Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

H olly opened her eyes slowly. She saw yellow, pink and red. Where was she? She blinked a few times and tried to focus, but it was difficult. The last thing she remembered was crawling into a carriage and praying she didn’t freeze to death. Oh no! Had she?

But her chest hurt, and her throat was sore, and she ached everywhere.

“Yer awake!” she heard a woman exclaim. “I’d better fetch Mrs. Pettigrew!”

Holly tried to track the sound of the woman’s voice but couldn’t manage it. She sounded like she had an Irish accent.

Holly closed her eyes and tried to breathe. It wasn’t easy, and even though she hadn’t caught her death, she was sick and felt terrible. What was to become of her? Where was she? And oh! Randall!

She opened her eyes, took in the four-poster canopied bed, the expensive linens and sheets and tried not to moan. Had Randall succeeded in selling her? Had he found her and dragged her off somewhere while she was locked in a fever induced sleep? She had a faint memory of being carried, then it was gone.

Holly tried to sit up but didn’t have the strength. “What happened to me?”

“You were discovered and rescued, ma petite .”

Holly turned her head toward the voice. A stunning woman with dark hair and crystal blue eyes was looking down at her. She wore an expensive looking dark blue dress and a diamond studded monocle over one eye. She was also smiling. “Who are you?” came out a whisper.

“I am Mrs. Pettigrew, and I’m going to see that you get well, mon cherie .”

Holly put a hand over her chest. “I am ill…”

“Yes, very, but we will set you to rights in no time. But first, what is your name my dear?”

“H-Holly… Tur…Turtledove.”

“Turtledove,” Mrs. Pettigrew breathed. “How mangnifique !”

Holly heard the woman’s odd accent. Was she French? “Help…”

“ Oui , that is what we are doing,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “Now, you must eat something. You are nothing but skin and bones!”

Holly shook her head in protest, but her stomach picked that moment to growl.

“Mrs. Fraser, some help please,” Mrs. Pettigrew snapped.

Another woman entered the room. She was middle aged and wore a sour expression. “Ah, she’s awake. Good. That soup downstairs needs to get eaten.”

“Serve it for dinner if you need to, Mrs. Fraser,” Mrs. Pettigrew advised. “Now help me get her up so she can eat.”

Holly moaned when they sat her up and propped her against some pillows. She was weak as a kitten and though hungry, didn’t think she had the strength to eat.

The woman called Mrs. Fraser disappeared as Mrs. Pettigrew pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat. “Now, while we are waiting for your dinner, you can tell me a few things about yourself. Like, where do you live?”

Holly swallowed. It hurt. “I’m not…from anywhere. I… ran away…”

“What’s this?” Mrs. Pettigrew cut in. “Running away?”

Holly nodded. “From my… brother…”

“Why would you do such a thing, ma petite ?”

Holly opened her eyes, not caring if the agony she was feeling showed on her face. “He tried to sell me.” She caught the woman’s horrified look right before her eyes drifted shut. Even talking was an effort.

“I see,” Mrs. Pettigrew breathed. “Sell you?”

“What?” came a man’s voice.

Mrs. Pettigrew turned toward the door. “Mr. Bradshaw, what are you doing here?”

Holly didn’t have the strength to look at the newcomer. In fact, it was all she could do to not fall asleep. But they said they were bringing food, and who knew when she’d get another meal?

“I came to check on the patient. And I brought these.”

“How beautiful!” Mrs. Pettigrew gushed. “What lovely flowers. Put them by the bed.”

Holly felt the woman pat her hand, but her eyelids were too heavy to lift.

“There, there, ma petite . Rest until your food comes, then I will feed you.”

Holly didn’t respond, she was too tired.

“How is she?” a man asked.

“I’m afraid I do not know, but at least we have a name. Holly Turtledove.”

“Turtledove,” the man repeated in a soft voice. “I don’t know any Turtledoves myself.”

“No, and why would you know one related to her? She is not from this part of the city. You and I both know that.”

Holly tried to open her eyes again, but it wasn’t going to happen. So, they must have found her in the carriage. Was it the owner of the carriage that sat at her bedside?

“What did the doctor say?” the man asked.

“She needs bed rest. She is still feverish, but at least the poor little thing has awakened. We’ll get some food into her and let her rest. Thank you for coming by and inquiring after her welfare, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“You’re most welcome, Mrs. Pettigrew. You’ll keep me informed?”

“Of course.”

“And let me know if I can help in any way.”

There was a pause, then Mrs. Pettigrew said. “Such concern, Mr. Bradshaw. That seems out of character for you.”

Another pause, and Holly briefly wondered if her words were meant as a slight.

