Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

J oseph paced back and forth in his family’s parlor while he waited for the tea his father ordered.

“Did Mrs. Pettigrew tell you anything about the young lady?” Father asked.

“No, other than her name.” He stopped his pacing. “Really, Father. She’s quite ill and doesn’t have the strength to talk much.”

“But she will, and when she does, and Mrs. Pettigrew finds out more, I’m sure she’ll send the creature on her way. The very idea of keeping such a woman in her home. I’d have called the police!”

Joseph sat and sighed. “Father, she was close to death.”

“And who told you that?” He shook his head as their maid, Sarah, brought their tea. “Joseph, you don’t need to play the hero with such riffraff.”

He stilled and fought against a glare. “Where is your compassion?”

Father poured himself a cup of tea. “I’m just saying that Mrs. Pettigrew doesn’t need to feel obligated to take care of the girl. As soon as her fever breaks, she should send her on her way.”

Joseph poured his own cup. “She hasn’t any belongings.”

His father eyed him over the rim of his cup. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for the beggar?”

“Father!”

He rolled his eyes. “Forget about Mrs. Pettigrew’s unwanted houseguest, and let’s discuss my party. All the invitations have been sent, and I must see to the menu. I thought sure Mrs. Pettigrew would have a party, but as we’ve not received an invitation, my guess is, her little Christmas ball was all she could manage. So, that means our New Year’s Eve party won’t have any competition.”

Joseph forced a smile. His mind kept wandering to the poor young woman in Mrs. Pettigrew’s care. He wanted to know more about her, find out where she lived. Maybe once she was better, he could see that she got home safely. Great Scott, her family must be worried sick about her! Had Mrs. Pettigrew discovered where Miss Turtledove’s home was? Did she need someone to contact her family and tell them she was all right?

“Joseph!” Father snapped.

He jumped and almost spilled his tea. “What?”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said!” He set his cup and saucer down. “Can’t you keep your head out of the clouds for one minute?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d spoken to Rebecca since Mrs. Pettigrew’s Christmas ball?”

“No, I’ve not seen Rebecca or her parents.”

“Well, I suppose they’re avoiding folks considering the way Mrs. Pettigrew put them in their place at her ball. Personally, I don’t know what all the fuss was about.”

“Rebecca was being a witch,” Joseph pointed out. “She treated Miss Eastwick cruelly. Dalton is still upset about it.”

“I don’t know what he sees in the girl. She’s not one of us.” His father sipped more tea and didn’t look at him. It was his way of avoiding a retort on Joseph’s part. He should say something, but his mind kept gravitating back to Miss Turtledove. When he’d taken her in his arms and carried her from the carriage to the manse, something deep inside him came to life. Protective instincts? Compassion? Fear? A combination of all three? He only knew that the young lady was in a bad way and in need of rescuing. If transporting her to a guest room would take care of it, then that’s what he’d do and did. Part of him was more than a little satisfied that he’d done a good deed, and he wanted to do more. The question was, what? He’d already offered Mrs. Pettigrew his help, but it was up to her to take him up on his offer. In the meantime, all he could do was sit and wait.

He realized Father was prattling on about their party again and tried to pay attention but gave up when he recalled how Miss Turtledove didn’t look quite so pale when he visited her today. She was sitting up, staring at him with those lovely green eyes of hers. She was still dirty but at least was dressed in clean nightclothes. But what would become of her now?

“… should invite Rebecca for a carriage ride.”

Joseph cringed and looked at his sire. “What?”

Father sighed. “Rebecca. See that she gets out of the house. I’d hate to see the young woman be treated as a pariah. You and I both know she means well.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Rebecca? We are talking about Rebecca Harrington, right?”

“Of course,” Father huffed.

He sat back in his chair. “Rebecca’s actions are done for one person and one person only. Herself.”

“Nonsense, she’s a fine young lady. You’d do well to court her.”

Joseph almost choked on his tea. “Wh-what?!”

“Come now, Joey, you’re going to have to take a wife sometime.”

“It won’t be Rebecca Harrington,” he quipped and set down his cup.

“Then who? She’s one of the few young ladies of marriageable age this season.”

Joseph shook his head. He’d fancied Rebecca for a moment, but after her cruel and selfish treatment of Chastity Eastwick, he decided she wasn’t worth his trouble. She’d be nothing but a headache as a wife and would probably drive him round the bend.

