Post by narumei on Mar 12, 2008 3:17:56 GMT -5
Victoria had grown up knowing only wealth and could not fathom the suffering of others, having never been exposed to it before. When going through town, whilst she was younger, Victoria had always been accompanied by at least two footmen and a maid to keep her safe and as a means for her family to boast of their wealth. She road only in carriages and had entertainment in the form of friends or suitors inside at all times. She had only ever had one encounter with poverty when a small, dirty street urchin approached her for money. Victoria had kindly refused at first, intimidated by that which she had never seen, but the child kept begging for money. Victoria had looked at the child and she couldn’t tell weather it was a girl or a boy, for it was so covered in filth. There were white streaks down the child’s cheeks from where it had obviously recently been crying. Victoria felt such a wave of sorrow for the child that she immediately reached into her purse to give it money. The child thanked her and fled so quickly that Victoria was quick startled. When she arrived home that day her parents berated her fiercely that she was not to give money away so simply, they cut off her funds indefinitely as a means of punishment and sent her to bed without tea or even ices. She had refused to come out of her room for a week after that and on the seventh day of silence, her mother, Lady Beatrice Bristol, entered her room. She told Victoria stories of street urchins and their lies. How they claim to be orphans, when, in fact, generous people’s money goes to buy drinks for their parents. She told tales of homeless people who had killed and done terrible things to people who had shown them kindness. For the first and last time, Victoria rebuked her mother.
“I don’t believe that anyone so pitiful would do that to someone who helped. I don’t think it’s possible. Would you be able to do that, Mother? Could you kill someone who helped you? No. I think you must be lying.” She had said it slowly, thoughtfully, mulling over the possibilities while she spoke. Beatrice stood up and slapped Victoria across the face with the back of her hand, her elaborate diamond ring slicing a tiny cut on her cheek. Blood instantly rushed to Victoria’s face in embarrassment and shame and she held a hand to her cheek.
“Victoria,” she had said, “I never want to hear you go against what I say. Our word is the only truth you need hear and you must never call me a liar again. You must understand the order of things in this house. You are not high in the ranks, child, so do not presume to hold your head so high.” And with that she had walked out of the room. Tears sprung to Victoria’s eyes, but she wasn’t angry at her mother. She was so ashamed of doing what she knew to be wrong, and she couldn’t believe that she had accused her mother of lying. Instead of feeling hatred towards Beatrice, she felt a new kind of respect. She didn’t think that her mother was cruel, she saw her as strong, to be so willing to hurt your own child in order to enforce “the truth” was to be stronger that Victoria could ever hope to be. And that was the start of Victoria’s warped mind, seeing power and wealth as the highest respect. She no longer cared for her friends the same way, she saw them as tools to get higher in social status and she didn’t feel affectionate towards her sisters, she just turned them away, ignoring their questions and admiration of her.
“Mama?” Abigail said for what seemed like the hundredth time. She turned to get some help as her mother wasn’t responding at all, her expression blank and her eyes glassy.
“Stop!” Abigail whirled around and saw that her mother was back from whatever world she had disappeared to. “You selfish, stupid child! Do you not know? Our maids and butlers regularly converse with other low citizens in the town, and gossip slowly trickles thought the servant’s quarters. Only God knows who could find out about your wild behaviour. I can only thank the good Lord that your behaviour thus far hasn’t been spread. We must have loyal servants.”
The rage, yet again, rose in Abigail, until she no longer cared what was said.
“Or scared ones!” she replied, angrily. Her mother walked towards her until she was mere inches from Abigail’s face.
“What did you say?” she asked, he voice dripping with menace and an unspoken threat.
“I only mean, Mama, that we must have very scared servants. If gossip travels the way you say it does, and I’m such a good source for gossip, then there is no other explanation than the fact that they are simply scared of you and Papa.” She concluded with a shrug.
“I don’t know what you are talking about you insolent brat!” Abigail, although she didn’t show it was stung by the words. Victoria had never before become so mad. She was visibly shaking with rage as she flung out a hand and grabbed Abigails arm. Abigail tried to shake her off but her mothers long polished fingernails just dug deeper. “Lord knows we tried to stamp out this rebellious streak you seem to have, but you’re so stubborn that you just will not cease!” on the word cease, her mother tightened her grip even further. “This little problem you have will stop right now, or, so help me, I will...I will...” Victoria tried to find a threat that she had not used before but nothing came to her. Abigail smirked up at her mother with one eyebrow raised.
