Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
A bigail paused just outside the drawing room entrance. She squared her shoulders, bracing herself for the icy tension Rebecca Harrington brought into the room.How dare she come uninvited!And why hadn’t Mrs. Pettigrew thrown her out? But Abigail knew why. Rebecca hadn’t come to bask in Adelia Pettigrew’s company. No, the woman wantedsomething . Mrs. Fraser agreed when Abigail told her who was at the door.
Taking a deep breath, Abigail stepped into the drawing room.
“I’m going to host a ball,” Mrs. Pettigrew was saying. “A spring ball, which I’ll hold in the garden, weather permitting. We must celebrate Hattie, Chastity, and Holly’s engagements.”
“An engagement party,” Rebecca said with a hint of enthusiasm. “How wonderful.” She cast a glance at Mr. Bailey. “I’d be glad to help.”
“Really?” Mrs. Pettigrew arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”
“I’m tired from the long journey home, but I am by no meanslessexcited. I’d love to help.”
Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a smile that Abigail and the rest of the staff knew all too well. She waited, looking at Rebecca expectantly. Everyone else in the room did the same, including Mr. Bailey, who casually stifled a yawn.
“Very well,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, surprising everyone, including Rebecca.
Her eyes lit up as she fixated on Mr. Bailey. “I’m sure I can be of assistance toyour…” her gaze swept over him. “… assistant.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. No one would notice because they were all too busy gaping at Rebecca and Mr. Bailey at this point.
“Abigail,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, drawing her attention.
“Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew?”
“You and Mr. Bailey will work together to create a romantic, fun atmosphere, pleasing to the eye and brimming with all the little things that represent love.”
Abigail’s eyes widened to saucers. “Ye might want to write that down, ma’am. Including exactly whatyou think represents love.”
“Only because you’ve obviously never experienced it,” Rebecca quipped with a smirk.
“There are different kinds of love, Miss Harrington,” Mr. Bailey pointed out. “Romantic love is only one among them. Abigail and I are both well-read enough to know what the others are.”
“You’ll be fine,” Mrs. Pettigrew assured them. “The two of you will be in charge of decorating, among a few other things. This, of course, means you’ll be spending a lot of time together.” She turned to Abigail. “I’m sure that’s all right with you?”
Abigail’s heart leapt in an unsettling mix of joy and dread. Rebecca’s stare bore into her, which didn’t help thedread part. It meant that every suggestion Abigail made, every attempt to execute a task, Rebecca would thwart, with snide remarks and constant belittling. Her behavior was typical of Denver’s elite.One would think she’d be used to it by now.
When Xavier Pettigrew had been alive and Abigail had first started working for him, he and Mrs. Pettigrew had hosted numerous balls and parties for Denver’s high society. Half the guests had been decent and kind. The other half had been like Rebecca.
The expression she wore now was like dark clouds gathering before a storm. No amount of sunshine had a chance at breaking through.
Rebecca sat with perfect posture, her gaze raking over Abigail, probably looking for flaws. Abigail held her ground, forcing her hands not to twist the apron she wore.
Any moment now…
“I haveallthe time in the world, Mrs. Pettigrew,” Rebecca assured, her tone sickeningly sweet. “I’m a much better choice to helpyourMr. Bailey with the decorations. I could easily put myself at his disposal.”
Abigail thought she heard Chastity mumble something aboutbeing disposed ofbut wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
“Besides,” Rebecca continued, her tone sugary enough to make Abigail’s teeth ache, “I’ve handled this sort of thing before.”
Mrs. Pettigrew dismissed Rebecca’s statement with a wave. “No doubt you have. But one has to admit that fresh perspectives are often found in those whohaven’tyet experienced such planning.” She turned to Abigail and gave her a warm, knowing look. “I’m counting on you and Mr. Bailey to make this an affair to remember.”
Abigail fought the urge to gulp and nodded instead.
Mrs. Pettigrew might as well have handed her a hot coal.
“Of course, ma’am,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”
Rebecca gave Abigail a thin smile. “We’ll see how you do. But remember, Mr. Bailey, I’m happy to help.” She sat back in her chair and eyed Abigail with a haughty gaze.
Abigail tried to ignore it and instead looked at Mr. Bailey. He sat with a notebook in his lap and a pen in his hand, his teacup and saucer resting on the low table beside him. Without thinking, she approached. “Would ye like more tea, Mr. Bailey?”
“Thank you, no, Abigail. But when I’m done here, where can I find you?”
“I’ll either be upstairs with the children or with Mrs. Fraser.”
