Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

T he day of the ball was crisp, cold, and snowy. It was a good thing most of the guests lived in the neighborhood. Otherwise, they might have a hard time getting there. Chastity did her best not to be nervous. Mrs. Pettigrew considered the matter of her employment closed and told her to don the incredible ball gown laid out for her and to let Abigail do her hair.

"I don't like this," she told her fellow maid when she sat at the vanity in her room. "You're my equal, not my lady's maid. I don't understand what Mrs. Pettigrew is doing."

"She's an odd sort, to be sure. But she always has a purpose for everything she does. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you." Abigail studied Chastity's reflection in the vanity mirror. "Let me see, what shall we do this evening?"

"Something practical," Chastity said. She eyed Abigail in the mirror. "Would you say we're about the same size?"

Abigail laughed. "Yer a might taller than me, but yes, I suppose we are. Why?"

She shrugged. "No reason, I was just asking. So you think I'll eventually get to wear a uniform?"

"I don't know. When the mood strikes Mrs. Pettigrew, I suppose." Abigail got to work on her hair, and Chastity wondered if she would ever have an idea of what her position in the Pettigrew household really was. So far all she'd really been was a sort of secretary and companion to the woman. If that's what she wanted, then so be it. But if she was to be a maid then she should dress and be treated as one, no matter how she wished it were otherwise. The sad fact was, Chastity had nothing, except this job, and…

Her eyes misted.

"Why, Miss Eastwick, what's wrong?" Abigail asked.

"Don't call me that." She wiped at one eye as she thought of her friendship with Dalton. Chastity would no longer have it once he knew the truth, and it pained her something awful.

"I'm sorry, Chastity. I didn't mean to upset you," Abigail said.

She gave her a nod and stared at her reflection in the mirror as Abigail got back to work. Despite her request for something practical, Abigail had swept it up into something fashionable, with tiny ringlets framing her face. It was downright beautiful, but Chastity didn't need beautiful. Dalton was obviously attracted to her, and if he caught her under the mistletoe this evening and tried to steal a kiss, Chastity didn't think she could stand it. She was falling for him, hard, and being just a few doors down the street from him was going to be torture. If she was lucky, once the Christmas ball was over, there would be no more errands for her to run with Dalton Simpson, and Mrs. Pettigrew would drop… whatever this was. The thought that her employer might be playing matchmaker was beyond ridiculous.

And that's when Chastity made up her mind to don a maid's uniform starting tomorrow. She could borrow one of Abigail's if there wasn't one in the house that would fit her. She couldn't hide this from Dalton or anyone else any longer. Besides, the sooner she set Dalton straight the better.

Would revealing her true station upset Mrs. Pettigrew? She didn't think so. She hired her as a maid to begin with.

Would it upset Dalton? Probably, but if he was no longer speaking to her, then she'd only have to deal with her broken heart where it stood now. Later on, it might be too much or her to bear, and then what could she do?

Would Rebecca have a delightful laugh at her expense? Definitely, but again, better to deal with the aftermath now than later. She didn't want anyone to think less of Mrs. Pettigrew, and everyone knew how eccentric she was. Chastity was simply doing as she was told.

Her mind made up her, shoulders slumped in relief, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. In fact, she should take it a step further and tell Dalton tonight.

"I'll fetch your shoes," Abigail said. She went to the armoire and pulled out a box.

When she joined her with the shoes, Chastity noticed they matched her gown perfectly. "Abigail, whose clothes are these?"

Abigail cocked her head. "I'm not sure. They've always been here in this guest room. It's lovely that they fit ye so well, aye?"

"Yes." She blew out a breath, slipped her feet into the shoes, and stood. The sooner she got through the evening the better.

Dalton stood near the tree with his parents, the Johnsons, the Fergusons, and several other neighbors. All were admiring the tree when Mr. Tugs cleared his throat. "Miss Chastity Eastwick."

Dalton smiled at her name and turned as Chastity reached the bottom of the stairs and started across the grand foyer. She wore a gown of green and ivory, that set off the color of her eyes and chestnut hair. Her shoes were also green, as were the earrings she wore and along with a beautiful necklace.

"She's lovely, my boy," Father said at his side.

"Yes, she is." He looked at him. "And I'm glad you think so."

He smiled and patted Dalton on the back. "I know she's not of our class, but I've also noticed how happy you are when you're with her."

