Page 41 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)
The cab rambled along Culford’s long, gravelled driveway and Stephen breathed deep. Light snow drifted lazily, occasionally whipping left and right on a wind that had turned bitter since he’d left home. A faint layer of white covered the edges of the roof tiles and terrace balustrades. Garlands of holly and ivy had been wrapped around the pillars of the impressive porch, and two decorated fir trees stood on either side of the double entrance doors.
From inside the house, lamps in a few of the windows added to what should have been a welcoming ambience. Yet, the house felt like a huge, menacing phantom, rising black and imposing against a dark and cloudy sky. Stephen’s gut told him being here was a bad idea. Very bad. Was it because of this house that Cornelia and her brother chose to live in Bath?
He opened his mouth to tell the driver he’d changed his mind, but the words stuck in his throat. He needed to speak to Cornelia, insist that she step back from the investigation now it was almost certain he sought a man who had killed more than once.
His jaw clenched and he turned away from the view.
He had been late getting away from Pennington’s on what had been a manic Christmas Eve. Miss Pennington had released as many staff as she dared, and the remaining few had worked admirably, on the condition that, in future, time off at Christmas would be on rota. When her father had been in charge, Christmas for the staff hadn’t even been a consideration.
So, tired, but washed and scrubbed as well as his work-worn suit would allow, Stephen was here at eight o’clock. He just hoped he hadn’t delayed dinner.
The cab came to a stop in front of the stone steps leading to the front door and Stephen gripped the bag that he’d held on his lap for the entire journey. As soon as his feet touched the ground, indecision swept over him once again. What in God’s name was he doing here? Did he really think this visit would be a chance to convince Cornelia to step back from the investigations? From him? He still had no idea whether or not he’d be returning to London in the New Year, so how could he ask anything of her?
He studied the facade of the house. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong anywhere.
Abruptly, he reopened the cab door. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Can we go back to Bath?’
Just then, the huge oak front door creaked open behind him.
‘Mr Gower. Leaving us so soon?’
Damnation.
Lawrence Culford had his hand outstretched. ‘I hate this place as much as the next person, but I’m sure my sister would be disappointed if you didn’t at least give it a chance.’
Knowing he now had no choice, Stephen accepted Culford’s hand. ‘Mr Culford, sir. It’s good to see you again.’
‘And you.’ He glanced at the cab. ‘I’ll have the butler take care of the fare. Let’s get you inside.’ Culford picked up Stephen’s case and walked towards the manor. ‘So, what was it about the house that one look had you wanting to return to the city?’ His eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Not that I blame you. To me, the place is as ugly as they come. To Cornelia, too. To Harriet, though, our younger sister, Culford Manor represents everything she loves about life.’
‘You have no intention of living here yourself then, sir?’
‘No, never. This is Harriet’s house now. It was left to me by my mother, but I have no need of it, so I ensured that ownership was split equally between myself, Cornelia and Harriet. Although, I’m not sure Cornelia would ever want to live here, either.’
Concern filled Stephen that Lawrence Culford was mistaken and Cornelia could one day choose to leave Bath and live here in the country. Of course, he had no right to feel anything about Cornelia’s future decisions. She was finally free of a husband who had treated her like dirt. Why wouldn’t she want her children to grow up in a place like Culford rather than the city?
‘No,’ Culford continued, with pride in his voice. ‘Cornelia is my sister through and through. A survivor. Someone determined to live life on her own terms.’ He flashed a smile as they entered the largest hallway Stephen had ever set eyes on. ‘And I couldn’t be more gratified. Ah, Adams, would you kindly take Mr Gower’s hat and coat? I also need you to pay the cab outside. Here.’ Culford handed the butler a cash note.
Stephen lifted his gaze up the grand staircase to the long landing stretching in both directions at the top. He imagined the place had twenty or more rooms upstairs and God only knew how many downstairs.
Culford slapped Stephen’s shoulder, making him start. ‘Let’s go through to the dining room, shall we? We’ve just sat down at the table, so your timing is impeccable. I hope you’re hungry.’
They passed the staircase and walked along a corridor. As they entered the dining room, Stephen was greeted by a chorus of welcome from the adults sitting around the table.
He nodded hello to everyone, steadfastly preventing his gaze from lingering on Carter’s for any longer than necessary. He turned to Cornelia.
She looked phenomenal. Her red silk gown complemented her dark hair and bright blue eyes to perfection. Unwanted yearning stirred inside him.
Smiling, her eyes shining, she said, ‘Mr Gower, I am so glad you made it. Here, come and sit next to me.’ She laid her hand on the empty seat beside her. ‘You can help me keep the children in line.’
He tipped a wink at the children, who all giggled and nudged one another, before he walked the length of the table. His seat was far away from Carter at the other end, for which he was grateful. There was no doubt the man would confront Stephen at some point over the next couple of days, but at the dinner table could not be where the inevitable conversation took place. The moment he sat down, a maid filled the glasses in front of him. One with wine, the other with water.
The talking resumed and he sat quietly while Cornelia conversed with Esther Culford.
As Cornelia talked, he studied the gentle slope of her nose, her full, tempting mouth and dark brown hair. His treacherous heart swelled with a longing that was infuriating and futile. It didn’t matter how much her beauty affected him, or how deeply her soft scent infused his senses, her proximity made for as tormenting a situation as he’d ever been in.
But she would never be his.
His fingers itched to slide beneath the table and grip hers, to tilt her head towards him so that he might kiss her.
It was useless. A fantasy.
She was worthy of so much more than a detective who’d betrayed two civilians’ trust and directed a promising detective to his death. Regardless of the Board’s conclusion, Stephen could never imagine forgiving himself. Wasn’t he, even now, a man who was no further forward in helping a good and loving couple to find the peace they needed?
He abruptly picked up his wine. As he brought the glass to his lips, his eyes met Carter’s. Carter nodded, his gaze intense.
Stephen drank. Maybe this time he wouldn’t fail. Determination rose hot behind his chest as he took a second sip of wine. No, this time, he would triumph.
He would find Lillian Carter’s murderer and lay Carter’s ghosts to rest. But, as for Cornelia, her safety and happiness were paramount, and she would only find those things far away from the investigation.
Far away from him.