“You’ll what? Put me in the stocks? Imagine the rumours then!” She took a lengthy breath of air in an imitation of a gasp, similar to what her mother was always doing, and grinned up at her.
“Why you...” Again, Victoria had nothing left to say, she had used every insulting thing she could think of short of cursing and she was too much of a lady to even know most swear words. Instead, in her fury and agitation she lifted a hand to hit Abigail the same way her mother had. Abigail lifted her head, too proud to turn away, but couldn’t help wincing as her hand rose higher.
“Vicky!” A harsh male voice boomed from the staircase. Only one person had ever dared to call Victoria, Vicky, and it was the one person who she feared most. Feared and loved at the same time.
It was yet again a different fear to the usual; Victoria was so in love with Sir John Bryan that what she feared most was that he would leave her. Divorce was the worst thing that could happen to a woman socially in London in 1799. But, John Bryan was so ignorant of social status that she doubted he would leave her if provoked. The next thing she feared most was that he would not leave her, but hire a mistress instead. Although mistresses were frowned upon, it was easy to keep a secret and for someone as rich as John Bryan, no one would dare insult them. She turned to face the man that she so dearly loved and so entirely feared and winced at the anger shown on his face.
“You dare raise a hand to our daughter?” He asked, disbelief mingling his features. Victoria sidled up to him and looked up at his face, for he was simply so tall that she had to look up. “What was her offence?”
“She went against my word, and deliberately disobeyed me.” She said quietly.
“And that gives you right to hit her?” He asked, slowly restoring self-control to both Victoria and Abigail. “You know that as wild as she is, she would never try to hit you, or keep you from hitting her. You knew this and you still tried to hit her, and she had no defence. How hard would you have hit her? Do you know?”
“Just enough to calm her, milord.” Abigail inwardly groaned. Victoria only ever called her husband “milord” when she wanted to butter him up, so that he would take her side, instead of Abigails. “She was going wild, talking and dancing in the halls by herself.” John’s eyes widened in shock.
“Is this true?” He asked her, when she did not reply, he asked again, more fiercely.
“Well, yes and no Papa.” She answered, scared to give a more lengthy reply
“Tell me what you were doing.” He said to her. His voice was so commanding that she couldn’t help but obey.
“I was...imagining.” She started. She struggled hopelessly for a way to explain without revealing the truth. “I was pretending I was fighting an enemy. The dancing Mama is saying she saw, isn’t true, I was parrying attacks.”
“YOU SEE?!” Victoria burst out suddenly. “She accuses me of lying!”
“I don’t think she was doing that, Vicky. She is just saying that you merely misunderstood”
“Milord! You cannot go against me. I know what I saw. She was talking to herself as well. Explain that if you can, Abigail!” Abigail stared daggers at her mother but couldn’t think of a way to explain the talking without giving away having read her brother’s novels. She couldn’t think up a lie quick enough before her father became suspicious.
“That’s it! You lie to me; you lie to your mother and look at what you are wearing!” Abigail looked down at her clothes, grinned and stared back at her father. “Are you not ashamed Abby? We are trying to help you become a lady, so you will have a good life.” His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to give up the fight, so that he did not have to choose between his daughter and his wife. In the instant that their eyes met, Abigail knew that under any circumstance, John would choose Victoria over Abigail. Abigail had always loved her father and understood his attempts to keep peace in the family. They had shared stories and played together when she was young, and he younger, and he taught her to read and write. At night, when Abigail had nightmares, her father would sneak her into the kitchen and make her hot cocoa and some cake, which the cook continually berated them for in the morning. But when she looked into his eyes she saw that he was tired. He was tired of trying to keep the peace and tired of his work, of social life, of everything. And, she thought with despair, tired of her. He was so tired that he couldn’t even muster up the strength to fight for her. To persuade her mother that Abigail was good. “If we can’t turn you into what you have to be, we’ll send you else where.” Her mother’s look of triumph was almost more than Abigail could bear.
