Mature Content: No.

Author: Arabella Mudd

With: James Vaughn, Worcester Pettigrew & Arabella's Chaperone
Location: Mr. Pettigrew's Lodgings above the dress shop
When: Sunday, 21st May 1876
Time of Day: 7pm

If Mr James Vaughn, late of England, had hoped that his invitation to a Sunday evening Soirée at Mr. Pettigrew's lodgings, along with the girl whose life he had saved the previous week, would be forgotten about in the hurly-burly of the ensuing week, he was to be disabused of the notion by the insistent rapping on his door a good half hour before the allotted time.

The girl, or perhaps young lady would be a better term, was togged up in her very best finery: to wit, a jet black dress, more fit for a funeral than a Sunday frolic, black bonnet, black shawl, a black clutch bag (empty) and, the only flash of colour, a lovely blue cameo broach that Arabella had found down the back of a dresser when cleaning out Mrs Devereu's room ready for Mr Fortner to move in. She had decided that Mrs Devereu, with whom she had never really got on, had left it specially for her, to say 'sorry' for telling her off so often in the past. 

"Come on Jeems!!" she shouted through the crack in the door. "We gotta be early cause Mr. Pettigrew said I need to take along a chaperone and she's meetin' me there and if I ain't there when she gets there then she's gonna need a chaperone!!" 

She put an eye to the crack in the door and then the keyhole.

"You even awake?!" she yelled. "Yooohooo, Jimmy?! JEEMS!!!" The last yell was loud enough to wake the dead.

Not that he would’ve admitted it there was a part of James that really hoped something, anything would come up to cancel the dinner at the old man’s home.  But as the rapping at his own door proved he was not to be so lucky.  Good manners had required that he be ready, even if not exactly willing.  Dressed in his second-best outfit, James had been sitting on the stool beside his bed in the loft of the little house he’d rented.
 
Hearing her voice James laid down the book he’d been reading, making his way to the ladder and climbing down with care, for the wood wasn’t exactly the smoothest a fact he’d learned the hard way.  He knew he needed to do something about that, but what he really didn’t know, short of wrapping each rung in fabric thick enough to prevent being jabbed.  
 
As Arabella yelled louder, James winced but didn’t dare hurry because of the risk of splinters from the ladder.  “I’ll be there in a moment.”  He called back, raising his voice a little, not that he came close to matching her volume.  He didn’t know she was peeking at him through the cracks and the keyhole but had he known, he’d have been shocked.  That was not the behavior of the proper young ladies from his home country.
 
Another wince, this time equal parts for the volume of her yells and the fact that she once again called him by something else other than his name.  Crossing the main floor, James opened the door.  "Good afternoon Miss Arabella.  As I said before my name is James.”  He offered her one of his bashful smiles, hoping this time she could retain the fact that his name was not Jimmy.  "We'd best hurry.  Wouldn't want to be late."  James was too embarrassed to look and see if any of his neighbors were watching after the way she's been yelling so loudly.  He offered her his arm and started down the road toward the main part of the tiny town.

Taking care to avoid splinters was hardly dithering so when she called his name again, James kept moving, though he didn’t hurry for good reason.  “Be right there.”  He called back smothering the urge to sigh.
 
“Quite all right.”  He said, then gave a little bow in response to her quick curtsy.  “Shall we be off then?”  The sooner they arrived the sooner this evening’s outing would be done so he could go home again.
 
James swallowed since he wasn’t exactly nervous, but he was more than a little apprehensive since he really hadn't wanted to attend Mr. Pettigrew’s little gathering in the first place.  “Are you planning to play the piano this evening?”  James asked politely when she patted his arm with the hand resting in the crook of his elbow.
 
James bit back a yelp as the shop girl, or so he assumed practically dragged them both through the door.  “Warn us?”  He looked up as if he could see through the room’s ceiling to those above.  He choked when Arabella said that he just looked like a cissy, then managed a brief comment in response to both of the young women, “None taken.”  
 
James admittedly didn’t really want to be here, but bolting would be ungentlemanly so he was stuck.  When Jemima began herding them, he moved between Jemima and Arabella so that she was protected.  As they reached the top of the stair, James drew Arabella to the side so Jemima could wiggle past and announce them. 

James let Arabella precede him, his gaze sweeping over the trio in Pettigrew’s quarters above his shop.  The man he hadn’t met before hardly seemed the sort he should worry about so he relaxed a little, waiting to be introduced properly.

"Oh no, that's all right Mister, I just work part time at the undertakers that's all!" she beamed, enjoying being the centre of attention "You haven't lived until you've had a Jolly funeral!" she trotted out their latest slogan. 

Blinking at the notion of a lady working at a funeral home, let alone the slogan Arabella shared with the group, James let out a nervous chuckle, his gaze darting from one person to the next seeking their reactions to what Arabella had just said.

