Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

" T ighter, Abigail," Mrs. Pettigrew instructed.

Chastity held onto the bedpost and sucked in more air. What she could, anyway. "Why… am… I… wearing… grunt … this?"

"Why not?" Mrs. Pettigrew took another drag of her thin cigar. She blew smoke out, which made Chastity cough. What had she gotten herself into? Her new employer was refined and elegant, but also odd!

Mrs. Pettigrew went to an armoire on the other side of the room and pulled out a dark plum day dress made of velvet. "I think this will do nicely, don't you, Abigail?"

The Irish maid gave another yank on the corset strings. "Oh, aye, Mrs. Pettigrew. She'll look fine in that."

"Wh-what?" Chastity said then groaned. "Ow!"

"Too tight?" Abigail asked.

"Yes," came out a strangled gasp.

"Oh, dear me," Abigail said and tried to loosen the corset strings.

"Stop!" Mrs. Pettigrew called and put down the dress. "Men are attracted to a tiny waist."

Chastity coughed. "Of a dead woman? Because that's what I'm going to be if Abigail cinches this corset any tighter!" A weak cough escaped her, and it was all she could do to say upright. But then, her corset was so tight by this time, she doubted she could sit.

Chastity eyed the plum-colored dress on the bed. "Will… it… fit?" Good grief, she couldn't draw in a breath!

Mrs. Pettigrew eyed her. "Are you quite all right, ma chérie ? Hmm, perhaps we should loosen your corset a wee bit." She nodded at Abigail, and she quickly got to work. A good thing too, Chastity was becoming more than a little woozy due to a lack of oxygen.

"Now, about the guest list. Chastity, you and Abigail can deliver the invitations."

Chastity ignored her and stiffly walked toward the bed, careful not to breathe. Not that she could. "Dress?"

Mrs. Pettigrew's eyes darted to the clothes on the bed. " Oui, ma chérie . Do put it on and we'll see how you look."

"Should I not be donning a maid's uniform?"

Mrs. Pettigrew laughed. "Whatever for? You can just as easily go about your duties dressed in this fabulous plum frock." She rolled her eyes as if the question was idiotic.

Chastity didn't know what to think. But Mrs. Pettigrew did say her household was unconventional, and she wasn't kidding. "Very well, if that is what you wish."

"Of course it is." She tapped her chin with a finger. "I know there's a matching hat and gloves, and then you'll need a cloak and shoes. Abigail, fetch a pair of black shoes from the armoire, will you? Then help Miss Eastwick dress. I have a few things I need to go over with Mr. Tugs."

"Of course, Mrs. Pettigrew." Abigail bobbed a curtsy and did as she said as Mrs. Pettigrew regally left the room, cigar in hand.

Chastity waved at the trail of smoke left behind and coughed a few times. "Does she smoke often?"

"Only when the mood strikes her." Abigail nodded to herself. "I know what yer thinking. She's strange, that's to be sure, but she's got a heart of gold. So did Mr. Pettigrew."

"Did you know him?" Chastity asked.

"Not well. I came to work for the Pettigrew's just a year before he took ill and died." She smiled. "They were a grand pair. Ye should have seen them together."

Chastity chanced sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand at her belly, and tried to take in a breath. "Do you think you could loosen this corset a bit more?"

Abigail bit her lower lip in indecision. "I don't know…"

"I'm a maid," she pointed out. "Not a debutante. Men won't care if my waist is tiny or not."

Abigail's eyes flicked to the bedroom door and back. "Very well, but just a wee bit." She got to work.

"The door knocker and the man in the portrait above the fireplace in the drawing room. Those are both Mr. Pettigrew, aren't they?"

"Oh, aye."

Chastity's breaths came easier, and she sighed in relief as Abigail continued to loosen the corset strings. "Thank you for that." She turned to face her when Abigail was done. "How long have you worked for the Pettigrew's?"

"Oh, dearie me, let me think. About four years now." She eyed the dress on the bed. "Let's get ye into that frock before Mrs. Pettigrew comes looking for us."

"I still don't see why I don't get to wear a maid's uniform. Does she not have any in my size?" She studied Abigail, who was a few inches shorter than her.

"Oh, she has various sizes to be sure," she told Chastity. "But Mrs. Pettigrew never does anything unconventional without a reason. Ye'd best learn not to question her much."

"But how can I possibly perform a maid's duties while wearing…" she peered at the dress on the bed. "Such finery? Goodness, look at this!" Now that she was closer, she saw the intricate embroidery decorating the bodice and skirt. "This is beautiful."

"Indeed, it is," Abigail agreed. She helped Chastity dress, then quickly styled her hair.

No sooner than she was done, Mrs. Pettigrew came sweeping back into the room. "Ah, you look as lovely as I knew you would. Come along, there's not a moment to lose." She turned around and swept right back out, leaving Chastity and Abigail wearing the same questioning look.

Chastity shrugged. "I guess we'd better go."

"Aye." Abigail put the brush and comb away then followed Chastity downstairs to the main drawing room. It was the only place Chastity knew to go.

Mrs. Pettigrew smiled as they entered then motioned to two stacks of envelopes. "Wonderful, you're here! Now, I've split the invitations in two. Abigail, you'll take yours and distribute them with Mr. Tugs. Chastity… oh, ma chérie , you cannot go alone…"

The sound of the door knocker interrupted them. "I'll get it," Abigail said. She bobbed a curtsy and went to answer the door.

