Page 55 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

‘I have been here for three weeks, Harriet, and not once have I heard you thank a single member of this household for anything.’ Cornelia snatched her sister’s breakfast plate from the table and walked to the buffet. ‘You’re acting like a spoilt heiress. Someone who deserves privileges, without thought of the how or why.’

Harriet stood and threw down her napkin, her blue eyes enraged. ‘Don’t you dare say that to me. Who do you think has been managing the estate while you and Lawrence do whatever you want? Me. I know my staff and they know me. You are more of a visitor than a mistress.’

She marched from the room into the hallway and Cornelia trembled with suppressed anger as she followed. ‘Culford is an estate with workers and tenants. I thought you were afraid of them looking on you in the same light as Mama! If you continue as you are, that’s exactly what will happen.’

‘So what if it does?’ Harriet whirled around. ‘I have my own way of doing things. If you don’t like it, leave. Go back to Bath. Go back to Lawrence. I don’t care.’

She mounted the stairs and Cornelia strode after her. ‘I came here to be with you. To help you.’

‘Is that so? Well, all I have heard from you is criticism. You can’t go to that party alone, Harriet. What time will you be home, Harriet? Would you like to play a game with me and the children, Harriet? ’ She stormed across the gallery landing before abruptly stopping. ‘I don’t want your life, Cornelia. I want mine . I want to do things how I want. I want a husband who understands me. Who loves me for all I am. Faults as well as strengths.’

Cornelia stared, her heart racing. ‘And you think I don’t?’

‘Not in the same way. You are happy to live as a wife who cares for her children, cares for her husband and little else in between. I want more than that.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as balls and parties. Jewels and fun. Travel and discovery.’ Harriet glared. ‘And that’s exactly what I shall have.’

Harriet stormed towards her bedroom, flounced inside and slammed the door. Cornelia gripped the banister as frustration bubbled inside her. She stared below into the enormous entrance hall, where Ruth wandered to a side table and put down a large vase of flowers. She did not wear the expression of someone happy in her work. Instead, her hands flitted a little shakily around the blooms, her shoulders stiff with tension. Was this Harriet’s doing? Did the staff fear her sister, just as the previous maids had feared their mother? Cornelia tightened her grip on the banister. How dare Harriet act so spitefully when she knew first-hand the misery their mother had caused her children and staff?

Ruth looked up, as though she’d sensed Cornelia watching her.

She immediately smiled. ‘Good morning, Ruth. Those flowers look wonderful.’

The young maid dipped a semi-curtsey and gave a hesitant smile. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘Miss Cornelia, please, Ruth. Why don’t you take an hour or so for lunch today? It’s a beautiful day. You could walk into the village.’

Ruth’s smile vanished. ‘But the mistress—’

‘Will be absolutely fine. Please, take the hour and I’ll speak with Harriet.’

‘Thank you.’ Ruth flashed another brief smile. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Ruth hurried along the corridor towards the kitchen and Cornelia pushed away from the banister. She purposefully strode to Harriet’s room and rapped on the door. Without waiting to be invited, she entered.

Her sister sat at her dressing table in her robe, rubbing cream onto her face and neck. ‘For someone who holds manners so high in her priorities, you are sadly lacking, Cornelia.’

Biting her tongue, Cornelia sat on the bed and studied Harriet’s reflection in the mirror. There was no denying being lady of the manor suited her sister, but it wasn’t a life Cornelia wanted or felt she could adjust to. In the short time she’d been here, she’d had a glimpse of what it would mean for her and her boys to live at Culford. What would be expected of her children as they grew. Living here could lead them along a path Cornelia had worked hard to avoid. Self-centredness. Greed. Snobbery. Entitlement.

She was adamant that would not happen.

She crossed her arms. ‘So, life at Culford is what you want? Along with its status and a husband who is willing to satisfy your every whim?’

‘Exactly.’ Harriet replaced the lid on her pot of cream and stared into the mirror. ‘I know exactly what I want. Maybe it’s time you concentrated on the same.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning…’ Harriet stood and walked across the room to the wardrobe. ‘It was plain to me and everyone else here at Christmas that you are in love with Mr Gower. Yet, instead, of staying in Bath and entrapping him, you run home with the rather weak excuse that you are doing so for your children.’

Cornelia’s anger simmered dangerously. ‘Entrap him? Is that really what you consider the way to lasting love?’

‘Men are a breed all of their own, dear sister. There is absolutely no harm in forcing their hand a little.’

