Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

W hen Miss Eastwick returned, it was with the cook, Mrs. Fraser. “Well, “the cook drawled. “It’s a fine thing to see you sitting up with open eyes.”

“Come now Mrs. Fraser,” Miss Eastwick said. “You make the poor girl sound like she was completely incoherent. Or unconscious.”

“Or at death’s door?” Mrs. Fraser tacked on. “The poor thing was, as far as I’m concerned. If Mr. Prosser hadn’t discovered her when he did…”

Miss Eastwick held up a hand to silence her. “That’s quite enough, Mrs. Fraser. We don’t want to scare the poor young lady.”

Holly blinked a few times in confusion. She knew she was sick, but had she been that bad off? “Am I going to get well, or die?” she asked in a weak voice. She tried to clear her throat, but it hurt too much.

“There, there, dear,” Mrs. Fraser soothed. As much as one could considering her gruff looks. “I’ve made a nice beef stew. I do hope you can keep it down. You’re nothing but skin and bones.” She nodded at the tray on the bed. “And there’s some fresh bread too. Now I’ll fetch the tea.” She hurried from the room with a sweep of her skirt.

“You’ll have to excuse, Mrs. Fraser,” Miss Eastwick said. “She tends to look at the worst possible outcome in a situation.”

Holly gulped. “Did I almost die?”

Miss Eastwick looked at the floor. “You were in a bad way. It’s a good thing we found you.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

Miss Eastwick sat on the bed, picked up the tray, and placed it on Holly’s lap. “You mustn’t say such things. We found you, now we’re going to take care of you.”

Holly bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. These people were being so kind! How was she going to repay them? And, oh dear, what of Randall? What was she going to do about him? What if he found her?

She coughed and looked at the hearty stew Mrs. Fraser brought. “This looks delicious, but I’m not sure how much I can get down.”

“Oh goodness, is your stomach upset?”

“No, it’s just that…” Should she tell her how long it had been since she’d eaten? She had the broth earlier, of course, but…

“Here, take this and dig in,” Miss Eastwick ordered and handed her the spoon.

Holly took it and tried a small bite. The stew was delicious! The best she ever had. She took a few more bites and closed her eyes in bliss. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Miss Eastwick smiled. “You eat as much of that as you can and have some hot tea.”

No sooner than she said it, Mrs. Fraser re-entered the room, carrying another tray. This one laden with a teapot, cups, saucers, and a plate of cookies.

Miss Eastwick took one look at the cookies and frowned. “Mrs. Fraser, is that the sort of food that’s good for a patient?”

Mrs. Fraser’s hands went to her hips. “May I remind you that I’ve taken care of Mrs. Pettigrew for years. Mr. Pettigrew as well. Not to mention everyone else in this household, a few cookies isn’t going to harm the girl.”

Holly smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Fraser.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Eat what you can and have some tea while it’s still hot. I need to check on a few things. Oh, and Tugs was just letting that Mr. Bradshaw in while I was coming up the stairs. He’s in the drawing room.” She looked at Holly. “My guess is he’s here to see our patient.” She left the bedroom.

Miss Eastwick poured Holly a cup of tea. “Cream and sugar?”

“A little sugar, please.” Holly swallowed hard, her throat still hurting. She took the cup of tea gratefully and enjoyed a sip.

“I’m sure that feels good on your throat. Can you manage while I go downstairs and see what Mr. Bradshaw wants?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” So long as she didn’t spill hot tea all over herself or knock the bowl off the tray. She tended to be clumsy at times and didn’t want to spill anything on the expensive looking comforter.

“I’ll only be a moment.” Miss Eastwick slipped from the room and disappeared.

Holly continued to eat, and it wasn’t long before she was full. She wanted to eat more, her fear of going without racing to the forefront of her mind. The last few days and that dingy hotel room over the saloon were horrible and only made worse by Randall’s ill intent. Sell her? How could he think such a thing? The thought made her heart ache, and she had to bat the emotions down when Miss Eastwick returned with a handsome gentleman in tow.

“Miss Turtledove, may I present Mr. Bradshaw? He helped us the day we found you in the carriage.”

Holly’s jaw dropped. It was most unladylike, no matter what her station. And his was obviously way above hers. He wore a dark brown suit, crisp white shirt, a gold waistcoat, and an expensive looking dark brown coat and green scarf. He obviously wasn’t staying long, or the butler would have taken his coat, hat and gloves. She noticed he held his hat and gloves in one hand as he looked at her and smiled.