“Surely not,” Abigail’s hand flew to her mouth, in her one lady-like act that day. He father lightly pushed her mother away and walked to Abigail, placing his hands on her shoulders. She felt extremely intimidated, as he was so very tall, but defiant as well. She showed him the defiance through her eyes when she looked up at him.
“Don’t give me that look.” He said sharply, “I talked with the piano tutor today,” Abigail grinned at the memory, not caring to pretend she was ashamed anymore. John pretended he didn’t notice, “He told me of the way you acted, and what you did to him. You’re a disgrace Abby.” She forgot the tutor, forgot her mother even forgot where she was. Her father had never spoken so harshly to her and he had never said anything to seriously hurt her. She thought she had prepared herself for whatever he would say, but she was wrong. She was not prepared for this. No daughter could be prepared for this. She knew what was coming next. She had been threatened with it so many times, but it had never been acted upon. “You’re going to the Academy.” And that was it. Her world was shattered. Her life turned completely upside down. She didn’t even realise that she was screaming until she felt comforting hands on her. She stopped to take in a breath and saw Nathaniel, standing next to her, staring at her with such pity that she thought she would die. She didn’t know how long she’d been screaming, but she was breathless when she realised it. She was gulping in air so fast, that Nathaniel was moving as well as her as her body moved to breath.
The Academy. Properly known as Lady Maxine’s Academy for Girls, the Academy was home to young girls of rich upbringing to be properly trained as Ladies. The girls that graduated showed knowledge in math, language and literature as well as knowledge of social standards and grace. Such things as trivial as table settings and how to walk and how to eat was studied there, above lessons on literature and math. Abigail supposed that many people, less fortunate than her, would love to study there, so they could obtain good jobs. But for Abigail it was a prison cell. She would be stuck with any number of stupid giggling girls and have to wear a dress everyday. She would study all the boring things that Nathaniel had to study. She was loath to the very idea of studying math and language, but literature was a tiny ray of hope that could make the Academy not as sufferable. She entertained the idea for a moment that she would get to study novels and be allowed into libraries where she could get anything she wanted. Although she now realised that her future at the academy held no freedom, she would not allow herself to cry in front of her mother. She hated her now more than ever, for lying to her father about her. But what was even worse, was her father’s betrayal. She had trusted him more than anyone. When she had no friends, which was all her life, her father was her friend. She would entrust her dearest possessions and secrets to him, but he did not see their relationship as she did. And she would never forgive him. Not ever. She stood up tall, and brushed away Nathaniel with an apologetic smile. Then she turned her gaze to her mother.
“Mama, you have never liked me, I had hoped that you might have loved me for who I am, but you’re too concerned about your precious image.” She fought to keep anger and sarcasm down and remain cool and collected like Nathaniel. Her mother started to say something but was cut off by her father.
“Of course she loves you, Abby.” He said sweetly “But we are scared that your nature will lead to you never getting married, or leading a normal life.” Nathanial groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands, remembering the similar mistake he had made earlier. Abigail’s hands, for the third time in only a few hours curled into fists, she threw her hands behind her back in an effort to hide them while she could calm down. She faced the floor, as she had done in Nathaniel’s room while she tried and tried to calm down. Her father cast a stricken look at Nathaniel and then at Abigail, wondering what he had done to provoke such a reaction in them both.
“Normal life?” She asked, “Is that what separates people, Papa? Is that how you decide who is worthy and who is not? Because I am happy to behave as I already do. And Nathaniel? Is he your favourite because he does what he’s supposed to? You wish me to wed but you don’t say who, or give me any time. I am fourteen, Papa! I have two years until my coming out and even further to get married. You assume because of your high rank, that I want to be high class too! I don’t ever want to be like you and Mama. Well I refuse. I refuse to marry based on my life and on yours! I REFUSE!” Although the argument had become heated and Abigail was furious, she absolutely would not let herself cry although the urge to collapse on the floor in a soggy heap had its appeals. She didn’t want her brother or father to take pity on her because she was so young. She stood up tall and showed them how strong she really was. “I hate you Papa.” She finished softly. Her voice carried through the hall to her father and he breathed deeply, as though expecting her to say it.
“No you don’t, Abby. You are just upset. Now pack you’re things, I’ll send a letter to Maxine now.”
