Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

T he following evening it was all Holly could do not to fidget. She was meeting Joseph’s father for the first time and wanted to make a good impression. She wasn’t sure why. It’s not as if Joseph was interested in the likes of her no matter what Mrs. Pettigrew implied.

She wore a copper-colored gown decorated with brown tear-drop shaped beads. It was the fanciest dress she’d worn to date, even out shining the pink gown she wore to dinner when Joseph escorted her from one room to the next. Such an evening it was! Holly felt like a fairy princess, and for a few moments pretended Joseph was her handsome prince.

“Stop fussing with your hair, ma petite ,” Mrs. Pettigrew scolded. “You’ll muss all of Abigail’s hard work.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Holly sat in her usual chair by the fire and fought the urge to pace.

“Mr. Bradshaw is a reasonable man once you get to know him. He still grieves the loss of his wife, I’m afraid. Just as I grieve the passing of my dear, sweet Xavier.”

Holly mustered up a smile for Mrs. Pettigrew. She knew the pain of losing one’s parents but couldn’t begin to imagine the loss of a spouse. “I’m still nervous about meeting him.”

Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a warm smile. “It is understandable.”

“It is?”

“Of course.” She winked at Holly. “Joseph is turning out to be quite the young man, and you are taken with him, oui ?”

Holly gasped. “That, no… I… of course not.”

Her new employer laughed.

Holly went red as a beet. “Besides, what does it matter if I were to get sweet on him? He has no interest in me. Even if I am working for you.”

Mrs. Pettigrew’s laughter doubled. “Oh, ma petite , you have much to learn!”

Holly unconsciously wiped her gloved hands on the skirt of her dress. Good grief, was she sweating?

She caught sight of Mr. Tugs as he made his way to the front door. Did the bell ring? She didn’t even hear it!

Sure enough, he opened the door, greeted someone, then stepped out of the way allowing Joseph and an older gentleman to enter the house. He took their coats and hats and headed for the closet. The men didn’t wait for Mr. Tugs to announce them and entered the drawing room.

“Mrs. Pettigrew,” the older gentleman said. “It’s so nice to see you again. I trust you enjoyed your skating party?”

“I did, though you were not there to partake in the festivities.”

“I’m afraid I had too much to do. I apologize for my absence.” He gave her a small bow, then took her hand and kissed it. “But I’m here now.” He let go her hand and straightened. “And look forward to a pleasant evening.”

Holly gulped. It was all so formal, and she wasn’t accustomed to such things.

She gulped again when Mr. Bradshaw turned to her. She took in his salt-and-pepper hair, his strong features, the same ones Joseph possessed, as he studied her with brown eyes.

“May I introduce my new assistant, Miss Holly Turtledove,” Mrs. Pettigrew said and swept an arm toward Holly.

She stood, not knowing what else to do, and crossed the room to them.

“Holly, this is Joseph’s father, Mr. Humphrey Bradshaw,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “He’s in steel, among other things.”

Mr. Bradshaw took Holly by the hand and kissed it just as he’d done Mrs. Pettigrew’s. She did her best not to snatch her hand away. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, straightening. “So, you now work for Mrs. Pettigrew? How fortuitous for you that she needed another assistant.”

Holly noted Joseph eyeing his father and wondered if his comment was meant as a slight. “Yes, indeed.”

Mr. Bradshaw turned toward Mrs. Pettigrew. “I’m sure this one won’t be getting herself betrothed any time soon. You may have a chance to train her up.”

“I intend to. But one never knows. Some handsome young man in want of a wife might come along and snatch her away from me. Alas, then I’ll have to find myself yet another assistant.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Bradshaw said with a chuckle. “I doubt such a man exists in this neighborhood. For where else would he come from? She’s not fit for anyone from our class.”

Mrs. Pettigrew bristled, her back going ramrod straight. “Don’t be so sure, Mr. Bradshaw. Look at Chastity and Dalton.”

Mr. Bradshaw arched an eyebrow but said nothing more.

Holly didn’t know much about Chastity’s background. She was Mrs. Pettigrew’s former assistant, and therefore part of the “working class” as far as anyone was concerned. Now that she thought of it, the fact a man like Dalton Simpson had asked her to marry him, was unusual, but what were the chances of the same thing happening to her?

Joseph came alongside Holly. “Good evening. You look lovely.”

Holly blushed. “Thank you.” She took in his evening wear. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He smiled at his attire, then her. “Don’t mind my father,” he whispered. “He wants nothing to ever change. But one cannot move forward with the times with that sort of thinking.”

Holly nodded, not quite understanding what he was talking about, and jumped when Mr. Tugs announced dinner was ready.

Joseph offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Holly noticed Mr. Bradshaw had offered his arm to Mrs. Pettigrew. She took it as they chatted about her skating party and all the fun he’d missed. “Your father scares me,” she confessed.

