Page 37 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

A few days later, Cornelia stood in Pennington’s atrium and clapped along with the rest of the staff, as Elizabeth finished her motivational speech, which concluded with a small, wrapped gift and a Christmas bonus for all.

The atmosphere inside the store crackled with seasonal festivity and Cornelia took a deep breath of satisfaction as she watched her employers leave their places on the grand staircase and head to the upper floors.

But, as the staff dispersed, concern shrouded Cornelia’s brief happiness.

Despite the bravado in front of their staff, Elizabeth and Joseph suffered an ongoing pain that had hovered over them for the entirety of their romance. A lingering ghost of a murdered wife. The loss of a woman who had meant so much to Joseph and, it seemed, many others. Something that, until resolved, would never leave a young and in-love couple to pursue a potentially wonderful future.

She glanced at her watch. Her final shift before her break for the holidays had come to an end and it was time to head home to pack, in preparation for the family’s departure to Culford Manor.

Unfortunately, the prospect failed to fill her with happy anticipation. The only positive aspect she looked forward to was that Stephen would be there. A man she had to be careful not to fall in love with. He seemed to be avoiding her since their kiss. If she were to rush headlong into matters of the heart, she would be hurt again, and she could not allow that to happen when Alfred and Francis seemed, at last, better settled.

She glanced around and spotted Stephen talking to a middle-aged couple, his expression serious, as it always was whilst at work. Her body burned with treacherous attraction as she studied the fall of his dark hair, his firm, chiselled jaw and imposing physique.

How was she to keep a hold of the emotions tumbling through her when she’d seen a different side of him? A side that hummed with sensuality, strength and excitement, and showed just how committed and passionate a man lurked beneath his professional surface. A side that drew her like a magnet and made her ache with wanting each night as she lay alone in bed.

He waved the customers farewell.

Their gazes met.

She tentatively smiled and he winked.

Her smile widened, before she walked across the marble floor, towards the corridor that led to the staff quarters. She should be ashamed that his brief acknowledgement gave her such a ridiculous amount of pleasure. It was important that she held on to her newly won independence.

Yet, when she looked at Stephen, it wasn’t independence she desired, but unity. Partnership. Two people who understood one another’s pain, hopes and dreams and would work together to achieve happiness.

A connection with a man of her own choosing. Not that of her parents’.

A man she’d found and come to deeply care for, quickly and without negotiation, effort or cajoling.

Yet, fear struck like ice in her heart.

If she were to make a second mistake and expose her children to a man who might one day walk away, they would never forgive her, and she would never forgive herself. What if she’d made a huge mistake inviting Stephen to Culford? What if she had allowed Elizabeth and Joseph’s sufferings to fade into insignificance beside those of her own wretched heart?

No. She would not think that way.

Stephen was a good man. A man who cared about her and seemed to have her boys’ welfare at heart. He was not David.

Taking her coat and hat from her locker, she quickly put them on before pulling out her purse. She hurried along the corridor and out of the staff exit at the side of Pennington’s.

With just three days until Christmas, Bath’s streets were filled with the smells, sights and sounds of the season. The day’s earlier rain had stopped, leaving the paved streets glistening beneath the coloured lights spilling like glittering paint from lit shop windows.

‘Mistletoe for sale!’

‘Tuppence for a sprig of holly!’

‘Buy your baubles at half the price!’

The stallholders shouted their wares with jovial voices, the evening air filled with the scents of roasting chestnuts and burning firewood.

She couldn’t wait to wrap the gifts she’d hidden in her wardrobe and beneath the stairs at Lawrence’s house. Gifts purchased with her own earnings and the generous staff discount that Elizabeth Pennington had put into place the Christmas before. For Cornelia, this money had been a godsend. She wanted to do all she could not to rely on her inheritance. To live a life of her own making.

Turning into The Circus, she focused on the holly and ivy twisted around the railings in front of Lawrence’s house. The decorations were all thanks to Helen. Her brother’s trusted servant had been busier than ever with Esther bedridden, but not once had Helen lost her temper under pressure.

Everywhere Cornelia looked nowadays, she saw women who inspired her. That would not change when she returned to Culford. She would not allow Harriet or anyone else to undermine her ever again.

She entered the house and removed her hat and coat, hanging them on the stand in the hallway. Voices and laughter drifted downstairs from the nursery and her heart lifted as she realised that she wasn’t too late to kiss the children goodnight. Once again, Helen had earned her gratitude.

Hurrying upstairs, Cornelia pushed open the nursery door and peered inside.

Francis sat on the floor, his pleading gaze tilted towards Helen. ‘But Mama said we can go to bed half an hour later every night until Christmas Eve.’

Cornelia’s eyes widened at Francis’s impudence even as she bit back a smile. Slowly and silently, she pushed open the door, crossed her arms and feigned a glare. ‘I don’t remember saying any such thing, Francis George Parker.’

‘Mama!’

‘Aunt Cornelia!’