Abigail turned and walked to the servant’s stairs, she walked down them as though she was floating, with perfect grace and aplomb, and her feet couldn’t be heard hitting the carpeted stairway. She didn’t stop until she was in front of the cook, where she promptly threw herself into the cook’s arms, only shedding a single tear.
The next morning, Abby woke up with a feeling of peaceful bliss. She stretched like a cat on her bed, pushing back the bedclothes. She was still donned in her brother’s riding clothes, not wishing to take them off for a second knowing that she would have to wear dresses from now on. It was as she was thinking this that she suddenly remembered the night before. She threw herself out of bed so quickly that her maid, Amelia, almost dropped the water-jug.
“Why, good-morning, Miss Abby. You gave me quite a fright, is everything ok?”
“Has Papa changed his mind?” She asked, ignoring Amelia’s question. She stared at Amelia, begging her to tell the truth.
“I don’t know, my lady. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, upon the morn.” She threw out a hand to stop Abigail, but to no prevail. Quick as lighting, Abigail spun on the ball of her foot around the maid and ran out the door. She charged straight into her parent’s room, without knocking first. John and Victoria Bryan both looked up in surprise as their daughter charged through the door. Mrs Bryan rolled her eyes and turned back to the dressing table mirror, but Lord Bryan could not take his eyes off his daughter.
“Now, Abby, I said it, and I meant it. You’re going today.” He said quickly, in an effort to end the awkward conversation. Abigail’s eyes started heating up but her father quickly stopped it, “Abby! No matter how much you scream or yell about it, I’m not changing my mind. Yesterday was the final straw.” Abigail stared at him in mock surprise.
“Why, father,” he winced at the use of such a formal address coming from Abigail, “I had not even entertained the idea that you would let me stay home” Which, of course was an abject lie. “I simply came to ask you when the carriage will be arriving, so that I may tell Amelia when to start moving my belongings. I’m all packed.” Her father was overjoyed at her change of heart, completely ignorant to his daughter’s true feelings.
“Well, I say, that is a most constructive change of attitude Abby. I think sometime around 9:30 is what Maxine told me.” Abigail smiled sweetly up at him.
“While you may be on first name basis with the owner of the Academy, you have no right to address me so informally. From this moment forth, you shall call me Abigail or nothing at all. Is that ok with you, father?” John simply gaped at her, at a total loss for words. “Well, that will suit nicely. I should go and get dressed then.” She turned to her mother, “Do you think, mother, that the green dress, with the gold, would be ok for today?” Her mother glanced up at her and gave a curt nod. Abigail grinned at her and left the room.
“My my my, Abby, I mean Abigail, has certainly warmed up to the idea, don’t you think so, dear?”
“I’m afraid, darling, that you are simply to naïve to see what you’re daughter really is. If she is ready and waiting with packed bags at 9:30, I’ll give away my entire family fortune.” John raised his eyebrows at her. He shook his head, refusing to believe that Abigail would be so reckless.
Cont. to chapter 2
“I don’t believe that anyone so pitiful would do that to someone who helped. I don’t think it’s possible. Would you be able to do that, Mother? Could you kill someone who helped you? No. I think you must be lying.” She had said it slowly, thoughtfully, mulling over the possibilities while she spoke. Beatrice stood up and slapped Victoria across the face with the back of her hand, her elaborate diamond ring slicing a tiny cut on her cheek. Blood instantly rushed to Victoria’s face in embarrassment and shame and she held a hand to her cheek.
“Victoria,” she had said, “I never want to hear you go against what I say. Our word is the only truth you need hear and you must never call me a liar again. You must understand the order of things in this house. You are not high in the ranks, child, so do not presume to hold your head so high.” And with that she had walked out of the room. Tears sprung to Victoria’s eyes, but she wasn’t angry at her mother. She was so ashamed of doing what she knew to be wrong, and she couldn’t believe that she had accused her mother of lying. Instead of feeling hatred towards Beatrice, she felt a new kind of respect. She didn’t think that her mother was cruel, she saw her as strong, to be so willing to hurt your own child in order to enforce “the truth” was to be stronger that Victoria could ever hope to be. And that was the start of Victoria’s warped mind, seeing power and wealth as the highest respect. She no longer cared for her friends the same way, she saw them as tools to get higher in social status and she didn’t feel affectionate towards her sisters, she just turned them away, ignoring their questions and admiration of her.
