The Mistletoe Seller: A heartwarming, romantic novel for Christmas from the Sunday Times bestseller

‘Give her to me then, ma’am. I’m sure the sergeant at the station will know of some woman who’d like to earn a few pence for her labours.’

Cordelia hesitated. ‘I suppose that means some slattern who might be disease ridden and most certainly of low morals.’

‘That I can’t say, ma’am.’ Constable Miller kept his tone moderate but he was tired and coming to the end of his shift. His only wish was to take the tiresome infant to the station and see it safely settled before he went home to his family, left in the care of his eldest daughter, a child of ten. Whether or not they were asleep in bed was something he would discover when he opened the door of their two-up, two-down terraced house. No doubt they would have searched the cupboards for their presents, such as they were, but all he could afford on a constable’s pay were wooden toys made from offcuts by the carpenter who lived at number six, and rag dolls that his wife had spent many evenings sewing by the light of a single candle.

Cordelia rose to her feet, still clutching Angel, who was growing restive and her whimpering was rapidly growing in volume. ‘I must come with you, Constable. I have to make certain that this child is placed in safe hands.’ Cordelia turned her head as the door opened to admit Letitia, the vicar and Joseph Wilding, and judging by the expressions on their faces she realised that her decision was going to attract strong opposition. She explained hastily, but Joseph barely allowed her to finish speaking.

‘It’s ridiculous, Cordelia. The child has been deserted by her mother and goodness knows where it came from. The thing might be riddled with disease and you have a delicate constitution. Come away and leave the matter to the authorities.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ Letitia said smoothly. ‘Your caring attitude is admirable, but misplaced. There are institutions that care for this type of child.’

‘And what type is that?’ Cordelia demanded angrily. ‘Angel is an innocent, just like the Child whose birth we are supposed to be celebrating at Christmas.’

Shocked, Letitia stared at her wide-eyed. ‘That is blasphemous, Cordelia.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Pretend you didn’t hear that, John. Cordelia is obviously beside herself, and it’s very late. Time we were all tucked up in our beds so that we can be ready for tomorrow – or rather, later on today. Go home, Cordelia, and leave the matter in the hands of the police.’

Cordelia held the child closer as she rose to her feet. Rebellion was not in her nature and she would normally have complied with her husband’s wishes, but this was different. ‘No,’ she said firmly.

‘No?’ Letitia and Joseph spoke in unison.

‘It’s all right, ma’am,’ Constable Miller said hastily. ‘I will make certain that the child is well cared for.’

Cordelia shot a sideways look at her husband. ‘I am not abandoning this infant. I intend to accompany Constable Miller to the police station, and I will stay with Angel until I am satisfied that appropriate arrangements have been made for her care.’

‘Cordelia, I forbid you—’ Joseph broke off mid-sentence. The stubborn set of his wife’s normally soft jawline and the martial gleam in her large grey eyes both startled and confused him. Used as he was to commanding his army of workers at the brewery and generally getting his own way by simple force of his domineering nature, he was suddenly at a loss.

‘I am going with her,’ Cordelia said simply. ‘It’s Christmas Day and my little winter angel needs the comfort of loving arms. I will never know the joy of holding my own child, so please allow me this one small thing, Joseph.’

John Hardisty cleared his throat, touched to the core by the simple request of a childless woman. ‘I will accompany you, my dear Mrs Wilding. If Joseph feels he must tend to your guests then please allow me to be of assistance.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Vicar.’ Joseph moved to his wife’s side. ‘I’m sure my friends will understand. I don’t agree with what you’re doing, Cordelia, but I am prepared to humour you – just this once.’

She met his gaze with a steady look. For the first time in the twenty-five years of their marriage she knew that she was in control, and it was a good feeling. She said nothing as she followed the constable out of the church, wrapping her cape around the baby to protect her from the heavily falling snow.

‘Get into the carriage, Cordelia,’ Joseph said sternly. ‘Might I offer you a lift, Constable?’

‘I’m supposed to be walking my beat, sir.’ Constable Miller squinted up into the swirling mass of feathery snow. ‘But I suppose under the circumstances it would be appropriate.’

The desk sergeant dipped his pen into the inkwell. ‘Name, please?’

‘Cordelia Wilding.’

‘No, ma’am, the infant’s name, if it has one.’

‘Angel,’ Cordelia said firmly.

‘Angel?’ He looked up, frowning. ‘Surname?’

‘Really, Officer, is this necessary?’ Joseph leaned over the desk. ‘My wife knows nothing of this child. She’s simply caring for the infant until someone comes to take her away.’

