Post by narumei on Mar 12, 2008 3:40:18 GMT -5
Chapter 6: The Brightest Lorikeet
Abigail sighed deeply.
“What is it, Abigail?” whispered Grace,
“Don’t you do anything besides worship here?” Abigail whispered back. Grace smiled.
“That’s what I thought when I started. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to it.” Abigail groaned and leaned her head on the back of the pew in front of her. She had been late to rise again that morning and Cynthia had to shake her to wake her up. When she realised what the time was she practically flew out of the bed and pulled on her clothes, with out first washing. Cynthia berated her severely, much to Abigail’s surprise, and Abigail had to waste time then taking off her clothes so that she could have a wash. Cynth poured hot water from a jug into a basin on the dressing table. Then, from the cupboard she brought in a wash cloth, face cloth and a towel, all pure white, with white lace trim. Abigail thanked Cynthia and quickly washed herself. Then she called Cynthia back in to help her into a dress. She chose a dress the colour of crimson, matching her streak almost exactly, and pulled her hair back with her black ribbon, despite Cynthia’s loud protests against it. Then a frantic Grace came knocking to bring Abigail down to breakfast. They hardly had time for toast and jam before the bell signalled that they had to go to church. The church was positioned in the centre of the school grounds. Firstly it was surrounded by a garden of rose bushes; filled with every colour rose available. After that there was grass, where, Grace explained, the girls sat to read or do homework, and occasionally on really nice days, had classes. Abigail asked if mass was ever held outside, but Grace only had to look at her like she was mad to give her the answer.
Now, all Abigail could see was her slippered feet. She had taken great care too look around at the other girls and see what they were wearing. She noticed that the girls were wearing much more demure colours than what she had chosen. All except Grace, who was wearing the dress that Abigail had given her, again. They both stood out like flowers among thorns in the heavily populated chapel. Their apparel had caused a lot of sniggering from the other girls and a nun who worked in the chapel had chastised them for wearing such gaudy clothing into a house of God. The nun had originally intended to send them back to make them change their clothes but Grace had talked her out of it. Now they were sitting in the back of the church listening to the monotonous sound of the priest.
“And Moses said to Israel…” he was saying. Abigail tried to block out what he was saying, having heard it many times before. Abigail knew from memory that the priest was reading from Deuteronomy. Chapter 28, she guessed. “Today I am giving you the laws and teachings of the Lord, your God.” He continued. This was the section of the Bible that was the harshest, in Abigail’s opinion, even worse than being stoned to death, or being crucified. This was the part where it enforced God’s law. “The Lord will bless you if you obey.” She remembered “Curses on those who disobey.”
She finished the priest’s sentence, mouthing the words as he said them, Always obey them, and the Lord will make Israel the most famous and important nation on Earth, and he will bless you in many ways. She mouthed along, to Grace’s astonishment.
“How do you know all that?” she asked, excitedly.
“My father would read that to me every time I misbehaved.” Grace made a little o with her mouth and looked back towards the front of the basilica. Two hours later Grace and Abigail left the church and made their way back to the main house, Abigail dragging her feet behind her.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Bryan. Comment allez vous?” Abigail looked up from where she was standing by the door and hastened to reply,
“Bonjour, Madam. Je vais bien, merci. Et vous?” Hello, Madam, I am well thankyou. And you?
“Je vais bien, aussi. Asseyez vous pres de Grace.” I am well also. Please sit next to Grace.
“Oui, Madam.” Yes, Madam.
Grace smiled widely from where she was sitting as Abigail dropped into the seat next to her.
“Well done,” she whispered. Abigail smiled weakly back.
“Abigail Bryan?” Abigail jumped and stood,
“Yes Madam?” she asked.
“Your French, it is superb. Zis language is not an easy one, who taught you?” she said through a thick French accent.
“I was taught by a French tutor for a year. After that, my maid helped me to continue learning it.”