“Miss Turtledove, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you and to see you have improved. Though I understand you’re still quite unwell.”

She nodded and thought of how awful she must look! Why did Miss Eastwick have to bring him up?

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “But I had to see for myself that you were doing better. I’m so glad you are. “

Holly stared at him like an idiot, words failing her. Why would someone of his station be concerned about the likes of her?

It took Holly a moment to get her mouth to work. “Thank you, kind, sir. Thank you for helping.”

He took a step toward the bed, his eyes full of sympathy. “It was my pleasure. Now I’ll leave you to your rest. I just wanted to check on you.” He gave her a slight bow, smiled, then left the room.

Holly stared after him, and realized her mouth was hanging open again. It was bad enough she dredged herself up to this part of the city from the rat hole of Denver, but to be rescued by some of Denver’s high society, was almost more than she could bear. Would they demand payment? What were they going to do with her when she was better? They’d boot her out into the street no doubt. That meant she’d better come up with a plan and fast. Randall would be looking for her, and who knew how much help he’d have?

“Oh, dear, “Miss Eastwick said. “You’re growing pale. Perhaps you’d better lie down.”

Holly realized how exhausted she was. “I think you’re right. Who was that again?”

“Joseph Bradshaw. He’s a neighbor and lives down the street a few houses. When we sent for one of the other neighbors to come help, Joseph came with him. He was the one that carried you from the carriage house here.”

Holly’s face screwed up in confusion. It seemed she’d heard that before.

Her cheeks heated with the realization that the terribly handsome Mr. Bradshaw had carted her feverish body across the property, into the house, up the stairs, and put her in this very bed!

Her heart melted at the thought.

“Oh, and now you’re getting flushed!” Miss Eastwick said in alarm. She put the back of her hand against Holly’s forehead. “You’re warm, but not as feverish as you were yesterday, thank heaven. Still, you’d better lie back and rest. The doctor will be by soon.”

Holly nodded as Miss Eastwick removed the tray from the bed and set it on a small table by the window. “Thank you again for all your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it. Be glad Mrs. Pettigrew is such a generous woman. She wasn’t about to send you on your way. Not that you could’ve walked out the door to begin with.” Miss Eastwick poured more tea into Holly‘s cup that now sat on the nightstand, and smiled at her. “There, try to have a few more sips, then sleep until the doctor comes.”

Holly tried to pull the comforter up to her chin but couldn’t quite manage it. She was still weak as a kitten.

“Let me help you,” Miss Eastwick said gently.

“Do you live here?” Holly asked, hardly recognizing her own voice.

“I’m Mrs. Pettigrew’s assistant. Well, I was a maid but acted more like an assistant. I’m getting married so she’ll be looking for another one.” Miss Eastwick tucked her in, smiled, then left the room.

Holly lay there, staring at the lace canopy above her. The room was cheery and inviting. She’d never been in such a fancy place. Not even when she and her parents had dinner one night with the mayor of their little hometown back in Oklahoma.

But Mrs. Pettigrew’s mansion was a far cry from Tumbleweed, Oklahoma. She vaguely recalled what Mrs. Pettigrew’s home looked like from the outside. She knew it was big and looming and had a good-sized carriage house with two carriages! One enclosed, and one open as she recalled. The woman was rich, and if her guess was right, a widow? Didn’t Mrs. Fraser mention she’d taken care of both Mrs. Pettigrew and her husband? But no one made mention of him now, so he must be deceased.

Seems she almost joined him. Holly shivered at the thought and tried to burrow further under the covers. Her mind drifted to Mr. Bradshaw, and the fact he carried her all the way up to this very room. She was dirty, disheveled, and had been running and stumbling through the streets of Denver until she could run no more. What must he think of her?

Her cheeks heated at the thought, and she wished he’d never seen her at all. A man like him wouldn’t even consider someone like her. But it was nice to have a memory of a chivalrous act, and be the recipient of it. But a memory was all it could ever be. Men like Mr. Bradshaw did not entertain the idea of being around one such as her unless they absolutely had to. That told her she really had been close to death. Otherwise, he’d have never soiled his hands by pulling her from that carriage and carrying her up to this room.