New to the District

"Yes, miss," Maggie answered. "Nothing catching, just a headache I think."

"Then a cool dark room would be just the place to allow her to rest," Emma replied decisively. "I take it you are her friend?" And if she was, then this young woman would be a far better person to look after her than Emma.

"Yes, miss," she answered, looking warily at the officers. "I'm Maggie Cotton, miss." She bobbed a small curtsey and hoped that Cotton would not get in trouble for this strange situation. It was really nobody's fault, except maybe the surgeon for not looking after his patient better.

Maggie Cotton... Why did the surname seem so familiar? She looked again at the girl, and smiled. "I hope you do not think it presumptuous of me to ask, but are you perhaps related to a Gabriel Cotton? He is my brother's soldier-servant."

The footman stood silently near by, waiting to be given further direction. He dared not interrupt the conversation between the two women. Especially not since one of them was obviously Quality.

"Yes, miss. He's my husband." Maggie turned at the sound of someone behind her, and she was relieved to see the footman. The rest of the young lady's speech was lost on her while her mind was busily sorting out what to do with Jenny. She crossed over to the sofa and patted her friend's cheek, trying to wake her. "Jenny? Jenny, wake up. Don't fall asleep yet. We have to get you to your bed. Jenny! I think you'll have to carry her," she said to the footman.

"I have sal volatile, if that would be of assistance," Emma replied, offering her vinaigrette to Mrs Cotton. There were quite a few people here now, and this was becoming a most undignified scene. "Shall you require my assistance with your friend?" she asked, as the footman bent to lift Miss Ross from the sofa.

The footman simply nodded at the first woman's direction and moved at once to obey it. To his private surprise, the girl he was to carry did not weigh as much as he'd feared.

"No, Miss," he said, answering the better-dressed woman's query.

"Thank you, miss," Maggie said, absently accepting the vinaigrette. Then she looked at it and quickly handed it back. It was far too beautiful. "I mean, thank you, but no, I think she'll be all right if we just find her a place to sleep. Thank you. So sorry for all the disturbance." She gave the footman an urgent look and moved toward the door.

"No, I insist," Emma said, getting up to press it into her hand. "You can give it back later, when your friend is recovered. If there is anything else I can do, please let me know."

Oh help. Maggie grew rather alarmed, quickly imagining accusations of theft like that time with that bloody watch. She pulled her hand away is if the item burned her. "No. Thank you miss," she said firmly. She looked nervously at the men nearby, hoping they would take note. If that vinaigrette turned up missing, they could not say she was to blame. "I'll see her right. Thank you." And she bobbed another nervous curtsey.

What in the world had she done? It was nothing more than a simple silver vinaigrette, and yet the other woman had pulled her hand away as though it had scalded her. Perhaps if she could get the two women to a private room, it would help to calm Mrs Cotton's nerves somewhat?

"There is a room prepared for your friend," she said, opening the door for the footman; he had both hands full and Mrs Cotton appeared... distracted.

"Yes miss. Thank you. The housekeeper showed me." She gave the young lady a tight smile and slipped out the door.

And she had vanished like a ghost. Emma sighed and looked around the room. "I must apologise," she said. "I... I find I have the headache and need to rest a little." And so saying, she slipped out of the door after Mrs Cotton.

(They go here.)