Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

J oseph Bradshaw was just coming down his walk to the front gate when he spied Mrs. Pettigrew’s stable master, Mr. Prosser running into the Simpsons’ house. “What the devil?” Joseph went through the gate and crossed the street. He made his way a few houses down to the Simpsons’ and hovered near the gate. It wasn’t long before Mr. Prosser emerged from the house, Dalton Simpson in tow, and hurried for the gate.

“Simpson, what is it?” Joseph called. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s trouble at Mrs. Pettigrew’s.” Dalton went through the gate and hurried down the sidewalk toward the Pettigrew mansion.

“What?” Joseph trotted after him and noted Mr. Prosser was hurrying in the opposite direction. “Where’s her stable master going?”

Dalton Simpson, stopped at Mrs. Pettigrew’s drive located between her property and the next, and hurried down it. “To fetch a doctor. Come on, Bradshaw, you can help.”

Joseph’s eyes widened. “Is someone hurt? Is it Chastity?” Chastity Eastwick was Dalton’s betrothed. He proposed Christmas Day to the young lady, but no wedding plans had been made yet.

Joseph followed Dalton down the drive to the stable and carriage house at the back of the property.

Chastity was waiting outside the carriage house. “In here.” She waved them inside where they found Mrs. Pettigrew standing next to the open door of one of her carriages.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. She eyed Joseph but said nothing. He hadn’t exactly been the nicest of people over the last few months. Make that years and had a lot to atone for. But old habits were hard to break, and he was the first to admit it was hard to change.

“Adelia,” Dalton said as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed at the interior of the carriage. “I need her brought into the house.”

Dalton exchanged a look with Joseph, and the two went to the open door and looked inside. “Great Scott!” Joseph exclaimed. “Is she…?”

“Not yet,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “But she is very ill judging from her fever. Please, we need to get her inside and into a bed.”

Joseph stared at the bedraggled looking specimen curled up on the carriage seat. She’d wrapped herself in a wool blanket. “Was she in here all night?”

“Looks that way,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “Dalton, be a dear and bring her.” She turned on her heel and left the carriage house.

“Mrs. Fraser is already making some broth for her,” Chastity informed them.

“Good,” Dalton said. “Joseph, give me a hand.”

The two men gently pulled the young woman from the carriage, and since it was easiest for Joesph to get a good hold of her, he carried her out of the carriage house and headed for the manse.

“Careful now,” Dalton said. “Don’t slip.”

“I won’t,” Joseph said. “She weighs nothing.”

Dalton put an arm around Chastity. “You just found her?”

“Yes. Well, Mr. Prosser did.” She practically had to trot to keep up with their longer legs.

Joseph didn’t slow. The young woman in his arms looked flushed with fever, and he knew how dangerous that could be. “What the devil was she doing in Mrs. Pettigrew’s carriage?”

“Seeking shelter,” Chastity said. “At least, that’s what we think.”

“You mean to tell me she was out in that storm last night?” Dalton asked.

“Looks that way.” Chastity jogged toward the house. “I’ll inform Mrs. Fraser we’ve brought her to the house. Take her upstairs to whatever guest room Adelia wants to put her in.”

When Joseph and Dalton reached the manse, Dalton opened one of the French doors for him. “Do you want me to carry her the rest of the way, Bradshaw?”

“No,” Joseph said and went inside. “There’s not much to her.” He headed for the grand foyer and the staircase. Mrs. Pettigrew was waiting at the top of the stairs.

“Up here, gentlemen.”

Joseph carried his load up the stairs and followed Mrs. Pettigrew down the hall a few doors and into a guest room. The room was done in pale yellow and pink, and was cheery and bright.

“Put her on the bed, Mr. Bradshaw,” she ordered.

He’d just done so when Mrs. Fraser, the cook, entered the room. “Oh dear, will you look at that.” She picked up one of the young woman’s hands. “She’s hot.” Mrs. Fraser began to pull the blanket away.

“Let’s get her out of those clothes,” Mrs. Pettigrew said.

Chastity joined them. “I’ll help.”

“That’s our cue to leave, Bradshaw,” Dalton put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Come along.”

Joseph stared at the woman. She looked like she crawled out of some hole. Her long blonde hair was dirty, as was her face. Her clothes tattered and torn. “What’s that?”

Dalton turned around as Mrs. Fraser pulled a dress from around the young woman’s shoulders. “Looks like she was using that to keep warm,” he said.

“Looks like it needs to be burned,” Mrs. Fraser commented with disgust. She tossed the dress to the floor.

Joseph studied it. “Where did she come from?”

“We’ll find out when she comes to,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “If she does.”

Joseph’s chest tightened, and something deep within him stirred. “You’ll keep us informed?”