The children leapt to their feet, including a rather red-faced Francis, and buried their faces in her stomach. She clutched them tightly and smiled at Helen, who shook her head, pretty hazel eyes gleaming with affectionate amusement.

‘I think Francis will be quite the poker player when he’s grown, Miss Culford.’ Helen glanced at him. ‘He really has the most unnerving knack of making me doubt myself.’

Cornelia laughed, ruffling Francis’s hair as he gazed up at her with eyes as innocent as the day he was born. ‘Oh, don’t say that. The last thing I want for either of my sons is to frequent gambling halls. Now then, I think it’s time for bed, children. Helen has more than earned an early night.’

‘Oh, I’m quite happy to put them to bed.’

‘No, I insist. Go. Make your escape before it’s too late.’

Laughing, Helen nodded. ‘Fine. Then on your head be it. The children are as excitable as a cartload of monkeys.’

Once she’d closed the door behind Helen, Cornelia sank to the floor and the children sat in a circle around her. She looked in turn at Alfred, Francis, Rose and Nathaniel. ‘Now, in my purse, I have a small packet of liquorice for each of you.’

Their collective gasps filled the room and her heart.

‘But…’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You will only be given this special treat if you tidy the nursery, walk quietly to your bedrooms and get into your nightclothes.’

They nodded gravely, eyes glued to Cornelia and the purse on her lap.

‘I don’t want to hear a peep. I will come to your rooms in exactly fifteen minutes and I expect you to be sitting cross-legged on your bedroom carpet, backs straight and mouths open. Am I clear?’

Another round of nods.

‘Good. Then off you go.’

The children scattered, whispering and giggling, and Cornelia walked along the landing to Lawrence and Esther’s room.

She gently knocked on the door.

‘Come in.’

Cornelia entered to find her sister-in-law dressed in a lace nightgown, folding clothes and putting them in an open suitcase on the bed.

She immediately rushed forward and gently took Lawrence’s pullover from Esther’s hands. ‘What are you doing? You should be in bed.’

‘I should be no such thing. Doctor Rubinstein came by today and confirmed I am fit and well enough for gentle exertion and the trip to Oxfordshire.’ She took the garment from Cornelia, her eyes rimmed with fatigue but flashing with characteristic wilfulness. ‘And I’ll thank you to say as much to your brother, when he gets home.’

The look in Esther’s eyes was one Cornelia had learned to heed. She slowly sat on the bed. ‘I see. Lawrence is at the hotel?’

‘He is. I don’t expect him before I fall gratefully asleep, but…’ She closed the suitcase and locked it. ‘I am happy to have been of some use today, at least.’

The frustration in Esther’s tone was obvious and Cornelia reached out to take her hand, urging her to sit down.

Esther seemed to hesitate before she sank onto the bed and sighed. ‘Fine, I’m tired.’ She flashed a cheeky grin, her eyes sparkling with humour. ‘But not out. I am truly looking forward to spending Christmas at Culford. It’s a chance for us to all be together. Including Harriet. I’ve barely got to know her, despite being married to Lawrence for months now. I’m sure he’ll come to see the importance of being as close to her as he is to you.’

‘Of course, he will.’ Cornelia forced a smile, not entirely convinced that Lawrence would see anything worthwhile in the forthcoming trip. Harriet or no Harriet. ‘Has he voiced any more doubts?’

‘No, which is actually more worrying.’ Esther waved her hand. ‘But let’s not dwell on Lawrence right now. We will tackle him once we arrive at Culford.’ She squeezed Cornelia’s fingers. ‘The good thing is Elizabeth came by this afternoon and Joseph is happy to spend Christmas with us.’

‘He wasn’t to begin with?’

‘No, but once Elizabeth told him Mr Gower was joining us, Joseph perked up.’

Dread unfurled in Cornelia’s stomach. ‘He mustn’t pressure Stephen too much. I suspect that would be the very worst thing Joseph could do. He must trust Stephen.’

‘Oh, he does.’ Esther gave a firm nod, her eyes determined. ‘Elizabeth is not one to hold back and has laid down rules, which I suspect Joseph will be only too willing to obey, if it means he gets to talk to Mr Gower and spend time with the woman he loves. Now, how are you feeling about Christmas? Are you as unhappy as Lawrence about the manor house?’

‘Lawrence suffered a great deal more than me during our childhood.’ She drew a long breath. ‘I’m more fearful of spending time with Mr Gower than in the house, if I’m honest.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I…’ She looked into Esther’s concerned eyes, but confession of her feelings for Stephen stuck in Cornelia’s throat. It was too soon. Too silly. Too dangerous to share such things. She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘All will be well.’

‘Of course, it will. Mr Gower strikes Lawrence and me as a man of his word. Are we wrong?’

‘No. No, you’re not. Now…’ Cornelia stood. ‘I have four children who are waiting for sticks of liquorice.’

‘Sorry?’

Cornelia laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I have everything in hand.’

She walked to the door, feeling as though she had just lied to Esther in the biggest way possible.