bottom lip. She had to tell Stephen everything Lawrence had told her and hope the information led him to uncovering something – anything.

Draining her cup, she held Lawrence’s stare. ‘Leave this with me. I’ll speak to Mr Gower first thing in the morning.’ She squeezed her brother’s fingers. ‘Nothing and no one will stop us from bringing this faceless murderer to justice.’