“… ah yes, if your charming nurse would stay also, for reasons of propriety. Miss Mudd, if we succeed, will be quite insensible for much of the time; with two gentlemen present I believe the presence of a chaperone would be meet.”
Aoife nodded confirmation at Mr. Pettigrew's suggestion, if only out of curiosity. She didn't imagine that Doctor Danforth was capable of such advances, but at the same time, she could hardly presume that an undergarment salesman knew even the first thing about the medical profession. It would probably be good to remain present and able to intervene, lest he begin waving snake oil under her nose or some other such nonsense.
The doctor offered a chair and she sat, tucking her skirt beneath her and crossing her arms over her chest. With no idea as to what ailed Miss Mudd or what was going to be attempted here today, she could do nothing but look on with a skeptic's eye.
“Do take a seat here next to me and I shall show the thing, it really is quite amusing.” Pettigrew told the girl, and the look that he subsequently sent in the direction of the doctor and herself was enough to contemplate an outward roll of the eyes. It was all she could manage, to hold her tongue for Jonah's sake.
The following performance stank so heavily of a charlatan's magic show that any open-mindedness that she might have harbored was diminishing by the second. That was, until the Mudd girl - a walking paragraph - was suddenly quiet.
“What’s your name?” asked Mr. Pettigrew.
“Arabella Mudd.” she replied.
The nurse sat forward in her chair, suddenly all eyes and ears.
“And where are we?”
Aoife turned her head to shoot a look at Jonah, one that seemed to ask; 'Is this really happening?'