Joseph chuckled. “That’s quite alright. He scares half our employees, including me sometimes. But he’s an old softie when it comes down to it. Don’t let him intimidate you. Just be yourself this evening.”

She hung her head. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

He turned to her, put a finger to her chin, and lifted her face to his. “You’re sweet, kind, forthright and willing to work hard for Mrs. Pettigrew. Those are all admirable qualities in my book.” He winked. “That and you like to read.” He gave her hand a pat and continued toward the dining room.

Holly let him pull her chair out for her, sat, and tried not to fidget. She wished Chastity and Dalton were dining with them tonight, but they were attending a ballet. She watched Joseph, who sat across the table from her, and followed his lead when it came to which fork or spoon to pick up next. The first course was served, then the second, and the conversation centered around Mr. Bradshaw’s talk of his factories and the small steel mill he owned. Mrs. Pettigrew asked him what Holly interpreted as hard business questions, and she quickly formed a newfound respect for the woman’s obvious business savvy. Mr. Bradshaw seemed to hang on every word that came out of Mrs. Pettigrew’s mouth, as did Joseph, who for the most part kept quiet. When he did enter the conversation, he asked questions, and even his father listened to his son’s subsequent conversation with their hostess.

By the time the main course came, Mrs. Pettigrew had managed to help the two see a better way to handle some of their manufacturing, and Holly marveled at the intelligent conversation. She also marveled at the fact she was able to understand a lot of it.

“I hope we’re not boring you,” Joseph said as they finished their main course of roasted pheasant.

“Not at all, I found your conversation very interesting. In fact, it’s not much different than raising chickens and selling eggs. You make a product people need, sell it to them, then find out how to sell more.”

He smiled. “And what would you sell if you only sell eggs?”

“Milk, of course, or chickens. I could also raise the grain to make into feed and sell that.”

Mr. Bradshaw and Mrs. Pettigrew’s current conversation stopped. They stared at her, the latter with a big smile on her face, the former with a frown.

Holly dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and once again willed herself not to fidget.

“What’s this?” Mr. Bradshaw said.

Joseph smiled. “It might interest you to know, Father, that Miss Turtledove understands business.”

Mr. Bradshaw’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Is that so? And how would she know anything of business?”

“Come now, Humphrey,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “You know nothing of Miss Turtledove’s background. How can you make the assumption that she knows nothing?”

Mr. Bradshaw’s cheeks flushed. It was the first time all evening that Mrs. Pettigrew used his Christian name. Did it take him by surprise?

“Oh, well, I only meant…”

“You think she’s brainless because she’s not one of us?” Mrs. Pettigrew stated. She sat back in her chair with a casual air and waited for his answer.

“I didn’t mean to imply the girl was stupid, just that…”

“Someone from her class couldn’t possibly know anything about business?” Joseph challenged.

Mr. Bradshaw glanced between them then eyed Holly. “What is your background, girl?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” Mrs. Pettigrew said as if scandalized. “Do not address my assistant as if she’s some beggar in the streets.”

Mr. Bradshaw narrowed his eyes at her. “Adelia, I’m only going to say this once. That girl could be nothing but trouble for you! You’d be wise to be rid of her before it’s too late!”

Holly gasped.

“Father!” Joseph snapped.

“Well, what is one to think? It’s all over town that she’s taken in some guttersnipe.”

Tears stung the backs of Holly’s eyes. “Y-y-you don’t know me, sir. How d-d-dare you!” Of course, he was right. She was no better than a beggar, the lowest of the low. But that was in her past. She had a job as an assistant to a rich widow, and by golly she’d do whatever it took to better herself and become the woman Mrs. Pettigrew wanted her to be.

“You’re upsetting my assistant,” her employer pointed out. “Besides, do you honestly think I would hire someone incapable of performing the duties of the position?” Her eyes narrowed at Mr. Bradshaw, who blanched.

“No, Adelia, of course not…”

“Seems to me you’re insulting my intelligence,” Mrs. Pettigrew drawled. “How boorish and unintelligent of you.”

Mr. Bradshaw gulped. “I apologize. I didn’t mean it to come across as an affront to you…”

“But that’s exactly what you did.” She turned to Joseph. “You’ve spent plenty of time with Holly. What do you think of her?”

Joseph smiled. Holly took in his look and half of her melted while the other panicked. “I find Miss Turtledove to be kind, sweet, clever, and firm when she has to be. She’s also witty, and… well read.” His smile grew as he locked gazes with her. “In fact, she has all the fine qualities of a good wife.”

Holly gasped. So did Mr. Bradshaw. “Just what are you saying?” His father asked.

“Well if you can’t figure it out, Father, then there’s something wrong with your intelligence.”

Holly stared at him, slacked jawed. Was Joseph saying what she thought he was?