Page 51 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)
Cornelia carried a box of Pennington’s bags through the atrium towards the jewellery counter, her gaze automatically drawn to the double doors, where Stephen would never stand again. She could see his handsome face and slow smile in her mind’s eye and sadness once more gripped her heart.
He’d come into the store two days ago, jubilant with the news Lillian’s killer had been arrested, and that Frank ‘The Blade’ Wilson now faced three charges of murder. Although disgusted that, after his brief jaunts in prison for lesser charges, Wilson had returned to Bath time and again to reoffend, Stephen was adamant the killer would never again see the light of day.
Wilson’s loyal, misguided cronies had formed a protective circle around a man they respected and feared in equal measure. Wilson had carried an unsubstantiated grudge against Lillian for years, claiming he found it repulsive how she chose to distribute aid to the poor. That she, and her associates, were intent on luring the children into child labour or worse, or getting vagrant adults imprisoned or killed.
Entirely uncorroborated and ridiculous claims.
He’d told Whitlock he had been sent by God to rid the world of women pretending to be good when they were evil. Clearly mentally unwell, Wilson had hidden behind an erroneous shield that had speedily broken once the three men arrested alongside him realised they could negotiate a lesser prison sentence if they told the police what they knew.
Cornelia drew a shaky breath and continued through the atrium. She hesitated when she spotted Elizabeth and Joseph talking together at the foot of the grand staircase, their heads close together, Elizabeth’s hand protectively curled around Joseph’s arm. Stephen had told her Joseph had taken the news of Wilson’s arrest with a mix of elation and profound frustration that he now had to leave the man’s sentencing to the court. Cornelia had no doubt the ripples of the investigation, and Joseph’s years-old trauma, would take a long time to fully dissipate from his mind or heart whatever the judge might decide.
She continued forward, barely noticing the people, noises and sights around her. This morning, she had handed in her notice to Mrs Hampton, who, although disappointed, said she would speak to Elizabeth on Cornelia’s behalf. As soon as her leaving date had been confirmed, she would start packing for Culford.
Alfred and Francis were ecstatic, and their delighted faces had been the final confirmation that returning to Oxfordshire was the right thing to do.
Not that Harriet had seemed best pleased when Cornelia telephoned to tell her of their imminent return. A nugget of suspicion began to form in her mind that Harriet had not been running the estate in a way Cornelia would approve.
‘Cornelia? Might I have a word?’
Cornelia turned at the sound of Elizabeth’s voice behind her. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Pennington.’
Elizabeth smiled, but her eyes were shadowed with concern as her gaze searched Cornelia’s face. ‘I spoke to Mrs Hampton this morning. Is it true? You wish to leave Pennington’s?’
Cornelia nodded. ‘I do.’ She frowned. ‘How is Mr Carter?’
Elizabeth glanced around them before steering Cornelia to the side of the busy walkway. She nodded a hello to a trio of elderly women as they passed by before facing Cornelia. ‘He’ll be fine. In time.’
‘If there is anything I can—’
‘I’ll look after him. Don’t worry.’ She smiled softly, but her green eyes reflected her concern. ‘Apologies if I’m interfering, but can I ask if you are leaving because Mr Gower has returned to London? Only, Esther mentioned that feelings seemed to be deepening between you. I realise Oxfordshire is closer to London than Bath, but I thought you were happy here.’
Which will only make the temptation to not contact Stephen all the harder . Cornelia straightened her shoulders. ‘I am. I was, but my children love Culford and I owe it to them to return there.’
‘Owe it to them?’
‘Yes. The estate will one day belong to all of our parents’ grandchildren, if they should want it, and I think it’s my responsibility to make sure Alfred and Francis are given the opportunity to love it as Lawrence and I never did.’
‘And that’s it? Nothing else?’
Further words and explanations flailed on Cornelia’s tongue. How much could she admit to Elizabeth of her feelings for Stephen? How could she ever confess to anyone they’d made love yet still he chose to leave, just as she had?
She drew on every ounce of her inner strength. ‘I’ve concluded we belong at Culford. It’s where my children should grow up and what is best for them.’
‘And is Culford what’s best for you ?’
She held Elizabeth’s gaze. ‘It is. With my ex-husband living his own life now, Culford is where I belong.’
Elizabeth frowned. ‘You’ve told Esther and Lawrence?’
‘Yes. Esther wants me to do whatever I think best.’
‘And Lawrence?’
Cornelia looked around the shop floor, turning away from Elizabeth’s penetrating stare. ‘He’s fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘He doesn’t exactly love Culford.’ Cornelia paused, her brother’s reservations and disappointment resounding in her head. ‘He wasn’t happy there as a child, but I can’t allow the past to dictate my future. None of us can.’
Elizabeth studied her, the line deepening between her brows. ‘Well, I can’t stop you from leaving us if that’s what you want, but…’
Cornelia waited for Elizabeth to continue. Her objections held no water, Cornelia was leaving. She might have come truly to care for Pennington’s, for Elizabeth and Joseph, for all of the staff, in fact, but doing what was right and good for one’s children demonstrated true commitment and love. Two things her boys deserved more than anything else.
Elizabeth cleared her throat, her expression defeated but businesslike. ‘All right. If you want to leave, I’d like you to work two weeks’ notice. After that, you are free to return to Culford.’
‘Thank you.’
Elizabeth turned to leave and then stopped, her gaze curious. ‘Do you think you – we – will ever see Mr Gower again?’
The we held connotations of just how much Stephen had come to mean, not just to Cornelia, but to Elizabeth and Joseph, too. The admiration in Elizabeth’s eyes was testament to how much Stephen had done for her and her husband.
Cornelia doubted whether Stephen either saw or understood just how wonderful a man he had become to so many people in the short amount of time he’d touched their lives.
She forced a smile. ‘Who knows if I will see him again? But I’ll never forget him or the time we spent together.’
‘No, neither will we. He’s a good man.’
‘He is.’
‘You and Mr Gower will always have a place at Pennington’s if either of you ever want to return.’ Elizabeth squeezed Cornelia’s arm. ‘You’ll be missed.’
Tears pricked the back of Cornelia’s eyes. It suddenly felt incredibly wrong to be leaving Pennington’s. A place where she had grown to be happy, gained confidence… and found a man she truly loved. ‘Thank you.’
With a final squeeze of Cornelia’s arm, Elizabeth abruptly turned and walked into the crowds. Her red hair and confident poise shone among the customers. Wherever Elizabeth was in the store, she stood out. A woman who had done whatever she had to do in order to make Pennington’s hers. Cornelia would try to embrace the lessons she had learned from Elizabeth and apply them to her own life.
But as she returned to the jewellery department, she felt that by leaving, she showed none of Elizabeth’s courage and tenacity. Was she not really running away from life? Wasn’t she going backwards by returning to Culford?
Yet, her heart told her that Harriet needed her home, whether she realised it or not. Plus, the boys needed to be where they were happiest. Was she not showing strength of a different kind by sacrificing her own needs for those of her beloved family?
She was strong and determined. Her personal happiness was not important right now. If that would ever change, she did not know, but she’d hold on – she’d fight on – until the world showed her it was time to step forward and become the woman she was supposed to be.