“Ewart,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, “we’d better hire that extra help we spoke of earlier.”
He jotted something in his notebook. “You’re right.”
“Extra help?” Rebecca said. “Didn’t I just offer my help?”
Mrs. Pettigrew smiled. “You did, my dear. And if you’d like to help in the kitchen or with the laundry, I wouldlove your help.”
Rebecca gasped. “Not that kind of help!”
Mrs. Pettigrew waved a hand in the air. “Well, youoffered…”
Rebecca frowned. “I meant with the decorations and the preparation for the ball, not housework!”
“We’re in need of a few maids and extra hands to help with the ballanda few other things,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “So naturally, I thought…”
“But I offered to help withthe ball!” Rebecca reiterated, sounding like a spoiled child. She must have heard the tone in her own voice, for she quickly straightened and added, “That is, I would love to offer my assistance.” She batted her eyelashes at Mrs. Pettigrew.
Abigail thought she might be sick at the display.Land sakes, does the woman have no shame?It was obvious she wanted an excuse to spend time with Mr. Bailey.
Abigail gathered cups and saucers as Mrs. Pettigrew and Mrs. Simpson continued discussing wedding plans. She escaped to the kitchen with her load and set everything on the counter near the sink.
“Well?” Mrs. Fraser asked as she wiped her hands. “What’s that harpy saying upstairs?”
Abigail dabbed at her brow with the edge of her apron. “Oh, she’s a sly one. She found out Mr. Bailey is the son of a baron and can’t wait to sink her claws into him, even if he is working as Mrs. Pettigrew’s assistant.”
Mrs. Fraser huffed. “That sort of work doesn’t mean he won’t inherit a baronetcy from his father. That harpy upstairs knowsthat, the poor lad.”
Abigail shuddered. She wouldn’t wish the likes of Rebecca Harrington on her worst enemy. That is, if she had any enemies.Come to think of it, Rebecca’s the only one . She smiled at the absurdity of it and proceeded to wash the cups and saucers.
When she finished, she completed a few more chores before returning upstairs to see if Mrs. Simpson and Rebecca had left yet.
Thank heaven, they had.
She found Mr. Bailey at the desk in the drawing room. He turned when he heard her approach and smiled. “Abigail, I trust you haven’t reconsidered helping and made plans to flee the city?”
She laughed, covering her mouth with both hands. “Not just yet, Mr. Bailey,” she said, lowering them. “But I admit I’m tempted. I even brought my bag out from under my bed.”
He chuckled as he scribbled something down. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re still with us. I’m making a list of everything I think we’ll need. Adelia already told me to spare no expense. I’m sure you know where we can get all these things.” He stopped writing and handed her the notebook.
She quickly perused the list, then made her way to the nearest chair and sat down, a smile on her face. “Are yesureye don’t read romance, Mr. Bailey?”
“Positive,” he said with a grin. “But Idoread a lot of poetry.”
Abigail looked at the notes again. The man had even made a few sketches. “I thought we could string paper lanterns in the garden,” he said. “If it’s not too windy, that is. One never knows what sort of weather we’ll have in spring.”
“True, which is why I thought the party could be moved indoors, if need be,” he said.
She slowly nodded as she took in the sketches of the patio and part of the garden, decorated with lanterns and floral arrangements. He also had a list of ideas for the dining room, drawing room, and even the grand foyer. “Ye seem to have thought of everything, Mr. Bailey.”
“I did try.”
Abigail smiled at him, then gestured at several sketches spread across the desk. “What are those?”
“Oh, nothing much,” he said, gathering them up, his eyes bright. “Just some ideas for games centered around romance.”
She eyed the sketch on top of the pile. “A kissing booth ?” she said, aghast. “Goodness!”
He laughed. “What’s the matter? Perhaps Miss Harrington will want to volunteer.”
“Ha!No one will want to kiss the likes of her. But mark my words, she’d be plenty eager to kisshalf the men in this neighborhood.”
“I have no doubt,” he said with a laugh.
Scooting his chair closer to hers, he held up the sketches and began explaining his ideas for a carnival-like atmosphere. “Of course, I haven’t told Adelia yet. I didn’t want to get too far into the planning without her approval. What do you think?”
Abigail wasn’t used to people asking her opinion, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “I think these are all fine ideas, Mr. Bailey, but we’d best present them to Mrs. Pettigrew, as ye say.”
He gave her a tender smile, and a tingle went up her spine. “Then let’s go find our employer and present her with our ideas.” He stood and offered her a hand.
Another tingle went up her spine as she took it, and together they went in search of Mrs. Pettigrew.