“Very good. Class, I want you to listen when Abigail speaks in French. Notice her pronunciation and accentuation on particular words.” Abigail blushed and sat back down. The whole class was staring at her curiously. “I am Madam Beauvont. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Abigail nodded in response. Madam Beauvont was a large woman, both tall, and wide. She wore a white woollen shawl over a light blue dress that fell to her feet. Her skin was darker than most, as though she spent hours outside without a parasol. She was writing on the chalkboard in perfect cursive the date and instructions. “Monday, Sixteenth of July. Write a letter entirely in French to a member of your family. These letters will be sent.” Abigail sighed. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was send a letter home. Madam Beavont sailed past the desks, checking ink wells and quills. When she got to where Grace and Abigail were sitting and said quietly,
“Abigail, Madam Maxine told me of your…situation. You may write a letter to a friend if you like,” then, turning to Grace, she said, “Grace, as usual, you may write to whomever you wish.” Grace smiled uncomfortably and leaned over the paper. Abigail thought for a moment. She didn’t have anyone outside the academy that wasn’t her family. She wasn’t particularly partial to the idea of writing to one of her brother’s many friends, who were also friends with her. She looked around the classroom, wondering who everyone else would write to. Her gaze swept around to the left and landed on Grace. She smiled and picked up the quill, dipping it into the black depths of the ink well. Occasionally someone would raise a hand to ask a question to Madam Beaumont, usually about word order or phrasing. Each girl, besides Abigail, came equipped with an English to French dictionary so most of the lesson passed quietly and without major disruption. An hour later, Madam Beaumont tapped the board with the chalk.
“Posez vos plumes. That’s an hour. Time to finish.” Some of the girls hastened to write the last lines of their letters. Grace stretched out and leant back. Today she was wearing a green dress, which again held the same cheap, plain quality as the blue one that she had given Abigail. The fabric stretched and loosened when Grace leant back, and Abigail couldn’t help noticing that Grace was truly a stunning girl. She turned to Abigail smiling.
“Who did you write yours to?” she asked. Abigail thought for a moment then said,
“I’m not telling,” she laughed. “how about you?”
“I’m not telling if you’re not.” Abigail laughed again. Grace looked at her suspiciously.
“What is with you at the moment?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re always laughing. Or smiling, or joking. You weren’t like this before.” Abigail bit the side of her lip, thinking.
“I think I’m settling in here well. That’s all. I am really having a nice time,” she smiled.
“Well, I’m glad. I told you that you would like it soon enough.” She said. Abigail looked down at her letter.
“What’s our next class?” she asked Grace.
“Literature. With Mrs James.” Abigail whipped her head up.
“Literature? Brilliant! What are we studying at the moment?” she asked excitedly.
“Well, we just finished Isaiah. So I suppose that means we’re up to…oh yes! Jeremiah. You’re lucky. You came just in time for a new chapter.”
“What?”
“Don’t say what. You’ll get in trouble. Say pardon.” Abigail ignored her.
“What do you mean “Jeremiah”? That’s a book from the Bible.”
“Yes, of course. What did you think we’d be studying?” she said, blowing lightly on the ink on her letter.
“We study the Bible?” she said, as though it hurt.
“Well, yes. We don’t study anything else. For the four years we’re here, we complete a complete study of the Bible.” Abigail’s eyes flared in anger. Grace, noticing this was quick to continue. “It’s not so bad! It’s actually quite interesting. You learn all about the people through history.”
“If I wanted to learn about history, I would have chosen the subject to study. Isn’t literature about novels and books. Adventure novels and creative writing?” she said frantically.
“Why, of course not. We only study the Bible. And we sometimes write reports on it, but mostly we just re-write it all onto paper.”
“WHAT?” Abigail stood up quickly.
“Mademoiselle Bryan! Sit down! Class will finish shortly.” Again, Abigail ignored it.
“We re-write the entire Bible?!” she screeched.