“Mama?” Abigail said for what seemed like the hundredth time. She turned to get some help as her mother wasn’t responding at all, her expression blank and her eyes glassy.
“Stop!” Abigail whirled around and saw that her mother was back from whatever world she had disappeared to. “You selfish, stupid child! Do you not know? Our maids and butlers regularly converse with other low citizens in the town, and gossip slowly trickles thought the servant’s quarters. Only God knows who could find out about your wild behaviour. I can only thank the good Lord that your behaviour thus far hasn’t been spread. We must have loyal servants.”
The rage, yet again, rose in Abigail, until she no longer cared what was said.
“Or scared ones!” she replied, angrily. Her mother walked towards her until she was mere inches from Abigail’s face.
“What did you say?” she asked, he voice dripping with menace and an unspoken threat.
“I only mean, Mama, that we must have very scared servants. If gossip travels the way you say it does, and I’m such a good source for gossip, then there is no other explanation than the fact that they are simply scared of you and Papa.” She concluded with a shrug.
“I don’t know what you are talking about you insolent brat!” Abigail, although she didn’t show it was stung by the words. Victoria had never before become so mad. She was visibly shaking with rage as she flung out a hand and grabbed Abigails arm. Abigail tried to shake her off but her mothers long polished fingernails just dug deeper. “Lord knows we tried to stamp out this rebellious streak you seem to have, but you’re so stubborn that you just will not cease!” on the word cease, her mother tightened her grip even further. “This little problem you have will stop right now, or, so help me, I will...I will...” Victoria tried to find a threat that she had not used before but nothing came to her. Abigail smirked up at her mother with one eyebrow raised.
“You’ll what? Put me in the stocks? Imagine the rumours then!” She took a lengthy breath of air in an imitation of a gasp, similar to what her mother was always doing, and grinned up at her.
“Why you...” Again, Victoria had nothing left to say, she had used every insulting thing she could think of short of cursing and she was too much of a lady to even know most swear words. Instead, in her fury and agitation she lifted a hand to hit Abigail the same way her mother had. Abigail lifted her head, too proud to turn away, but couldn’t help wincing as her hand rose higher.
“Vicky!” A harsh male voice boomed from the staircase. Only one person had ever dared to call Victoria, Vicky, and it was the one person who she feared most. Feared and loved at the same time.
It was yet again a different fear to the usual; Victoria was so in love with Sir John Bryan that what she feared most was that he would leave her. Divorce was the worst thing that could happen to a woman socially in London in 1799. But, John Bryan was so ignorant of social status that she doubted he would leave her if provoked. The next thing she feared most was that he would not leave her, but hire a mistress instead. Although mistresses were frowned upon, it was easy to keep a secret and for someone as rich as John Bryan, no one would dare insult them. She turned to face the man that she so dearly loved and so entirely feared and winced at the anger shown on his face.
“You dare raise a hand to our daughter?” He asked, disbelief mingling his features. Victoria sidled up to him and looked up at his face, for he was simply so tall that she had to look up. “What was her offence?”
“She went against my word, and deliberately disobeyed me.” She said quietly.
“And that gives you right to hit her?” He asked, slowly restoring self-control to both Victoria and Abigail. “You know that as wild as she is, she would never try to hit you, or keep you from hitting her. You knew this and you still tried to hit her, and she had no defence. How hard would you have hit her? Do you know?”
“Just enough to calm her, milord.” Abigail inwardly groaned. Victoria only ever called her husband “milord” when she wanted to butter him up, so that he would take her side, instead of Abigails. “She was going wild, talking and dancing in the halls by herself.” John’s eyes widened in shock.
“Is this true?” He asked her, when she did not reply, he asked again, more fiercely.
“Well, yes and no Papa.” She answered, scared to give a more lengthy reply
“Tell me what you were doing.” He said to her. His voice was so commanding that she couldn’t help but obey.
“I was...imagining.” She started. She struggled hopelessly for a way to explain without revealing the truth. “I was pretending I was fighting an enemy. The dancing Mama is saying she saw, isn’t true, I was parrying attacks.”
“YOU SEE?!” Victoria burst out suddenly. “She accuses me of lying!”
