Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

I t was all Chastity could do to get through dinner. Joseph, the young man that leered as she came down the stairs earlier, kept stealing glances at her from across the table. He was seated next to Dalton, which made it hard to steal little glances at him. Twice she caught Joseph watching her as she sneaked a peek at Dalton, and each time, Joseph gave her a smug look, as if she couldn't keep her eyes off him .

She shuddered at the thought as she got dressed the next morning in yet another new outfit. A dark brown day dress trimmed in black lace. When she came downstairs, she was led into the breakfast room by Mr. Tugs. Mrs. Pettigrew was already there making herself a plate.

"Do join me, ma chérie . I trust you slept well?" She turned to her, a plate of food in her hands. "Mrs. Fraser has outdone herself this morning."

Chastity's mouth watered at the sight and smell of the food. She was so nervous last night she hardly ate a thing. She made for the breakfast buffet and took a plate. "Thank you."

Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a smile and took a seat at the table. She patiently waited for Chastity to make her plate and sit before she clasped her hands in front of her and said a quick blessing.

Chastity whispered, "Amen," then dug in. There were fried potatoes, flapjacks, bacon, scrambled eggs and biscuits. One thing for sure, she wasn't going to starve working for Mrs. Pettigrew. Which made her think. "Ma'am, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, ma chérie ." She took a delicate bite of her eggs.

"When will I start my duties as a maid?"

Mrs. Pettigrew set down her fork with a clink. " Ma chérie , you have been doing your duties."

Chastity hunched her shoulders, her head sinking into them. "Not officially. I've yet to don my maid's uniform."

Mrs. Pettigrew heaved a sigh. "What does it matter what you wear? You are helping me, and I am helping you. Does one need to wear a maid's uniform to make things official? Besides, you have been dressed in exactly what you need for each task I've had you perform." She got back to eating, obviously through with the conversation.

Chastity stared at her, then at her own outfit. "And what will my duties be today?"

Mrs. Pettigrew poured some syrup on her flapjacks and smiled. "Today you will act as my secretary and later run some errands for me with that nice Mr. Simpson."

She slowly nodded. "As I recall from the list Mr. Tugs made, that includes visiting the lake where they ice skate and speaking to the owner about an ice-skating party?"

"Indeed, it does." Mrs. Pettigrew frowned. "You do skate, don't you?"

"Yes, but…"

"Excellent. Then you'll be fine."

Chastity's eyebrows shot up. "Fine for what?"

"Skating of course." Her employer smiled again and cut into her flapjacks.

Chastity blinked in confusion. Had the woman gone completely round the bend? Skating? She needed to take another look at that list. "What is the point?"

Mrs. Pettigrew looked up from her food. "Hmmm?"

"Of skating?"

"To inspect the ice, of course. You don't think I'm going to hold an ice-skating party with poor quality ice."

She gaped at her. "I… beg your pardon?"

Mrs. Pettigrew sighed in exasperation. " Ma chérie , you have a lot to learn about ice. I can't have my guests skating over lumps and bumps and falling. I want you and Mr. Simpson to inspect every inch of that frozen lake." She gave Chastity a curt nod and got back to eating.

Chastity continued to stare, her mouth hanging open like a fish. Was her employer mad? Perhaps so. But Chastity needed to work. She had nothing. No money, no place to live, and no job save this one. She'd have to play along if she wanted to survive. All right then, she could do that. "What exactly is my position, ma'am?"

Mrs. Pettigrew looked at her as if a second nose popped onto her face. "Is it not clear? You are a maid. But that can mean a lot of things in my household. I am holding you in the strictest confidence that you will keep your duties to yourself."

"But what of Mr. Simpson?" she had to ask.

"He's one of the good ones, and I trust him to escort you about town while you work. But I suggest you not tell him your title."

Chastity hung her head. "Yes, ma'am, I understand." Indeed, she understood all too well. He'd refuse to escort her otherwise. What employer escorts his maid about town let alone someone else's? It just wasn't done. Even she knew that much.

She ate her meal in silence as Mrs. Pettigrew placed her monocle over one eye and began to read The Denver Post. She had to admit, Mrs. Pettigrew was right, she didn't want to tell anyone of her position. What if the Fergusons or someone else from last night's dinner found out they had dined with a lowly maid? Would it harm Mrs. Pettigrew's reputation? Worse, would it cost Chastity her job? She'd just have to go along with this madness and do as her employer said.

She finished breakfast, then retired to the main drawing room with Mrs. Pettigrew, who dictated a half dozen letters to her. Chastity did her best to keep up and would have to recopy them with neater penmanship and set about doing so after lunch. By the time she finished, Dalton arrived.