Mrs. Pettigrew looked up from her work. “If that’s what you wish.”

“I do.” He gave the women a nod and left the room with Dalton.

“You’ve lost your hat,” Dalton pointed out.

Joseph put a hand to his head. “I left it in the carriage house.” He took it off when he reached into the carriage to bring the young woman out. “I’ll get it.”

“I’ll wait here for the doctor,” Dalton said.

Joseph gave him a wave and retraced his steps to the French doors leading to the back of the property. He trudged through the snow to the carriage house all the while pondering what could have happened to the young woman now in Mrs. Pettigrew’s home. She looked poor, half starved. Which begged the question, what was she doing here? Why wasn’t she on the other side of town with the rest of the lower classes?

He entered the carriage house, saw his hat sitting on the back of the carriage, and retrieved it. He noted the carriage door was still open and went to close it. Joseph stopped up short when he spied a carpetbag on the carriage floor. “What’s this?”

He pulled it out and opened it. The only thing inside was a tattered Bible. He took it out and opened it.

“To my darling Holly. May the Lord bless you and keep you, my lovely daughter. Mother.” He looked in the carpetbag again to see if maybe he’d missed something. But no, it was empty. Joseph frowned. “You had nothing but a dirty dress and a Bible when you left?” He went to the side door of the carriage house closest to the gate and opened it. It snowed hard last night, so any footprints from last night were covered up this morning. But this must be how she got in.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Intriguing, and a mystery to be solved.” He closed the door, went to the carriage and looked at the door on this side. “You entered here, found the blanket, and wrapped yourself in it.” He nodded. “Okay, that wasn’t hard to figure out. But what were you doing here?”

Joseph left the carriage house and headed back to the manse. He didn’t expect to have so much excitement on his morning walk but got it anyway. Now what was he going to do with it? Mrs. Pettigrew had a ragamuffin in her home and had sent for the doctor. Would he have done the same thing?

Joseph was halfway back to the manse when he stopped. “I’d have probably called the police and had her removed from the premises.” He swallowed hard. He’d been less than charitable aside from being little more than a cad. He’d like to blame it on his association with Rebecca Harrington, but he couldn’t use her as an excuse.

When he reached the French doors, he went inside and waited with Dalton for the doctor. When he showed up, they let the balding Dr. Gibbons in and led him up to the patient’s room. By now Mrs. Pettigrew and the others had changed the young woman into a nightgown. Abigail, Mrs. Pettigrew’s maid, stood off to one side holding the young woman’s two dirty dresses. “What shall I do with these, Mrs. Pettigrew?”

“I still say we should burn them,” Mrs. Fraser groused. “Give them to me.” She snatched them out of Abigail’s hands and headed for the door. “Shall I bring some broth, Dr. Gibbons?”

Dr. Gibbons was examining the patient. “Not just yet, Mrs. Fraser. I’ll let you know when.” He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. We need to cool her down.”

“She’s in good hands now, Bradshaw,” Dalton said in a quiet voice. “Let’s leave the doctor to his work.”

Joseph glanced between him and the woman on the bed. “I found something in the carriage. I left it downstairs.” He stepped to the doctor and tapped him on the shoulder. “I believe her name is Holly.”

“Holly, you say?” Dr. Gibbons huffed. “Well, all right. Now give me some room.”

Joseph took one last look at the young woman, then left. Downstairs he and Dalton took tea in the formal drawing room.

“Thank you, Tugs,” Dalton said. “Bring some extra cups and saucers. I’m sure Chastity and Adelia will want some tea when they come down.”

“Yes, Mr. Simpson.” Tugs began to shuffle away. “Will you be staying, Mr. Bradshaw?”

Joseph looked toward the staircase. This was none of his business and besides, he had errands to run. “No, Tugs, thank you. I’ll finish my tea then take my leave.”

“As you wish, sir.” Tugs gave him a small bow and left the drawing room.

“Holly, eh?” Dalton said.

“Yes, it’s written in a Bible in the young lady’s carpetbag.” He nodded at a chair where he’d set it down after retrieving it then sending Tugs for tea.

Dalton took the Bible from the carpetbag and read the note written on one of the first few pages. “Hmmm, a gift from her mother. And nothing else in the bag?”

“No.” He turned to Dalton, cup and saucer in hand. “My guess is she left in a hurry. No time to pack.” He took a sip of tea and let the hot brew warm him.

“But what is she doing here?” Dalton mused.

Joseph thought about it. A young woman from the lower classes taking shelter in a carriage house in his neighborhood with nothing but a couple of dirty dresses and a Bible. “She’s running from something, Dalton.” He looked him in the eyes. “And I hope Mrs. Pettigrew discovers from what.”