“Abigail! Sit down!” Grace hissed, glancing around the classroom. The other girls were watching the scene unfold with excitement. “Yes, that’s what we do. It’s what we have to do. We have no choice.” Abigail grunted rudely in acknowledgement, too busy thinking to form a sentence. She looked at Grace,
“I may be back soon. Don’t wait for me.” She said and started towards the door of the classroom. Suddenly something large and heavy looking moved in front of her. She looked up and met the eyes of Madam Beauvont. The deep green of her eyes repulsively reminded Abigail of algae. Her eyes dimmed and she relaxed her hands. She turned around, as if to go back to her seat. When she felt the lady relax behind her, she spun back.
“Never let your guard down.” She said, so quietly that she was sure only the shocked teacher would hear. She sidestepped her, spinning in a complete circle on the ball of her foot, turning around and dodging out the door. She ran out of the room and down a long corridor, passing classrooms where surprised teachers and students stood to watch her race past. She left the building and ran towards the main house. Groups of giggling girls that were moving from class to class watched her in surprise and she realised that classes must have finished. She sped up, revelling at being the centre of attention, rather than being embarrassed. Girls jumped back to get out of her way. She grinned devilishly, and jumped up the stairs at the back entrance to the main building. She raced up two more flights of stairs until she reached Lady Maxine’s room where she thumped on the door, and without waiting for an answer, burst in. Maxine let out a lady-like scream.
“Abigail! Dear, you gave me a fright!” she said, her hand pressed tightly to her chest.
“The Bible?!” she spluttered, “we study the BIBLE?”
“Why of course,” Lady Maxine said, fiddling with her hair. “that’s what you do in Literature. There is no book more substantial than the Bible.”
“Oh I agree with you that it is a great fantasy maybe,” she said coyly, as the words sunk in, “a great story, adventure, but we’ve all studied this at home.” Maxine shot Abigail a withering look, and despite herself, Abigail sunk back.
“The curriculum here is pre-ordained. Its unchangeable, and unnegotiable. You will continue your studies of the Bible. Maybe you’ll learn some moral standards while you’re at it.” Abigail gaped at the lady. Was this truly the lady that had complimented her and defended her against her parents? Was she really so two-faced? The answer was yes, and Abigail realised there was nothing she could do about it.
“My apologies, Madam. The studies caught me by surprise is all.” She backed out of the room, seething inside.
Sunday, October 14 1703
“So, how are you faring, Abigail?” her fathers words were strained, as if it took all his strength to remain calm. He was sitting on a lounge opposite Abigail, with Nathaniel sitting next to him. Nathaniel’s hands were balled up at his sides, his gaze pointedly staring in another direction. Abigail sat on a delicately embroidered chair of gold and white with red mahogany arms and legs. Her dress flowed over the sides of the chair and spilled out in front of her. The red streak in her hair was powdered over and swept up in a pile atop her head with the rest of her black locks. She leant lightly on the arms of the chairs and gazed at her father absent-mindedly. “You seem to be doing well.” He continued cautiously, wary of Abigail’s reaction. When Abigail simply continued to gaze at him, he continued “Maxine says you’re doing well.” Abigail’s gaze sharpened,
“I’m sure Maxine has said a lot,” she replied, testily.
“No, actually,” he replied with equal annoyance, “why, do you think there is more I need know?” Abigail just rolled her eyes and sunk back into the chair. Her gaze flitted over to Nathaniel where he was tactfully finding a portrait of a bird vastly interesting, and continued to stare at it. The silence was deafening. The flitting of maids in the hall and the sounds of footsteps above them served only to increase the blatancy of their silence. It was the fourth visiting day since Abigail had started at the Academy but it was the first time that anyone from her family had actually come to see her. It was not a pleasant experience. When her father and Nathaniel had come, the other girls that were in the area craned their necks to see them. The maids sighed after her father and the girls sighed after Nathaniel. She saw a group of girls from her class leaning over the banister on the next floor up, just to get a look at them. Even Grace’s eyes followed Nathaniel, as much as she tried to hide it. She watched as Madam Beauvont came past and shooed the girls away from the banister and they hurried away, giggling into their gloves, only to see Madam Beauvont herself lean over the banister they had just vacated. Nathaniel didn’t look at a single one of the girls who tried to get his attention. One even dropped her handkerchief in the hope he would pick it up for her and she could meet him. She was destined for disappointment however and Nathaniel simply walked over it, not even noticing.