“I am…trying to be better, Mrs. Pettigrew. Keep better company, that is.”

“Bravo for you then, young man. Now if you’ll excuse us? Mrs. Fraser, be so kind as to put the tray just there, yes, that’s it…”

Holly heard a tray being placed on the bed. She had to open her eyes. How else was she going to eat? Holly managed to turn her head left, then right, but it took so much effort.

“Now, ma petite , open your mouth,” Mrs. Pettigrew ordered.

Holly did, by letting her jaw naturally drop. A warm spoon touched her lower lip, and she clamped her lips around it, the hot broth spilling into her mouth. It was heavenly. She swallowed the soup then opened her mouth again.

Mrs. Pettigrew spoon-fed her slowly, and the next time Holly opened her eyes, she was on her back, snuggled under the luxurious comforter and staring up at the lace canopy overhead. The room was filled with daylight, and she wondered what time it was.

“Oh, glory be!” came the Irish accent. “Yer awake. How do ye feel?”

Holly looked to her right, saw a red-headed maid standing over her with a smile, and gave her a weak smile in return. “I… I’m not sure.” She swallowed. Her throat was dry, and still hurt, but not as bad as the last time she woke up. “Water…”

“Of course, miss!” The maid hurried to the other side of the bed where a pitcher of water sat atop a dresser. She poured Holly a glass and set it on the nightstand. “Now, let me help you sit up.”

Holly tried to do it herself but couldn’t. “It’s no good…”

“Nonsense, ye’ll be fine. Here, I’m strong enough to lift ye.” The maid sat on the bed and pulled Holly up to a sitting position. That done she reached behind her for the glass of water and held it to her lips. “There now, Miss Turtledove. Drink up. That’s it…”

Holly spilled some water down her front but didn’t care. She drank what she could before her eyes closed, and she sensed she wouldn’t be able to open them again. What had happened to her? “Sick…”

“Oh aye, that ye are.” The maid helped her lay back down and tucked the covers around her. “There now, that’s better. Are ye hungry?”

Holly shook her head. She just wanted to sleep.

“Well, the next time ye wake up, we’ll get some food in you. Mrs. Fraser is making ye something special. Oh, and ye had a visitor earlier. He brought ye flowers.”

“He?”

“Aye, Mr. Bradshaw. He’s the one that carried ye from the carriage house here.”

Holly wanted to open her eyes but doggone if it wasn’t happening. But then, didn’t she already figure she wouldn’t be able to?

“There now, poppet, rest,” the maid soothed. “I’ll be right here if ye need me.”

What? Right there? Was the maid watching over her? But why? Holly didn’t know these people. They were under no obligation to care for her. They could have just as easily booted her out of that carriage and sent her on her way.

Oh, except she was too sick to leave.

“Where am I?”

“The Pettigrew mansion, miss. Yer the guest of Mrs. Adelia Pettigrew. It’s a good thing we found ye when we did, or ye might have…” she stopped and cleared her throat. “Well, yer safe now, and that’s what counts. Ye just get better. I’m Abigail by the way, and I’ll be helping take care of ye.”

Holly nodded and let herself relax into the feathery soft mattress and let sleep take her. When she woke up again, the room was dimly lit, and someone new was in the room with her. “Hello,” she said, voice weak.

“Miss Turtledove,” a young woman with dark hair and eyes said. “I’m so happy to see you’re awake. You must be hungry. I’ll ring for a tray to be brought up.”

The woman left the chair by the bed and went to a bell pull near the door. She was well dressed, with not a hair out of place. Holly watched her turn and smile at her. “I’m Chastity Eastwick. You gave us quite a scare yesterday.”

Holly didn’t say anything. She was still so tired. She offered the woman a single nod instead.

“You poor thing,” Miss Eastwick said. “The doctor was here earlier. Your fever has gone down, so that’s a good thing.”

“Fever…”

“Oh yes, yesterday you were burning up with it.”

Holly forced her eyes to open. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother at all.” She returned to the chair by the bed. “We’re just glad we found you when we did.”

Holly looked at her. She was the second person to say that. “I’m sorry I broke into your carriage.”

“Nonsense, you were cold and sought shelter.” She put a hand over one of Holly’s. “Mrs. Pettigrew is a very generous woman. So don’t fret over being in her care. The last thing you need is to worry yourself silly when you’re already so ill.”

Holly looked at her as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Thank you.”

Miss Eastwick gave her a warm smile. “You’re very welcome. Now let me see what’s keeping Mrs. Fraser. I believe she’s prepared something a little more substantial than chicken broth.”

Holly’s eyes closed just after the young woman disappeared out the door. Thank the Lord for the blessing that was Mrs. Pettigrew.