Joseph saw what he wanted in a wife the night of Mrs. Pettigrew’s Christmas ball. Dalton Simpson opened his eyes that night, and Joseph saw the appeal of Miss Chastity Eastwick. She was kind, generous, looked out for others, and did what she could to protect Mrs. Pettigrew.

“I suggest you call on Rebecca…”

“Father,” he said, cutting him off. “Do not tell me what to do. I will court whom I wish.” He left his chair.

“Where are you going?” Father asked with a hint of alarm.

“I need a walk.” He went to the front hall where Capra, their butler, was fiddling with a vase of flowers on a high table. “My coat, hat, and gloves, Capra.”

“Right away sir.” Capra, who was seventy if he was a day, bowed and headed for a closet off the grand entrance of their modest mansion. It wasn’t as big as the Pettigrew mansion but impressive all the same. He had to get some air and clear his head. Father had a point, but he hated it when he tried to push his ideas on him.

Capra returned with his coat and things, and Joseph quickly donned them. Outside he reached the front gate, went through, and found himself headed for Mrs. Pettigrew’s house. He shouldn’t pay another visit; he’d already been there. But paying another call didn’t mean he had to see Miss Turtledove. He could speak to Mrs. Pettigrew and find out if she had any more information on the young lady. Perhaps he could offer to deliver a message to her family.

He rang the bell and waited for Tugs to answer. He knew it might take a while. Tugs moved like a turtle, but then, Capra wasn’t much better.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” Tugs said as his bushy eyebrows shot up. “Two visits in one day.”

Joseph ignored the remark. “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Pettigrew. Is she in?”

“Right this way, sir.” Tugs moved out of the way and let him in. “She’s in the drawing room.”

Joseph removed his coat and hat and handed them to Tugs. He took off his gloves as his eyes gravitated to the grand staircase. “Thank you.” He handed his gloves off to Tugs and headed for the drawing room. “No need to announce me.”

“Obviously, sir.” Tugs shuffled off as Joseph took one last look at him before giving his attention to Mrs. Pettigrew.

She stood by the fireplace, a sheaf of papers in her hands. “Why, Mr. Bradshaw. What brings you here?”

“You, actually. And of course, your guest. How is she?”

“Resting.”

“What did the doctor say? He’s been here, hasn’t he?”

“He has.” She put the papers on a small desk and motioned for him to sit. “You seem unusually interested in the young lady.”

“My intentions are pure, I assure you. It’s just, she was so ill, so helpless…”

“Yes, indeed she was. And still is. Have you come to offer help?”

He sat in a chair opposite her. “I have. Do you know where her family lives? Perhaps I could tell them where she is, if you haven’t sent word already?”

“I have not.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I will not.”

He started at her words. “I beg your pardon?”

Mrs. Pettigrew looked him in the eyes. “Miss Turtledove was almost the victim of a heinous crime. She escaped, wound up here and took refuge in my carriage.”

He stared at her as his jaw tightened. The thought of anyone trying to harm that poor defenseless woman rankled. “What happened?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but suffice to say, her circumstances are dire. Therefore, as I will soon be short one assistant, I shall see if Miss Turtledove can fill the position once she is on her feet.”

“But… you know nothing about her.”

“No, but I can find out what I want by simply asking her. So far, she’s been most grateful for my hospitality. However, there are those that may still wish to harm her. If she goes to work for me, she’ll need some sort of escort while running errands. Would you be interested in accompanying her on some of them if needed?”

Joseph’s eyebrows were still raised as he stared at her. “Who is trying to harm her?”

“A relative. Are you interested or not?”

He nodded without thinking. He had work obligations, but he could manage to accompany Miss Turtledove a few times a week. “I can help you when my schedule allows.”

“I understand. Let me know what it is, and I’ll make sure I send Miss Turtledove out when you’re available. Will you agree to that?” She wore a slight smile on her face as she waited for his answer.

He shouldn’t be doing this. It was silly really. Yet there was something about Miss Holly Turtledove that pulled at his heart strings. She was nothing but a guttersnipe compared to those in his world, yet… was it through any fault of her own? He had to know more. “I agree.”

Her smile bloomed. “Excellent. Why don’t you call on Miss Turtledove tomorrow? Perhaps you could read to her?”

He nodded. “I shall call on her in the morning.” He stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

Mrs. Pettigrew smiled in satisfaction. “Until tomorrow.”

Joseph gave her a slight bow and left the drawing room with the distinct feeling that Mrs. Pettigrew had just gotten away with something.