"Well, I hope to wait a little bit longer before I try one out!" chuckled Mr Pettigrew who, although he seemed the supremely calm and jovial 'mein host' on the surface, was paddling his little duck feet furiously beneath the surface of the water to keep things moving along swimmingly. He swiftly moved on to introducing Reeve to Vaughn, as the subject of funerals might be upsetting to the recently bereaved Miss Orr. 

"Lewis Reeve" the dark haired fellow said simply "I understand you're a fellow lawyer, Mr Vaughn?"

James shook hands with the other young gentleman, managing a smile that was close to normal rather than rather appearing sick around the edges.  “I was studying to be, though I have not yet passed the bar.”  

"I'm glad to hear it - the one thing the world is surely in need of is more lawyers."

He acknowledged, then offered an attempt at a joke, “That’s not what William Shakespeare said about those in our professions.”

"Ha! Really?" Laughed Reeve.

"Well, Mr Vaughn, I believe the character who said 'let's kill all the lawyers' was actually a murderer, wasn't he?" put in Pettigrew. It's from Henry IV, isn't it?"

Arabella and Anæsthesia, unread airheads both, just gaped open mouthed, unable to contribute to this intellectual conversation. Well, that was unfair, Arabella read lots of reports about outlaws and murders and hangings in the newspaper and Anæsthesia consumed every single word of her regular journal The Young Lady, but neither of these sources of reading matter equipped them for conversations about Shakespeare or the law.

Still, not having anything useful to say never stopped Arabella speaking before, and this was no exception.

"Well, no one better try and kill my James, he's just the nicest man alive, ain't ya James?" she asked and grabbed onto his arm protectively.

"Do you know he's helpin' this poor blind girl what's called Frances Grimes, cause her brother got shot and I was there and tried to get in the way but my friend pulled me away. I mean, helpin' a poor blind girl like that, Ain't that just the noblest thing you ever heard of, Miss Orr?" Arabella gushed, and indeed, Anæsthesia did look impressed, gazing up at James with those big luminous blue eyes and gasping:

"That is a very kind thing to do Mr Vaughn. Mister Reeve is assisting me in a similar manner after the death of my dear departed Papa." 

"Well, that's pretty nice and all, Mr Reeve" agreed Arabella, then jerked a telling thumb at Miss Orr "... but she ain't blind!"

When introduced, James was quick to offer his hand for the customary shake before letting it fall back to his side
 
“Yes sir.”  James told their host with a slight smile and incline of his head.  “Dick the Butcher was not the most moral of men in the play about Henry the Fourth.”
 
James flushed when Arabella made her statement, latching onto his arm.  “Thank you, my dear.  That’s very sweet.”  James patted the small hand wrapped around his forearm.
 
Never one for being the center of attention, James flushed again, waving his free hand.  “I’m merely doing my Christian duty as a gentleman should.”  He said, “As anyone here would had Miss Grimes come to your place of employment seeking help.”  When Miss Orr turned her gaze his way, her blue eyes wide and shining, James resisted the urge to squirm, barely.  His lips curved in a quick smile before he dropped his gaze from hers.
 
“Blind or no, I’m sure Mr. Reeve’s aid has proved invaluable, in her situation.”  Like the other young lady, James’ father had passed away not that long ago so he had sympathy for her loss.

Mr. Pettigrew was a keen observer of his guests and their host had certainly hit the nail on the head in regards to James being an introvert.  Not that liquid refreshment would likely do much to bring the shy young British man out of his shell.  Though James would have certainly argued against the label of handsome being applied to him since he considered himself just a hair above plain at best.
 
James smiled slightly, giving a nod of his head before murmuring, “Thank you, sir.”  He couldn’t argue the point since he’d always been a reader and had often lost himself within the pages of a book.
 
James smiled at that, thinking that it was good for the young blind lady to make friends, even one as impulsive as Arabella.  He just hoped that Francis’ reserve and caution would keep her from ending up in any of Arabella’s mishaps as he himself had the day that he’d first met Arabella.  

“I do understand that.  Too often once people learn of the nature of my studies they often asked for legal advice, but were seldom willing to pay for the assistance.”  He gave a shrug, “I’m sure you know better than I how that goes.”
 
“Unfortunately not, “ James told Reeve with a shake of his head.  He’d been about to add that he was working at the surveyor’s office when Reeve started talking about the various legal codes in Montana and the surrounding territories.  Unlike the two young ladies listening in, James understood what Reeve was going on about, and offered up a few examples from his studies back in his native country.  He was trying not to be angry at his brother for Henry's refusal to share any of the funds he'd gotten from their father's death with him.  If Henry had given him even a quarter of his share, James might've been able to complete his education.