Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

T he next several days went by much as the others did. Holly came downstairs for a little while, and when tired, returned to her room to rest. Today was New Year’s Eve, and she was looking forward to joining Mrs. Pettigrew, Chastity and Mr. Simpson, her betrothed, and Joseph for dinner. He didn’t visit her this afternoon for fear of tiring her out before the evening meal, and she wanted to enjoy a more formal dinner in the impressive mansion. She was still marveling over the library and its many books. What a wonderful room! She could live in it!

“The pink I think,” Mrs. Pettigrew was saying as she entered Holly’s room. “Ah, wonderful! You’re not napping.” She went to the chair by the bed and sat. “I’m having some dresses made for you, ma petite , and we need your measurements.”

Holly gaped at her. “What?” She looked at the woman now standing in the doorway. “Is… that a dressmaker?”

“Yes, it is, and she is in a hurry. Mrs. Cortez must return to her shop, you see.”

Holly tossed aside the throw she’d put over her legs to keep them warm. “Very well.” She left the bed. “Where do you want me?”

“First you must strip down to your underthings,” Mrs. Cortez instructed. She looked at her over her spectacles, and Holly noted the measuring ribbon draped over her shoulders. “Yes, of course.”

Mrs. Pettigrew rose to help. “I’m having a few day dresses made, some tea dresses, and of course you’ll need several ball gowns to get started…”

“What?” Holly breathed. “No, no I don’t need…”

“You will,” Mrs. Pettigrew cut in. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Cortez?”

“Indeed.” The dressmaker stood straight before the window, still eyeing Holly over the rim of her spectacles. She reminded her of a strict, sour-looking schoolmarm itching to punish a student.

Holly stilled as Mrs. Pettigrew unbuttoned the back of the day dress she wore. “But…”

“Don’t argue, ma petite , this is something I wish to do for you. As my assistant, you will be expected to attend some of the same social functions I do.”

Her shoulders slumped. Okay, that made sense. “I see.” She took off her dress, the petticoat, and let Mrs. Cortez measure her for new clothes. By the time she was done Holly felt like she had to lie down and did. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but soon Abigail was waking her to help her dress for dinner.

“Does everyone always change their clothes just to eat in the formal dining room?”

Abigail laughed. “Of course, silly lass.” She presented Holly with a beautiful pink dress trimmed in white lace. The pink taffeta material shimmered, and it reminded Holly of icing on a cake.

“I’ve never worn anything so lovely,” she whispered. “I… I don’t know what to say.” She pinched her arm, felt the pain, and still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a dream.

“Ye have yerself a good time, tonight, miss,” Abigail advised. “Ye’ll be set to rights soon enough and then yer job will start. Mrs. Pettigrew is a fair mistress, but she’s busy, that one. Ye’ll not lack for things to do.”

Holly nodded, determined to do well for her new employer. She could read and write and do sums, but wasn’t sure if that was going to be enough. “Abigail…”

“Aye?”

“What if… what if I’m not good enough?”

Abigail stopped helping her on with a fresh petticoat. “Nonsense, ye’ll be fine. Chastity got a job here as a maid and wound up as Mrs. Pettigrew’s assistant. And she’s done all right.”

Holly drew in a deep breath and let it out. “But what if I’m not smart enough?”

“Of course ye are. Ye were smart enough to hide in Mrs. Pettigrew’s carriage to escape the cold, and ye made it all the way here in a snowstorm. That takes gumption, fortitude, not to mention a courageous heart.”

Holly hadn’t thought of that and smiled at her words. “Thank you, Abigail, for saying such nice things.”

“True things, ye mean.” She went around Holly and began to tighten her corset. I’ll not make this too tight. I’m sure ye want to be able to breathe in case ye start coughing. Though I notice ye’ve not been doing that as much.”

“Nor at night. In fact, I seem to be recovering faster than what the doctor thought, aren’t I?”

“Oh, aye,” Abigail said happily. “Ye’ll be up and about like normal folks in no time.” She got on with her work and when she was done, took the dress from the bed and helped her on with it.

“How do I look?” Holly asked.

Abigail finished with the last few buttons then stepped in front of her. “Like a fairy princess!”

Holly blushed then went to stand before the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. “Oh my!”

“Now yer hair! And I have just the thing to put in it!” Abigail went to the vanity and practically shoved Holly into the chair.

She laughed at the maid and noticed that all the servants in Mrs. Pettigrew’s employ seemed healthy and happy. Had she met them all? “Abigail?”

“Aye, miss?” She continued to pile Holly’s long blond hair atop her head in an intricate style.

“How big is the staff here?”

“Not large at all, miss. “I’m the only maid, then there’s Mrs. Fraser the cook, Mr. Tugs the butler, Mr. Prosser the stable master and Mr. Bekins the gardener, though Mr. Tugs often helps him out as he has a thing for plants and shrubbery.”

Holly’s eyes widened. “Is that enough?”