“I don’t think she was doing that, Vicky. She is just saying that you merely misunderstood”
“Milord! You cannot go against me. I know what I saw. She was talking to herself as well. Explain that if you can, Abigail!” Abigail stared daggers at her mother but couldn’t think of a way to explain the talking without giving away having read her brother’s novels. She couldn’t think up a lie quick enough before her father became suspicious.
“That’s it! You lie to me; you lie to your mother and look at what you are wearing!” Abigail looked down at her clothes, grinned and stared back at her father. “Are you not ashamed Abby? We are trying to help you become a lady, so you will have a good life.” His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to give up the fight, so that he did not have to choose between his daughter and his wife. In the instant that their eyes met, Abigail knew that under any circumstance, John would choose Victoria over Abigail. Abigail had always loved her father and understood his attempts to keep peace in the family. They had shared stories and played together when she was young, and he younger, and he taught her to read and write. At night, when Abigail had nightmares, her father would sneak her into the kitchen and make her hot cocoa and some cake, which the cook continually berated them for in the morning. But when she looked into his eyes she saw that he was tired. He was tired of trying to keep the peace and tired of his work, of social life, of everything. And, she thought with despair, tired of her. He was so tired that he couldn’t even muster up the strength to fight for her. To persuade her mother that Abigail was good. “If we can’t turn you into what you have to be, we’ll send you else where.” Her mother’s look of triumph was almost more than Abigail could bear.
“Surely not,” Abigail’s hand flew to her mouth, in her one lady-like act that day. He father lightly pushed her mother away and walked to Abigail, placing his hands on her shoulders. She felt extremely intimidated, as he was so very tall, but defiant as well. She showed him the defiance through her eyes when she looked up at him.
“Don’t give me that look.” He said sharply, “I talked with the piano tutor today,” Abigail grinned at the memory, not caring to pretend she was ashamed anymore. John pretended he didn’t notice, “He told me of the way you acted, and what you did to him. You’re a disgrace Abby.” She forgot the tutor, forgot her mother even forgot where she was. Her father had never spoken so harshly to her and he had never said anything to seriously hurt her. She thought she had prepared herself for whatever he would say, but she was wrong. She was not prepared for this. No daughter could be prepared for this. She knew what was coming next. She had been threatened with it so many times, but it had never been acted upon. “You’re going to the Academy.” And that was it. Her world was shattered. Her life turned completely upside down. She didn’t even realise that she was screaming until she felt comforting hands on her. She stopped to take in a breath and saw Nathaniel, standing next to her, staring at her with such pity that she thought she would die. She didn’t know how long she’d been screaming, but she was breathless when she realised it. She was gulping in air so fast, that Nathaniel was moving as well as her as her body moved to breath.
The Academy. Properly known as Lady Maxine’s Academy for Girls, the Academy was home to young girls of rich upbringing to be properly trained as Ladies. The girls that graduated showed knowledge in math, language and literature as well as knowledge of social standards and grace. Such things as trivial as table settings and how to walk and how to eat was studied there, above lessons on literature and math. Abigail supposed that many people, less fortunate than her, would love to study there, so they could obtain good jobs. But for Abigail it was a prison cell. She would be stuck with any number of stupid giggling girls and have to wear a dress everyday. She would study all the boring things that Nathaniel had to study. She was loath to the very idea of studying math and language, but literature was a tiny ray of hope that could make the Academy not as sufferable. She entertained the idea for a moment that she would get to study novels and be allowed into libraries where she could get anything she wanted. Although she now realised that her future at the academy held no freedom, she would not allow herself to cry in front of her mother. She hated her now more than ever, for lying to her father about her. But what was even worse, was her father’s betrayal. She had trusted him more than anyone. When she had no friends, which was all her life, her father was her friend. She would entrust her dearest possessions and secrets to him, but he did not see their relationship as she did. And she would never forgive him. Not ever. She stood up tall, and brushed away Nathaniel with an apologetic smile. Then she turned her gaze to her mother.
“Mama, you have never liked me, I had hoped that you might have loved me for who I am, but you’re too concerned about your precious image.” She fought to keep anger and sarcasm down and remain cool and collected like Nathaniel. Her mother started to say something but was cut off by her father.