A shaft of fear stabbed Cordelia with such ferocity that she could scarcely breathe. ‘Angel Winter. It’s the name I’ve given the poor little creature who’s been cruelly abandoned by her mother. She needs someone who can take care of her bodily needs, and a home where she will be loved.’

‘Don’t we all, ma’am?’ Sergeant Wilkes said drily.

‘I suggested the Foundling Hospital, Sergeant,’ Constable Miller took his notebook from his pocket. ‘The infant was found at approximately eleven forty-five in Angel Alley by a Mr James Fowler, the verger at St Mary’s church, and taken into the vestry where this good lady has been taking care of the said babe.’

The sergeant glanced at the clock. ‘It’s nearly half-past one in the morning, and it’s Christmas Day. I doubt if anyone would be happy to be awakened at this time.’

As if acting on cue, Angel began to cry and this time no amount of rocking or soothing words made any difference.

‘She’s hungry,’ Cordelia said apologetically. ‘A wet nurse must be found immediately.’

‘Lumpy Lil is in the cells, Constable Miller. Go and fetch her, if you please. She’s up for soliciting again.’ Sergeant Wilkes shot an apologetic glance in Cordelia’s direction. It was bad enough having a nipper howling its head off fit to bust, without the added complication of there being a lady present. He thought longingly of home and a warm fireside, a pipe of baccy and a glass of porter to finish off a long day. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am.’

‘Lumpy Lil,’ Cordelia repeated faintly. The image this conjured up made her shudder, but Angel’s cries were becoming more urgent, and she supposed that one mother’s milk was as good as another’s, even if the woman was of questionable morals.

Joseph moved closer to her, lowering his voice. ‘Come away now, Cordelia. You’ve done your best for the infant. Let the police deal with her.’

She turned on him in a fury. ‘You make Angel sound like a criminal. I won’t abandon her, and I intend to remain here until I’m satisfied that a good home has been found for her.’

‘This is ridiculous, my dear,’ Joseph said through clenched teeth. ‘You cannot stay here all night, and possibly all day too. I won’t allow it.’

Cordelia turned away in time to see Constable Miller escorting a large, raw-boned woman along the corridor that presumably led from the cells. Lumpy Lil lived up to her name – her torn blouse was open to the waist, exposing large breasts, purple veined and threatening to burst free from the confines of tightly laced stays.

‘Good grief!’ Joseph stared at her in horror. ‘Surely not this creature.’

‘Where’s the little brat then?’ Lil’s words were slurred. It was obvious that she had been drinking and was still under the influence, but Angel was screaming by this time, and much as Cordelia hated the thought of this unwashed, drunken woman laying hands on her pure little angel, she could see that there was little alternative. She cleared her throat, meeting Lil’s aggressive glare with an attempt at a smile.

‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you be kind enough to give sustenance to this poor little child, Miss Lumpy?’

‘It’s Miss Heavitree to you, lady.’ Lil tossed back her shaggy mane of mouse-brown hair. ‘You never told me the queen was visiting Leman Street nick, Constable Miller.’

‘Less of your cheek, Lil. You know what’s required of you.’

‘Give us the kid, missis.’ Lil held her arms out, exposing tattoos that ran from her bony wrists to her elbows. ‘I’ll be glad to get some relief from me sore titties. My babe only lived three days, and then the cops brought me in for trying to make a living.’ She spat on the floor at Constable Miller’s feet, narrowly missing his boots. ‘I provides a valuable service, they knows that.’

‘Less of your lip, Lumpy.’ Constable Miller poked her in the back. ‘If you’re willing to take care of the nipper you can use the inspector’s office. He’s at home with his family, where we all should be, and I’m going off duty, so don’t give me any trouble.’

‘All right, I’ll see to the little thing. What’s her name?’

‘I call her Angel.’

‘There’s no accounting for taste. I dare say she’ll be as much of a brat as the rest of ’em when she’s old enough to answer back.’ Lil flung the baby over her shoulder with careless abandon. ‘Lead on, Constable. You can stay and watch if it gives you pleasure.’ She winked at him, but Constable Miller merely shrugged and gave her a push in the direction of the office.

‘It would be nothing new to me, Lil. I’ve got five of my own, but I’ll be outside the door, so don’t try to escape.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Cordelia volunteered as Constable Miller ushered Lumpy Lil and the baby into the inspector’s office.

‘You don’t want to mix with the likes of her, ma’am,’ he said in an undertone. ‘She’s not your sort at all.’