Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
E wart paced his room, his mind filling with new details for the carnival ball. Each time he thought he had everything, a new idea would strike, and he had to write it down. Several hours had passed since he’d retired to his room. At this rate, he’d never get any sleep. What he needed was something dull and boring to read.
He looked at the small stack of books he’d placed on top of his dresser. He hadn’t had time to arrange them yet on the small bookshelf near the door. “I suppose I could always go down to the library and find something. I’m sure Mrs. Pettigrew won’t mind.”
He put on his robe and slippers and left his room. He went down the hall to the servant staircase that emerged into the kitchen, and from there made his way to the library. He stopped at the door and saw a light flickering underneath. Was Mrs. Pettigrew inside? Did he dare disturb her? Or perhaps it was Mr. Tugs? Well, there was only one way to find out.
Ewart knocked softly and, as quietly as possible, opened the door. He didn’t want to startle whoever was inside. When he saw who it was, he smiled. Abigail sat in a large leather wing chair. She was in her nightdress and robe, her long red hair in a single braid that spilled over one shoulder. She sat cross-legged, her nose in a large book, and turned a page, oblivious to his presence. Several candles lit the room, including the one near the door.
Ewart had to admit, she was a sight to behold. The light of several candles on the nearby desk made her hair shimmer and exposed the look of deep concentration on her face. He thought about backing out of the room quietly so as not to disturb her, but he couldn’t quite get his feet to move. Worse, a soft sigh escaped him at the sight of her.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise, and she gasped. “Mr. Bailey! What are ye doing here?”
He held up both hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Miss O’Connell. I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d come here to find something to read.”
She closed her book with a soft thud. “Did ye now? Wouldn’t reading keep ye up? And didn’t ye buy some books the other day?”
“I did indeed, but they’re adventure stories, and let’s face it, I’d never get any sleep if I started one of those. I came down here to find something less exciting.”
“Ye mean ye need something dull?”
“Exactly.” He lowered his hands and approached her chair. “You seemed engrossed. What are you reading?” His eyes flicked to her hands. Was she trying to hide the title?
“ Homer’s Odyssey .”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Really,” she said flatly. “Is it so hard to believe that a woman would be reading such a thing?”
He fought the urge to take a step back. Had he offended her? “Not at all.”
“Hmm.” She arched an eyebrow at him and looked around the library. “Well, there’s plenty of books in here to choose from, but I couldn’t tell ye where all the dull and boring ones are. I’m afraid ye’ll have to search them out.”
“I can do that.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and looked around.
“Why can’t ye sleep?” she asked, drawing his attention.
He put a finger near his head and spun it in a circle. “I’ve got too many ideas in my mind. If I read something boring, my mind will slow down enough for me to get to sleep.” He noticed another book in her lap and smiled. “What else were you reading?”
She glanced at the smaller book. “Whitman,” she said with a blush. “Though I’m not sure I understand half of it. I think the man was out of his head.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. I think if you understand half of it, you’re doing well—most people don’t understand that much.”
“Really?” she drawled. “And what about yerself? Have ye read him?”
“Oh yes. And not to boast, but I understand all of him. For the most part.”
“Ye are boasting, ye know,” she said, arching her eyebrow again.
He chuckled and went to the nearest bookshelf, realized it was too dark to read the spines, and returned to her chair. “May I borrow a candle?”
“Help yerself.”
He took one of the candles from the nearby desk and crossed the room to the bookshelf.
“I find history puts me to sleep,” she said.
“Is that why you were reading Homer’s Odyssey ?”
“No, I stumbled upon it and remembered I liked it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Miss O’Connell, you’re full of surprises. Perhaps I’ll read some European history.”
“Why not American, since you’re here in this country?” she asked.
“On account I might find it too exciting, then I’ll never get any sleep.” He pulled a book off the shelf. “Here’s a likely candidate: Russian history. Now who do you suppose was interested in this? Mr. or Mrs. Pettigrew?”
“Probably Xavier. He had a wide range of interests. After he struck it rich and built this house, his life was made up of his wife and his hobbies.”
“I see,” Ewart said. “That explains the size of this library.”
“Aye, it does. Ye’ll find a vast array of subjects in here.” She left the chair, crossed the room to him, and tucked one of the books onto a nearby shelf. Then she went to put the other one back in its place.
“Are you going to read anything else?” Ewart asked.
“Oh, aye. I’m not sleepy enough.” She went to another shelf and began to look at the spines, squinting her eyes.
Ewart joined her and held the candle so she could see them better. “I thank ye,” she said in a soft voice. She picked a book and returned to her chair.
Ewart did the same, joining her and taking the other seat. “I wonder what it was like for Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew to sit here in the evenings and read by the fire.”
“Pleasant, I’m sure,” she said, glancing at the fireplace. “It’s too bad we don’t have one.”