“Of course she loves you, Abby.” He said sweetly “But we are scared that your nature will lead to you never getting married, or leading a normal life.” Nathanial groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands, remembering the similar mistake he had made earlier. Abigail’s hands, for the third time in only a few hours curled into fists, she threw her hands behind her back in an effort to hide them while she could calm down. She faced the floor, as she had done in Nathaniel’s room while she tried and tried to calm down. Her father cast a stricken look at Nathaniel and then at Abigail, wondering what he had done to provoke such a reaction in them both.
“Normal life?” She asked, “Is that what separates people, Papa? Is that how you decide who is worthy and who is not? Because I am happy to behave as I already do. And Nathaniel? Is he your favourite because he does what he’s supposed to? You wish me to wed but you don’t say who, or give me any time. I am fourteen, Papa! I have two years until my coming out and even further to get married. You assume because of your high rank, that I want to be high class too! I don’t ever want to be like you and Mama. Well I refuse. I refuse to marry based on my life and on yours! I REFUSE!” Although the argument had become heated and Abigail was furious, she absolutely would not let herself cry although the urge to collapse on the floor in a soggy heap had its appeals. She didn’t want her brother or father to take pity on her because she was so young. She stood up tall and showed them how strong she really was. “I hate you Papa.” She finished softly. Her voice carried through the hall to her father and he breathed deeply, as though expecting her to say it.
“No you don’t, Abby. You are just upset. Now pack you’re things, I’ll send a letter to Maxine now.”
Abigail turned and walked to the servant’s stairs, she walked down them as though she was floating, with perfect grace and aplomb, and her feet couldn’t be heard hitting the carpeted stairway. She didn’t stop until she was in front of the cook, where she promptly threw herself into the cook’s arms, only shedding a single tear.
The next morning, Abby woke up with a feeling of peaceful bliss. She stretched like a cat on her bed, pushing back the bedclothes. She was still donned in her brother’s riding clothes, not wishing to take them off for a second knowing that she would have to wear dresses from now on. It was as she was thinking this that she suddenly remembered the night before. She threw herself out of bed so quickly that her maid, Amelia, almost dropped the water-jug.
“Why, good-morning, Miss Abby. You gave me quite a fright, is everything ok?”
“Has Papa changed his mind?” She asked, ignoring Amelia’s question. She stared at Amelia, begging her to tell the truth.
“I don’t know, my lady. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, upon the morn.” She threw out a hand to stop Abigail, but to no prevail. Quick as lighting, Abigail spun on the ball of her foot around the maid and ran out the door. She charged straight into her parent’s room, without knocking first. John and Victoria Bryan both looked up in surprise as their daughter charged through the door. Mrs Bryan rolled her eyes and turned back to the dressing table mirror, but Lord Bryan could not take his eyes off his daughter.
“Now, Abby, I said it, and I meant it. You’re going today.” He said quickly, in an effort to end the awkward conversation. Abigail’s eyes started heating up but her father quickly stopped it, “Abby! No matter how much you scream or yell about it, I’m not changing my mind. Yesterday was the final straw.” Abigail stared at him in mock surprise.
“Why, father,” he winced at the use of such a formal address coming from Abigail, “I had not even entertained the idea that you would let me stay home” Which, of course was an abject lie. “I simply came to ask you when the carriage will be arriving, so that I may tell Amelia when to start moving my belongings. I’m all packed.” Her father was overjoyed at her change of heart, completely ignorant to his daughter’s true feelings.
“Well, I say, that is a most constructive change of attitude Abby. I think sometime around 9:30 is what Maxine told me.” Abigail smiled sweetly up at him.
“While you may be on first name basis with the owner of the Academy, you have no right to address me so informally. From this moment forth, you shall call me Abigail or nothing at all. Is that ok with you, father?” John simply gaped at her, at a total loss for words. “Well, that will suit nicely. I should go and get dressed then.” She turned to her mother, “Do you think, mother, that the green dress, with the gold, would be ok for today?” Her mother glanced up at her and gave a curt nod. Abigail grinned at her and left the room.
“My my my, Abby, I mean Abigail, has certainly warmed up to the idea, don’t you think so, dear?”
“I’m afraid, darling, that you are simply to naïve to see what you’re daughter really is. If she is ready and waiting with packed bags at 9:30, I’ll give away my entire family fortune.” John raised his eyebrows at her. He shook his head, refusing to believe that Abigail would be so reckless.
Cont. to chapter 2