Dalton smiled. "She does make me happy." He watched as Chastity entered the drawing room and headed straight for Mrs. Pettigrew. She was at the other end of the drawing room giving instructions to the musicians she'd hired for the evening. "I'm going to court her."

"Are you?" Mother said. She studied Chastity. "Do you know anything about her family?"

"Other than her parents have both passed and her father owned a couple of businesses, no. But I'll find out." He turned to his parents. "She's sweet, kind, and speaks her mind. I dare say she could handle you, Father."

His father laughed. "We'll see about that." He looked at the floor a moment, then Dalton. "People will talk, if you marry beneath your station. Is that something you can handle?"

"Can you?" he asked.

"She's hardly a peasant, my boy. And I'm not the one marrying her. But if the alternative is the likes of that Rebecca Harrington, then Miss Eastwick is the obvious choice. Does she know what you're worth?"

"I don't believe so," he said.

"Then you have my blessing to court her. I might not like it right now, but it's getting harder and harder to find a wife of good character. If one must dip a toe into the upper middle classes, so be it."

"I don't believe she's from the upper middle class, Father," Dalton said.

His father made a groaning sound. "Stop that," Mother scolded. "Let's get you some punch."

Father chuckled as Mother led him to the nearest refreshment table. Dalton continued to watch Chastity. She looked nervous, and perhaps she wasn't ready to be out in society just yet. Denver was new to her, and its elite class could be brutal in its assessment of newcomers.

He smiled to himself. She was not from the upper classes. She said as much herself, and he was okay with that. He would still marry her if she would have him. But the dark cloud of doubt that hung over her head told him otherwise, and he was determined to get rid of it, whatever it was.

The music started and Mrs. Pettigrew, in a beautiful red and gold gown, bucked convention when she asked Mr. Tugs, her butler, to dance. No one said a word. No one dared. She was queen here, and everyone knew it.

Dalton's mother and father joined them and were soon dancing as were Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Dalton smiled as Chastity slowly made her way around the dance area toward him.

"Good evening," he greeted when she reached him. "You look lovely this evening, Chastity."

She blushed. "Thank you, but… I don't feel very festive this evening."

He frowned. "Why not?"

She was about to answer when Rebecca and her parents entered the drawing room. Unannounced. It couldn't be helped, Dalton supposed. Tugs was dancing with Mrs. Pettigrew.

Chastity caught sight of the Harringtons and her forehead creased in confusion. "What are they doing here?"

"I have no idea," he said. "But I intend to find out." He marched toward Rebecca and her parents. When he reached them, none of them seemed the slightest bit worried. "Good evening, Mr. Harrington, Mrs. Harrington." He skewered Rebecca with a glare. "Miss Harrington. I had no idea you'd be joining us tonight."

"Of course you didn't. I only received the invitation this morning," Mrs. Harrington huffed. "Come along, Eugene, I'm parched." She headed for the refreshment table, pulling her short, rotund, husband behind her.

"Mother and Father are so glad to be here," Rebecca cooed. "It would be a shame to ruin their evening, don't you think?"

He narrowed his gaze on her. "What are you up to? I know very well Mrs. Pettigrew did not send your family an invitation."

"Pity that. But even Mrs. Pettigrew is capable of changing her mind." She looked him up and down like he was a piece of candy. "By the way, she must have changed her mind several times about Miss Eastwick."

Dalton crossed his arms in front of him. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I did a little checking the other day and heard from a member of the Pettigrew staff that your dear Miss Eastwick is a maid in this very house."

Dalton's heart stopped. He glanced at Chastity who was speaking to the Fergusons near the Christmas tree. "What are you talking about? She is no more a maid than I'm a chimney sweep."

"Oh, Dalty," she said and ran a finger over one bicep. "But she is. Mr. Prosser told me himself. After all, he works here so he would know."

"The day you pulled that stunt of yours, he wasn't even aware she was a guest in this house," he snapped.

"Well, seems Abigail set him straight when he got around to asking." She gave him a sly smile. "How does it feel to know you've been cavorting with a servant?" She giggled and sashayed toward the refreshment table to join her parents.

Dalton stared after her, dumbfounded. She had to be making it up. He sought Chastity again. She hadn't moved. From the looks of things, Mrs. Ferguson was commenting on Chastity's lovely ball gown. He watched her blush and wondered how in the world Rebecca could have come up with such a fanciful tale. Well, there was one way to find out. He'd speak to Chastity himself. Then he'd speak to Mrs. Pettigrew and find out if she wanted him to escort the Harringtons out the door.