Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
T he next morning, Abigail was just coming down the grand staircase when the doorbell rang. As there was no sight of Mr. Tugs or anyone else, she answered it.
She wished she hadn’t.
Rebecca Harrington stood on the threshold and narrowed her eyes at her. “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to let me in?” she huffed.
Abigail opened the door wide. “Won’t ye come in, Miss Harrington?”
Rebecca strode into the house like she lived there and went straight to the drawing room.
Abigail shut the door and followed. “I’m afraid Mrs. Pettigrew isn’t in the house. At least, I don’t think so.”
Rebecca spun on her, her skirt swishing as she did. “You stupid girl. You mean you don’t know where your employer is at all times?”
Heat crept into Abigail’s cheeks. She wasn’t embarrassed by the remark. She oftendidknow where Mrs. Pettigrew was. No, this was anger. How dare this woman speak to her like that? “She is on the grounds somewhere, Miss Harrington.”
“Where exactly?”
“I don’t know. But a peek out the window will tell me. Now, if ye don’t mind waiting, I’ll fetch her for ye.”
“You’ll fetch me some tea first, girl. And be quick about it.” She went to the sofa and sat. She eyed Abigail as she slowly removed her gloves. They were a light blue color, made of the finest leather, and matched her outfit and hat perfectly. “Well? What are you waiting for?” Rebecca snapped.
Abigail tried not to roll her eyes as she headed downstairs to the kitchen.
When she returned with the tea, Rebecca looked up from a list that had been left on the low table beside the sofa. “I see you have quite the endeavor planned. Or should I say Mrs. Pettigrew does. You probably haven’t got a brain in your head. Now serve me.”
Abigail stiffened. “A lot of work goes into such a ball. There are tents to be gathered, extra workers to be hired…”
Rebecca sneered at her. “Did I say you could speak?”
Abigail poured tea into a cup and fought the urge to pour it into the harpy’s lap.
Rebecca looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the room. “I suppose Icould search for them, but I’m parched and wish to have some tea first. It’s cold outside today.”
Abigail followed her gaze to the front windows and nodded. “Aye, it is.”
Rebecca’s head snapped to her. “Once again, did I ask you to speak?”
Abigail tried not to sigh in exasperation. “As ye say, ma’am.”
“I do say,” Rebecca replied. “And I also say that I’m going to be helping with this carnival ball. I, for one, don’t mind getting my hands a little dirty if it’s for a good cause. Have you seen the guest list?”
Abigail straightened and realized she was still holding the teapot. That might not be a good if the woman really got her dander up. “No, I have not,” she said truthfully, even though she’ddelivered the list to the printers for the invitations.
“Well, I don’t suppose you would know such things,” Rebecca drawled, “you being in your position as a maid and all.”
Abigail forced herself to set the teapot down. “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”
Rebecca looked her up and down. “The seams of your dress aren’t very tidy, are they? Did you make it yourself?”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “I…why, no. Mrs. Pettigrew ordered it for me. Are you through?”
Rebecca laughed. “Insolent, aren’t you? If you weremymaid, I’d fire you right now.”
And I’d be happy if you did. Of course, she didn’t dare say it aloud. She liked her position too much. And if she did talk back to Rebecca, the woman was mean spirited enough to spread rumors all over the neighborhood. Not that Abigail couldn’t pick up another maid’s position somewhere—but she was sure the likes of Rebecca Harrington would do everything in her power to make sure she never got hired again.
She turned to leave.
“Did I say you could go?” Rebecca said behind her.
Abigail itched to throw something—anything. Just so long as she didn’t throw it at Miss Harrington, she might be fine. Too bad I’m not still holding the teapot, she thought grimly.
She slowly turned around to face her. “Do ye wish something else, ma’am?”
Rebecca looked into her teacup. “What can you tell me about the ball? What has been done so far?”
Abigail straightened and clasped her hands in front of her. “Those questions are best left to Mrs. Pettigrew.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked. “You can’t bethatstupid. Surely you hear things when you come into a room.”
Abigail arched an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to gossip, ma’am?”
Rebecca laughed. “I’m asking you for information. And if you were smart, you would give it to me. I merely want to know what’s been done so far, so I don’t have to bother Mrs. Pettigrew, you dolt of a girl.”
Abigail hoped Miss Harrington didn’t notice how her fists were clenching. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be tempted to strike the woman.
“Well?” Rebecca prompted.
“At this moment, Mr. Bailey and Mrs. Pettigrew…”
“Mr. Bailey?” Rebecca interrupted, her eyes lighting up.
Abigail did her best not to roll her eyes in impatience. “Aye. Mr. Bailey. They’re outside, trying to figure out where to put the different tents and booths.”
“Of course they are,” Rebecca said, then took a sip of tea.