"Good afternoon," he said happily as he entered the drawing room. He didn't bother giving Mr. Tugs his hat, coat and gloves. "Are you ready to go?" He noticed the stack of letters. "Did you have more work to do first?"

"She is free," Mrs. Pettigrew assured from the other side of the room. She stood before a tall window that went three quarters up the wall. All the windows in the main drawing room were the same size. Chastity's family's home could easily have fit inside the manse.

She tried not to think about it as she rose from the small desk and stretched. Chastity put a hand to her sore back. A walk would do her good. "I'll fetch my…"

"Your coat, Miss Eastwick," Mr. Tugs said and entered the drawing room.

She stared at it, along with the hat and matching gloves. Part of her wanted to keep the clothes she was allowed to wear. But Chastity knew they were just part of her "uniform," as Mrs. Pettigrew said. She'd best remember it too and take special care not to let anything happen to her clothes.

"Allow me," Dalton said. He took the coat and other things from Mr. Tugs and crossed the room to her. "You look lovely, Miss Eastwick."

Chastity swallowed hard. Slap a maid's uniform on her and then see what he said. She brushed the thought aside. "Thank you." Chastity took in his brown coat and dark suit underneath. "So do you."

He smiled. "I do like a woman who speaks her mind."

She made a scoffing sound then quickly looked away and squeezed her eyes shut. What she did was rude, and she didn't dare let on that she wasn't in the same social class as he was.

Chastity turned back. "Forgive me."

"For what?" he asked amused. "You speak your mind, I like that."

She slowly cocked her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What I did was rude."

"Not in the least." He took a step closer. "You were being honest, Chastity."

She stilled at the sound of her name escaping his lips.

"You don't mind if I call you Chastity, do you? I know we've just met, but… friends do call each other by their Christian names."

She looked him in the eyes. "You wish to be friends?"

His head tilted ever so slightly as he returned her gaze. "Yes. I do." He backed up as his eyebrows shot up. "See? Honest."

Chastity smiled. He had a point, and she understood it. "Then… may I call you Dalton?"

"Of course, but we'd best mind ourselves in polite company." He leaned toward her and waggled his eyebrows. "There are some that wouldn't approve."

She nodded, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Chastity also realized she was enjoying his playful banter. Perhaps a bit too much. "We should go."

"Indeed." He handed her the hat and smiled as she pinned it in place. He then helped her shrug into her coat before handing her the gloves.

Chastity noticed Mrs. Pettigrew watching them, a slight smile on her face. She stood before a window, and Chastity realized she hadn't looked out that particular window yet. She went to the other side of the room to join her employer. "We're going now." Chastity looked out the window and saw a huge hedge maze on the other side of an expansive piece of lawn. The urge to see more took hold, but so did Dalton as he took her by the arm. "Come, Miss Eastwick. Let us go speak to a man about ice."

She turned, and her heart melted at the contented look on his face. Dare she think he was happy to be spending time with her? But did it really matter?

Her eyes became downcast as she nodded. "Yes, let's. Goodbye, Mrs. Pettigrew."

"Goodbye, ma chérie . Remember, I want you two to cover every inch of that ice."

"What's this?" Dalton asked with a smile.

"I'll explain on the way," Chastity said.

Dalton shrugged happily and steered her toward the grand foyer. Mr. Tugs saw them out, and they were on their way.

"Now, what's all this about ice?" he asked as they went through the gate.

To Chastity's surprise a giggle escaped. "She wants us to inspect the ice by skating."

Dalton laughed and offered her his arm. "Well, I suppose I can't blame her. After all, can you picture Mrs. Ferguson tripping over a stick or some other thing and falling on her generous backside?"

She gasped. "Dalton!"

"I'm only being honest." He smiled as he looped her arm around his and started up the sidewalk.

Chastity had to admit, he was right. Still, she fought against a smile lest it turn into more. She didn't want to laugh at the woman's expense.

They chatted along the way and were soon entering the business district near the neighborhood. It was full of small shops and eateries. There was a lovely park she spied on their last outing, and she had to admit she was excited to see the frozen lake where the ice skating took place.

They passed a man selling bags of roasted nuts and another selling some sort of candy. They had to be getting closer to the lake. When they reached it, Dalton smiled at her. "Are you ready to perform our inspection?"

She giggled. "I hope so."

"Good. Because here we go." He led her to a shack where a man was handing out skates.

Dalton approached; his head held high. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ross. We're here to inspect your ice."