‘You really are the most—’

‘Modern woman? Independent and intelligent thinking? I couldn’t agree more.’

‘A fool. If you think any man will stay faithful to you when he has been hoodwinked into—’

‘Just because you lack the finesse and charm to keep a man faithful does not mean I’m the same.’

Hurt slashed at Cornelia’s chest and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Why was she surprised by her sister’s callousness? Harriet was as unaware of others’ feelings as their mother had been. Yet, how could she leave her to her own devices unless Harriet made it impossible for Cornelia to stay?

Forcing a calmness into her voice, she uncrossed her arms and dropped her hands to the bed. ‘I’m here for Alfred and Francis, nothing else. Not counting the last few days, they have been happy here. As far as the disintegration of my marriage is concerned—’

‘What do you mean not counting the last few days ?’ Harriet turned from the wardrobe and eyed her carefully. ‘What happened to change their minds?’

Cornelia sighed. ‘You.’

‘Me?’ Harriet’s eyes widened. ‘How on earth could I have affected their happiness? I spend as little time with them as possible.’

Cornelia shook her head. ‘Exactly. You have neither made us welcome nor encouraged the boys in their learning or play. I fear the longer we stay here, the quicker their spirits will be broken. The house is cold, Harriet. As cold as unfeeling as it was when Mama was alive. Can you not see that? The boys were so excited to be here, to spend time roaming the estate, learning more about farming, the way the tenants live.’

‘And? I haven’t done anything to change that.’

‘You have. You constantly tell them to be quiet. You ship them out of the kitchen when they are perfectly happy to spend time with Cook. You won’t let them look in on the horses without your permission—’

‘The house is the way I want it.’ She pulled out a long, blue dress and tilted her head as she studied it. ‘I want to be a society wife, Cornelia, not a mother. I want to be wined and dined. Dance and laugh. If you don’t approve of that, then maybe you shouldn’t have brought your children here.’ She put down the dress and glared. ‘Go. Your name will remain on the estate deeds as Lawrence wishes, but there will be no need for you to worry about me or this house once I am married.’

Cornelia shook her head, annoyed how Harriet only referred to the boys as Cornelia’s children and never once as Harriet’s nephews. ‘And I suppose you will meet your husband on the Titanic ? That’s still your grand plan?’

Harriet grinned, her eyes lighting up with glee. ‘Precisely.’

Slowly, Cornelia rose from the bed. ‘I have given Ruth permission to take an hour or so for lunch so that she can spend some time away from here.’

‘That is quite all right with me. I will be joining Susannah for lunch elsewhere.’

‘Good. Then I will leave you to dress.’ Just as Cornelia reached the door, she turned, her hand on the knob. ‘I can see I was far too hasty in thinking the boys belong here.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

Cornelia pulled back her shoulders as a wave of certainty swept through her. ‘They belong with me, wherever that might be. I will ensure they are content. I will ensure they come to realise that happiness lies inside them regardless of where they might live or who they marry.’

‘Oh, that is so sweet. Completely inaccurate, of course, but sweet.’ Harriet smiled. ‘You will return to your little house?’

‘No, the house is sold.’

‘Then where do you plan to live?’

Stephen’s face burned brightly in Cornelia’s mind. Could she try to reunite with him on a permanent basis? Ask him if the idea that they might be together wasn’t entirely extinguished?

‘Cornelia?’

She blinked and met Harriet’s curious gaze. ‘I asked where you plan to live.’

Cornelia smiled. ‘Quite possibly London.’

Harriet’s gaze filled with disbelief. ‘London? You barely have an interest in socialising here, let alone in so grand a city.’

‘Who said anything about socialising?’

‘Why else would you live in London if not for the parties, the soirées, the theatre?’

‘That’s for me to know and for you to learn in due course.’

‘But—’

Cornelia swept from the room and hurried along the landing, her heart swelling with certainty. It had taken coming back to Culford to make her accept she and the boys would never be any happier here than Lawrence and his family would have been. Culford was a monument to financial greed, selfishness and social-climbing. Things she wanted no part of for herself or her children.

She had been wrong to sacrifice Stephen. Wrong to sacrifice her new joy at Pennington’s. She was not to blame for the failure of her marriage, and she was not to blame for having to move her children temporarily to Bath. She had done what she needed in order to survive, and she would do so again.

Hurrying downstairs, she entered her father’s study and pulled some writing paper from one of the cubbyholes in his bureau. Taking a deep breath, she extracted a pen from a wooden pot, dipped it in ink and put it to the paper.

Dear Stephen…