Abigail turned away just enough to roll her eyes anyway.Good grief. How much longer was she going to have to endure this woman? “If that will be all, ma’am, I should be seeing to my other duties.” She made the mistake of turning around.
Rebecca smiled at her; a sly, sweet smile. “Are you attracted to him?”
Abigail blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”
“Mr. Bailey,” Rebecca purred. “Are you attracted to him? I saw the way you looked at him when you showed up at my house and ruined my tea party.”
Abigail’s jaw dropped. “I did no such thing, and ye know it.”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh, temper, temper. So you are attracted. Well, just so you know, a baron will have nothing to do with a servant. And though he’s not a baron yet, hewillbe. And where does that leave you?”
Abigail’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she gathered her wits. “I’ll be going now, Miss Harrington. If ye need anything further, Mr. Tugs will see to it.”
“Mr. Tugs?” Rebecca laughed. “That old turtle? He moves so slow that by the time I get what I want from him, I’ll have forgotten why I asked for it in the first place.”
Abigail stiffened. “I’ll tell him all the same.” She turned to leave, and thank the Almighty, Mr. Bailey was just stepping into the drawing room. “I’ll inform Mrs. Pettigrew she has a guest,” Abigail said as she brushed past him.
She didn’t get far. He caught her gently by the arm. “Abigail, what’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice.
Her eyes flicked to Rebecca. “I was just having a wee conversation with Miss Harrington.” She lifted his hand from her arm and couldn’t deny the tingle that shot up her spine at the contact. “I should tell Mrs. Pettigrew she has a guest.”
“Yes, you should,” he said—but still didn’t release her. Instead, he looked into her eyes, his face softening. “You’re upset. Did she do this?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Her heart melted at his words. He was concerned for her?
“Abigail,” he said gently. “What did she do?”
She swallowed hard and was about to tell him when Rebecca cut into their conversation. “Mr. Bailey, do come join me,” she called from the sofa.
He turned to her slowly, never releasing Abigail’s arm and muttered about needing to check on something for Mrs. Pettigrew, but Abigail didn’t want to play interpreter. Not when she was becoming addle-brained by a mere touch.
“Come join me, won’t you?” Rebecca cooed. “I have so many questions about the ball.”
“I’m sure you do,” he drawled. He gave Abigail’s arm one last, comforting squeeze, smiled at her, then nodded toward the grand hall. “Mrs. Pettigrew’s in the kitchen, speaking with Mrs. Fraser. I think you’re going to need more tea, cups and saucers. I can help you, if you’d like.”
“Helpher?” Rebecca called from the sofa. “Are you mad? That’s not your job!”
Mr. Bailey closed his eyes, and Abigail swore he was counting to ten. “Miss. Harrington,” he said as he turned around, finally releasing Abigail’s arm, “you must remember, I work for Mrs. Pettigrew. I amnota guest in this house.”
“Well, you should be,” she sniffed. “After all, you’re going to be a baron. Why lower yourself?”
“Because,” he replied, as Abigail made her escape, “it’s an adventure. And I like writing about adventures.”
Abigail smiled at his words as she headed down the hall to the kitchen. When she arrived, Mrs. Pettigrew was indeed speaking to Mrs. Fraser. “I think we’re going to need a broader menu than this,” Mrs. Pettigrew was saying as she looked over the list.
“But ma’am,” Mrs. Fraser protested, “I’ll need help, then. You’ll have to hire another cook.”
“That’s no problem, Mrs. Fraser, I assure you.” She looked up from the list and smiled at Abigail. “There you are, my dear. I presume Mr. Bailey is waiting for me in the drawing room. Could you bring up some tea?”
Abigail nodded. “Ye meanmoretea. Did Mrs. Fraser not tell ye?”
“Tell me what?”
“Rebecca Harrington is upstairs. Waiting for ye.”
“Oh… I see,” Mrs. Pettigrew said. “Well then, I’d best go rescue Mr. Bailey. Do bring more tea, Abigail. Thank you.” She left the kitchen and disappeared down the hall.
Abigail looked to Mrs. Fraser and shook her head. “That woman! Oh, she’s an awful, awful witch!”
“Tell me something I don’t know, dearie,” Mrs. Fraser said. “All right, I’ll get the kettle.”
Abigail sat at the worktable and put her face in her hands. “I should’ve dumped the teapot on her.Allof it.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t,” Mrs. Fraser called from the stove. “As tempting as it was. But I’d hate to see you have to find another job—and that’sif Mrs. Pettigrew even considered firing you, which I doubt.”
Abigail brought her hands down. “I couldn’t take the chance, Mrs. Fraser. I just couldn’t.”
“You’ll be fine, dear. Just take a moment and let the anger pass.”
Abigail took a deep breath and prayed it would.