Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

T he walk back to the Pettigrew mansion was made up of polite conversation. Chastity dodged as many questions as she could and answered ones she thought appropriate.

"Your father was a business owner then?" Dalton clarified.

"Yes, he owned two, in fact." She'd leave out the part about his business partner for now. Mr. Morton died years before Father did, and she believed that's what threw her father into bad company.

"What kind of businesses?" Dalton asked.

She fought a sigh. Why couldn't the man walk in silence? "He owned a small newspaper and a hotel."

"I see." He looked her over. "But with your parents both gone, you've sought the aid of Mrs. Pettigrew, a famous matchmaker…"

She noticed how he let the sentence hang. "Yes, I'm here for her help."

He nodded slowly. Was that a pleased look on his face? What was he thinking? Maybe now would be a good time to inform him of her new position in the Pettigrew household.

They reached the manse, and Dalton sauntered to the front door with a happy smile. "I can't wait to see the look on Adelia's face when she sees the cream puffs we've brought."

"Are you always so informal in regard to Mrs. Pettigrew?" Chastity asked out of curiosity.

"I've called her Adelia before, but if it makes you feel better, I shall refer to her as Mrs. Pettigrew." He stopped them at the door. "Is that what you wish?"

"You may call her whatever you want. It's the fact you switch back and forth…"

"Ah, yes. Well, I suppose it's a badge of honor to call her by her Christian name. She doesn't bestow the privilege to many. I've only been using her Christian name for a few months."

"And she doesn't mind?"

"On the contrary, she insists I do it. I suppose being more formal with our notes going back and forth is part of the game. I'm going to miss those goats once they're gone."

She giggled, unable to help it. "Then you'll have no reason to politely snap at each other on paper."

He shrugged. "You're right. I'll have to have tea with the woman more often. When time allows that is." He knocked on the door and waited for Abigail or Mr. Tugs to answer.

The door opened wide, and Mrs. Pettigrew grabbed them each by an arm and pulled them inside. "It's about time the two of you returned. There's not a moment to lose!"

"Has something happened?" Chastity squeaked in alarm.

"Of course. We have a ball to plan!" Mrs. Pettigrew headed for the large drawing room. "Come along now."

Dalton and Chastity exchanged a look and a smile before following her. In the drawing room, Tugs checked things off a piece of paper while Abigail busied herself pouring tea.

"We brought you a little something," Dalton announced. He set the bakery box on the low center table near the sofa where Mrs. Pettigrew now sat.

She smiled as she looked at the box. "Cream puffs?"

"Of course," Dalton said. "And with Mrs. Baumeister's compliments."

"Ah, the Baumeisters. Such a lovely couple. Best bakery in town if you ask me. Tugs, Abigail, have a cream puff and some tea."

Mr. Tugs set down his paper and pencil on a small desk and headed toward them with a smile. Abigail did the same. Everyone helped themselves to the luscious pastries and tea, and soon all were seated enjoying their treat.

Chastity feared if this kept up, she'd gain weight in her new position. Speaking of which… "Mrs. Pettigrew, we delivered the invitations, dropped your order off at the printers, and now I think I should be about my duties."

"Duties?" Dalton… that is Mr. Simpson—when did she start thinking of him by his Christian name?—looked at her, his eyebrows knit in curiosity. "What sort of duties?" He smiled at Mrs. Pettigrew. "I thought she was your guest."

Mrs. Pettigrew sat regally and smiled at him. "She is whatever I desire her to be. Right now, she needs my help, and I will give it to her in whatever way I see fit. Running errands and performing a few other duties for me helps me to help her." She set down her teacup. "Which brings me to my new list. Tugs?"

Mr. Tugs wiped his mouth with a napkin, rose from his chair, knees cracking, and shuffled back to the small desk he'd been standing near earlier. He plucked the paper off the desk and brought it to her.

Mrs. Pettigrew placed her diamond studded monocle over one eye and read over the list. "Excellent Tugs. This is all we'll need." She handed it back. "Give it to Miss Eastwick."

Tugs did, and Chastity began to read it, Dalton leaning toward her to get a peek. "Preparations for your ball," she said in a soft voice.

"Indeed they are, ma chérie , and I want you and Dalton to take care of everything on that list."

"Dalton… um, I mean, Mr. Simpson?" Chastity said.

"Of course, you can't be running about by yourself." Mrs. Pettigrew reached for her teacup. The woman had spoken and was now settling into the sofa, eyeing the box of cream puffs.

Chastity cast Dalton a worried glance.

"I can help, Miss Eastwick," he said, looking into her eyes. "Though I'm afraid we'll have to work around my hours at my father's office."

"Give Miss Eastwick a schedule," Mrs. Pettigrew said. "I'll make sure she's available at the appropriate times."

"That would help." He nodded at the list in her hand. "May I?"

Chastity handed it to him and watched him read it. "Hmm, many of these things will require our attention in the late afternoons and evenings. I can work with that." He smiled at Chastity and handed it back. "May I get a copy of this?"

"I'll make you one, sir," Tugs said, speaking for the first time.