“For Mrs. Pettigrew it is. Except of course when she hosts a ball or party. Then she sometimes hires extra help. Having ye here will be a blessing, I can tell ye that.”

Holly stared at herself and Abigail in the mirror. She knew rich people did some strange things, and she’d heard a few times during her stay that Mrs. Pettigrew was a little eccentric. Joseph let it slip during some of their conversations over the last couple of days.

Joseph. He would be her escort tonight. He’d teased her about it yesterday during another excursion to the library. He’d be escorting her from the drawing room to the dining room!

She giggled at the thought, catching Abigail’s attention. The maid’s eyebrows shot up, and she smiled.

“It’s nothing,” Holly said. “Just a stray thought.”

Abigail kept smiling as she continued her work. When she was done, she stepped back. “Well?”

Holly sat stunned. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get the flowers?”

“The hothouse, of course.” Abigail adjusted a few pins then sighed in satisfaction. “Ye should be going to a grand ball, instead of the dining room for dinner.”

Holly blushed. “Dinner in the dining room is fine by me. I’ve never been to a ball and wouldn’t know how to act.”

Abigail patted her on the shoulder and started to put the hair things away. “Don’t forget yer gloves.”

Holly gasped. “There’s gloves too?”

“Of course. They’re on the bed.”

She spied them and turned to the mirror again. The only jewelry Holly wore was a pearl necklace and some matching earrings. The white satin gloves would top off the outfit, and she really would look like a princess! Minus the tiara of course. But from what she heard, rich people wore them just like royalty did. It seemed scandalous to her.

Holly pulled on the gloves. “There, I’m ready.”

Abigail preened and clasped her hands before her. “Poor Mr. Bradshaw doesn’t stand a chance with you in that dress. Yer picture perfect!”

Holly’s face fell. “What?”

Abigail blushed. “Oh, nothing.” She plastered on a smile and shooed Holly from the room. “Off with ye now. Downstairs ye go!”

Holly wanted to ask her more about Joseph, but decided she’d ask Joseph herself if she got the chance.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs in black evening wear. She’d never seen him dressed so fine, and almost tripped midway down the staircase!

Joseph hurried up the stairs to her. “Holly!”

She gripped the stair rail. “I’m alright. Just clumsy.”

He stood before her, as if she’d go tumbling down the stairs at any moment. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded as she looked into his eyes. “You look… wonderful.”

“You really think so? You’re not looking at my clothes.”

A blush heated her cheeks, and she looked away. “I saw enough.”

He tucked a finger under her chin and brought her face back to his. “I know. Then you tripped.”

She giggled. “So, it was your fault, is that it?”

“It seems so.” He came alongside her and offered his arm. “Here, you can hang onto me and the railing.”

“Probably wise. I always was clumsy.”

“If that’s true, then no doubt being weak as a kitten while ill doesn’t help. I’m so glad you’ve recovered enough to join us for dinner.”

“Do you eat here often?”

He slowed, as if thinking about his answer, then stopped. “To tell you the truth, I’ve spent more time here with you than I have while attending any of Mrs. Pettigrew’s balls, parties, or dinners. But my father and I were here for a dinner Mrs. Pettigrew hosted before Christmas. Considering my behavior, I’m surprised she invited us to her Christmas ball.”

She frowned. “What did you do?”

“I told you I’m trying to change my ways. I was, in a word, selfish and uncharitable.”

“That’s two words,” she said without thinking.

He smiled at her. “You are a dear.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he said nothing more on the matter. Should she ask about the comment Abigail made about him earlier? Would that be considered improper?

Chastity and Mr. Simpson were already in the drawing room standing in front of the Christmas tree. “Holly, it’s so good to see you up and around,” Chastity said.

Mr. Simpson inclined his head to them. “Bradshaw. Miss Turtledove.”

“It’s good to see you again, sir,” Holly greeted.

“You look much improved,” he said in return. “Chastity and I were just discussing Adelia’s skating party tomorrow.”

“It’s a shame you aren’t well enough to attend,” Chastity said.

Joseph patted Holly’s hand. “She’ll be entertained all the same.”

“What’s this?” Mr. Simpson said.

Joseph smiled. “I’ll be keeping her company along with Mrs. Fraser while the rest of you enjoy the party.”

Mr. Simpson smiled. “Wonderful. I was afraid you’d be bored to tears all by yourself.”

“No,” Holly said. “Joseph offered to stay with me so I wouldn’t be in this big house alone. Even though Mrs. Fraser will be here, it hardly seems so when she’s so far away in the kitchen.”

“But she’ll be joining us for lunch tomorrow,” Joseph said, “and we’ll play a game or some such thing.”

Mr. Simpson smiled. “That’s Adelia for you. What other person in our class would let her cook lunch and play games with a recovering houseguest and Bradshaw here?”

Holly felt Joseph stiffen next to her. Had Mr. Simpson been referring to something else? She pushed the thought aside as Mrs. Pettigrew joined them and sat in her favorite chair. Maybe she should ask her what Abigail’s little comment meant.