"As I was saying," Mrs. Pettigrew continued. "You can't deliver these on your own. You need someone to accompany you."

"Mr. Simpson is here to see ye, Mrs. Pettigrew," Abigail announced then stepped aside.

Chastity's breath caught at the sight of Mrs. Pettigrew's handsome neighbor. He took one look at her and his face broke into a brilliant smile. "We meet again." He crossed the room, took Chastity's hand in his, and kissed it. "I should have given you a proper greeting when last we met, but alas, I was preoccupied with my goats."

"How are your little pets?" Mrs. Pettigrew asked. "Have they eaten anyone else's orange trees?"

He chuckled low in his throat and his cheeks grew pink. "No, Mrs. Pettigrew. In fact, that's why I'm here. I've bought you a new orange tree. I have a man waiting outside with it. He'll put it in the solarium for you if you like."

"Another orange tree, you say?" Mrs. Pettigrew smiled. "How lovely." Her smile turned into a frown. "Are the goats properly secured in their pen? They won't eat this tree as fast as they did the last one will they?"

"No, I assure you," Mr. Simpson said pleasantly.

Chastity watched him, unsure of what to do. If he knew she was just a maid, he never would have kissed her hand.

"Let us hope not," Mrs. Pettigrew said then motioned to her. "You've met Miss Eastwick?"

"Of course. You sent her to deliver your message to me earlier."

"Ah, so I did." Mrs. Pettigrew sat and motioned them to do the same. "Abigail, tea please."

"Right away, Mrs. Pettigrew." Abigail bobbed her usual curtsy and disappeared from the drawing room.

Chastity stared after her then looked at her employer. "Should I help…"

"With the invitations?" Mrs. Pettigrew cut in. "Of course, ma chérie . In fact, after tea, you and Mr. Simpson can deliver them." She smiled at Chastity. "After all, you shouldn't be out by yourself. You'll need an escort."

"An escort?" Mr. Simpson said. "What sort of invitations are you talking about?" He shot Chastity a quizzical look. "You're letting your houseguest deliver them?"

"Well, I can't do it," Mrs. Pettigrew said. "And Miss Eastwick is perfectly capable and willing to deliver them, aren't you, ma chérie ?"

Chastity forced a smile. "Oh, um, yes, of course."

Mr. Simpson looked at her with his crystal blue eyes, and she almost fell out of her chair. "Splendid, then I shall accompany you."

A tingle went up her spine at the thought of this handsome man escorting her. But what was he going to do when he found out she was nothing more than a house maid?

As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Pettigrew said, "Miss Eastwick, I'll have to think if there's anything else I need you two to pick up for me while you're out. It would be a huge help to Tugs."

Mr. Simpson grinned. "How is Tugs?"

"Spry as ever." Mrs. Pettigrew said with a wink.

"I'm glad to hear it." Mr. Simpson looked at Chastity. "So, where do you hail from, Miss Eastwick? How long will you be in town?"

Before she could so much as open her mouth, Mrs. Pettigrew answered. "Sadly, the poor dear has lost her parents and has come to me seeking my aid."

Chastity's eyes went wide at the mention of her parents, not to mention the fact Mrs. Pettigrew would tell Mr. Simpson her circumstances. She glanced his way, saw the sympathetic look he was giving her, and snapped her mouth shut, having realized it was hanging open.

"Yes, such a tragedy," Mrs. Pettigrew went on. "But with my help, Miss Eastwick will be set to rights in no time."

"You have my condolences," Mr. Simpson told Chastity in a gentle voice.

Chastity's heart melted at the sound of it. What Mrs. Pettigrew failed to tell him, was that her parents had died over a year ago. She'd done what she could to keep things going, but since Papa's debtors took what little money was left…

"I'm more than happy to help in any way I can," Mr. Simpson said, breaking into her thoughts.

"Wh-what?" Chastity blurted.

"Why, that's very generous of you, Mr. Simpson," Mrs. Pettigrew said. "How gallant."

Chastity stared at him, then shifted her gaze to Mrs. Pettigrew. Was she going round the bend? She was her new maid! Why was her employer making things sound like she was a houseguest?

Abigail served them tea, and Chastity listened to Mrs. Pettigrew and Mr. Simpson talk about upcoming balls and other social functions before they finished their tea. As soon as they were done, Abigail magically appeared in the grand foyer with the hat and cloak that matched her outfit. Before Chastity knew it, she was ready to head out the door with a small stack of invitations, another invitation Mrs. Pettigrew wanted them to order at the printers, and the names of a couple of books from a bookseller she wanted them to pick up. The last thing she handed Chastity was a black reticule trimmed in the same plum color as her dress.

"There, I think the two of you are ready to go," Mrs. Pettigrew announced happily. "Now, after you pick up my books, you can stop off at Barnaby's Bakery for a treat."

Chastity could only stare. Not once had Mrs. Pettigrew mentioned the fact that she was the new maid! Before she could think on it further, the eccentric woman ushered her and Mr. Simpson out the front door into the cold, crisp winter air. "My, is she always like this?" Chastity heard herself ask.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Simpson said. "But you'll get used to it." He offered her his arm and smiled.

Unsure of what to do other than keep her mouth shut, she took it, and the two of them were off.