Chastity noticed neither servant spoke much during their tea other than to compliment Mrs. Baumeister's cream puffs. She'd done far more talking, telling Mrs. Pettigrew of the other treats the bakery carried. Not that the woman didn't already know. She'd probably been to the bakery hundreds of times.

Dalton handed Mr. Tugs the list, and he shuffled back to the desk and sat. While he wrote out a second list, Chastity noticed Abigail was still seated, sipping her tea. How often did the servants take tea with their employer? She gave Dalton a sidelong glance, and noticed he made no qualms about it.

Chastity blinked in confusion. Who took tea with their servants and thought nothing of it? For the second time that day she fought a sigh and remembered what Mrs. Pettigrew said about not running a conventional household.

She sat back in her chair and decided to enjoy what remained of her tea. She was going to have to learn to adapt to situations quickly around here. She might be sipping tea with the wealthy widow and neighbor, but tomorrow be serving it.

Mr. Tugs brought the copied list to Dalton and handed it to him. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you, Tugs." Dalton folded the paper and stuffed it in a pocket of his jacket. "Now, if there's nothing else, I must be going. I have a meeting with my father. He'll be wondering where I've been all day."

Chastity's brow creased with worry. "Oh, dear, I hope we haven't kept you."

He got to his feet. "Trust me, when I tell him I've been doing things for Mrs. Pettigrew, he won't mind at all." He nodded at Tugs, who shuffled out of the drawing room to fetch his coat, hat and gloves. "I will see you tomorrow. Four o'clock?"

"Splendid," Mrs. Pettigrew said. She watched him as Tugs brought his things, and Dalton shrugged into his coat then put on his hat and gloves. He turned to Chastity. "Miss Eastwick, I look forward to our next meeting."

"Then running more errands?" she teased without thinking.

"Of course." He smiled at her, his gaze lingering longer than was proper, before he turned on his heel and left the drawing room.

Mrs. Pettigrew watched him go, her look assessing, then turned to Chastity with a wide smile. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"Excuse me?"

Mrs. Pettigrew's smile stayed in place as she elegantly rose from her chair. "I find that I'm tired. Abigail, will you familiarize Miss Eastwick with her morning duties?"

Before Chastity could say a word, her employer glided out of the room toward the grand staircase and began her ascent. Chastity watched her go, admiring the statuesque woman's gate. She even made going up a flight of stairs look good.

As soon as she disappeared up the stairs, Chastity turned to Abigail. "Is she alright?"

Abigail looked toward the stairs. "She tires easily some days, when she's missing Mr. Pettigrew."

An ache formed in Chastity's chest. "I see." She absently rubbed it. "And I understand. Grief can be very… draining at times."

Abigail stood, went to Chastity's chair, and patted her on the shoulder. "That it can. I'm sorry for your loss."

Chastity put a hand over Abigail's. "Thank you." She stood and took a deep breath. "Now, what sort of duties does Mrs. Pettigrew have in mind?"

"Come, I'll show you." Abigail left the drawing room, Chastity right behind her.

They went down a hall and Abigail showed her the breakfast room, the library, Mrs. Pettigrew's office, her private drawing room, and finally, the kitchen, where she introduced her to Mrs. Pettigrew's cook, Mrs. Fraser.

Mrs. Fraser looked her over. "Hmmm, you're sort of scrawny, aren't you? Well, there's no help for it, I suppose. Let's put you two to work. See them dishes?" She nodded at the sink.

"Yes, ma'am." Chastity headed straight for them.

"I asked if you saw them, I didn't tell you to do them," Mrs. Fraser snapped.

Chastity turned around, wide-eyed. "Then what would you like me to do?"

Mrs. Fraser took in the beautiful plum day dress Chastity wore. "Well, you can't be doing chores in that frock. There's a dress laid out in your room. Go put it on."

Chastity exchanged a look with Abigail and tried not to gape at her. Abigail shrugged. "Best do as she says. I'll take care of the dishes."

Chastity nodded as she spied a set of servant's stairs and headed for them.

"Not that way," Mrs. Fraser barked at her. "Go back the way you came and take the main staircase."

Chastity motioned to the stairs. "But…"

"Do it," Mrs. Fraser said in a tone that brooked no argument.

She nodded and left the kitchen. She hoped she could find her way back to the grand foyer. Sometimes her sense of direction wasn't the best.

Once in her room she spied the simple brown frock a woman of the upper middle class might choose to wear to do some gardening in one's solarium or outdoors.

Chastity changed and returned downstairs as fast as she could. She didn't want to keep Mrs. Fraser waiting.

When she entered the kitchen, Abigail was doing the dishes. Mrs. Fraser handed Chastity a heavy shawl and a basket with a list in it. "Gather these herbs for me. You'll find them in the herb garden outside. You can use that door there." She nodded at a door at the other end of the large kitchen.

"Don't dawdle," Mrs. Fraser tacked on.

Chastity gave her a curt nod and left the kitchen. She hadn't seen the grounds yet. Not far from the kitchen door she found a path that led down the side of the house to a gate. Near the gate was an herb garden. Thank goodness everything was marked. Chastity studied her surroundings and wondered what lay beyond the gate. A large, trimmed hedge blocked her view. No matter, she was sure to see them at some point. Probably while washing windows.