“That it is,” he agreed and opened the book on Russian history. They sat in companionable silence for a time, and he caught her glancing at him now and then. He hoped he wasn’t encroaching on her solitude.
Ewart shifted in the chair, trying to get closer to the candlelight.
Abigail looked up from her book. “I used to always read by candlelight back home. Ye can light a lamp, ye know.”
“Ah, but then that would take away from the ambience of the room, don’t you think?”
“Ambience? Ye mean it being dark enough in here to give ye eye strain?”
“It doesn’t you?”
“As I said, I’m used to it. I’m not so sure about you , though.”
He shoved his spectacles up his nose and smiled. “I used to, when I was younger. In fact, I had a hidden stash of candles in my room.”
She laughed. “Now why does that not surprise me?”
Ewart’s admiration for her surged. She was a curious thing, this Irish maid, and he found he wanted to get to know her better. “I’m glad you like reading, Miss O’Connell. One learns through books that the world is bigger than it seems.”
“Oh, aye, I couldn’t agree more.” She licked her lower lip, and he swore she was blushing again.
His heart sped up, pounding in his chest harder than normal. He recognized the signs of attraction and quickly batted them down. He didn’t know what Mrs. Pettigrew thought of employees getting involved with each other. Besides, his mother would throw a fit if she knew he fancied a lowly maid.
Before he could think on it further, the door to the library opened, and Mr. Tugs stepped inside. His bushy eyebrows shot up.
“What are the two of you doing in here? It’s a little late for reading, isn’t it?”
“We might ask ye the same thing,” Abigail said with a smile.
He rolled his eyes. “Well, if you must know, I couldn’t sleep. There’s so much to do, and every time I make a list, I think of something else. And then I forget where I put my list, so I have to make a new list and…”
Abigail giggled. “Best leave the list-making to Mr. Bailey. He excels at them. So much so that he can’t sleep either.”
“It’s true,” Ewart said. “So here I am, reading about Russian history to calm my mind.” He held up his book to show Mr. Tugs.
The elderly butler shook his head. “This carnival ball the two of you came up with will be the death of me. But Mrs. Pettigrew loves the idea, and so we shall all forge ahead. You’ll show me your list in the morning, Mr. Bailey.”
“Of course, Mr. Tugs,” Ewart said. “Perhaps I should take this book to my room.”
Abigail glanced down at her clothes, her cheeks going red again, and quickly left her chair. “Me too. Ye’ll not mention to Mrs. Pettigrew that the three of us were in here so late, will you, Tugs?”
He eyed them. “So long as all you were doing is reading.”
Abigail gasped. “Mr. Tugs! Of course we were just reading. Mr. Bailey happened upon me and came to the library for the same reason you were here.” She brushed at her robe and placed her book on the desk. “I’ll be going now.”
“Aren’t you going to take your book?” Ewart asked.
“No, I’ll sleep fine now. Thank you very much.” She clapped her hands in front of her and marched to the door. “Good night, Mr. Tugs. Mr. Bailey.” Head held high; she disappeared into the hall.
Mr. Tugs shook his head. “That poor girl is going to work herself to the bone with all this. I hope I’m able to find a couple of maids in the next few days.”
“Can I help in any way?” Ewart asked.
“Not that I know of. Besides, after Mrs. Pettigrew told me all your ideas for her carnival ball, you’re going to have your hands mighty full, young man.”
Ewart nodded. “Indeed, I will. But with Abigail’s help, I’m sure I can get everything done in time.”
“You’ll need more than her help. If you can, I would ask Miss Eastwick, Miss Winslow, and Miss Turtledove for some help. In fact, you might have them see if their fiancés would lend a hand.”
Ewart’s face fell. “Have I taken on too much, Mr. Tugs?”
The old man’s head bobbed from right to left. “Perhaps. I only say this because I know what it takes to put on a carnival.”
“This isn’t quite the same, though,” Ewart said. “But I would like it to be close. Do you know anyone in town who could procure us a carousel?”
Mr. Tugs’ eyebrow shot up. “Indeed, I do, young man.” He scratched one side of his face as he thought. “In fact, there are several old associates I can get in touch with. But enough of this. I shall get my book, and the both of us should retire.”
Ewart watched him go to the desk, take one of the candles, then move to a bookshelf. Mr. Tugs began to examine the spines.
“Good night, Mr. Tugs,” Ewart told him. “I’ll show you my list in the morning, and you can show me yours. I’m sure between the two of us, we can get this project underway.”
Mr. Tugs turned enough to peer at him over the book in his hand. “I look forward to it, Mr. Bailey. Good night.”
Ewart held the history book close and left the room. He was already feeling more relaxed, but didn’t think it was because of Russian history. It had more to do with a pretty Irish maid.