“Why didn’t you come to see me before?” Abigail asked them from the chair, although her voice suggested that she didn’t really care. Nathaniel and Lord Bryan exchanged uneasy glances.
“Well, we wanted to but-” Nathaniel started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“But?” Abigail prompted.
“Well, you see-” her father started, but he didn’t know what to say either. Abigail sighed and looked bored with her family. They seemed to be content to not answer her question, so she put another to them,
“Why didn’t she come?” no one needed to clarify who “she” was. They all knew she was talking about the Lady Bryan.
“We thought it best to give you two some time apart,” her father said, happy that her focus wasn’t on him anymore. Abigail raised a menacing eyebrow.
“It has been over four months, Lord Bryan. You think that is just ‘some time’?” she asked. As she had expected, John winced at her formality.
“Yes, well, I don’t think she really wants to see you.” Abigail said nothing and merely nodded.
“You didn’t come for my birthday.” She commented slowly.
“We sent you a very nice dress!” Her father exclaimed in his defence. Abigail looked bored.
“We’re sorry, Abigail. We didn’t come here to upset you.” Nathaniel said. He had been unnaturally quiet since he had arrived, which didn’t particularly bother Abigail. She preferred not to talk to him anyway.
“I’m not upset at all. I expected as much from her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is the reason you didn’t see me earlier yourself.” Again John and Nathaniel exchanged glances. Abigail looked from one to the other as realisation dawned on her. “Oh I see!” she exclaimed, “so she is the reason you didn’t come,” she wasn’t angry, or annoyed, she actually sounded amused. “Well, I should have thought of that in the first place. You two are scared of her aren’t you?”
“Now see here!” he father started, jumping to his feet, but Abigail got in before he could draw another breath.
“Oh father, do sit down. Don’t be so silly,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t want to argue with you. I was simply curious.” He sat. “It doesn’t bother me a jot that you didn’t come to see me. I have been pre-occupied with study anyway,” she finished.
“I hear that that’s going well for you, Abigail.” Nathaniel said quickly. Abigail noticed that he didn’t address her as she wished, but waved it off.
“Yes. I enjoy studying. I find it all very fascinating,” she said to them.
“You always hated the books in my room. The ones of math and science, and now you have your own.”
“I wasn’t ready for study then. I didn’t understand all that it was. And now I do,” she smiled lightly.
“You’ve changed, little sister,” he said quietly. The abrupt reminder of their relation brought Abigail’s head up quickly. Abigail knew that she had grown more serious since their last meeting, but Nathaniel noticing didn’t give her the satisfaction she thought it would.
“Honestly Nathaniel, it has only been four months. You’re being melodramatic.”
Abigail sighed deeply.
“What is it, Abigail?” whispered Grace,
“Don’t you do anything besides worship here?” Abigail whispered back. Grace smiled.
“That’s what I thought when I started. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to it.” Abigail groaned and leaned her head on the back of the pew in front of her. She had been late to rise again that morning and Cynthia had to shake her to wake her up. When she realised what the time was she practically flew out of the bed and pulled on her clothes, with out first washing. Cynthia berated her severely, much to Abigail’s surprise, and Abigail had to waste time then taking off her clothes so that she could have a wash. Cynth poured hot water from a jug into a basin on the dressing table. Then, from the cupboard she brought in a wash cloth, face cloth and a towel, all pure white, with white lace trim. Abigail thanked Cynthia and quickly washed herself. Then she called Cynthia back in to help her into a dress. She chose a dress the colour of crimson, matching her streak almost exactly, and pulled her hair back with her black ribbon, despite Cynthia’s loud protests against it. Then a frantic Grace came knocking to bring Abigail down to breakfast. They hardly had time for toast and jam before the bell signalled that they had to go to church. The church was positioned in the centre of the school grounds. Firstly it was surrounded by a garden of rose bushes; filled with every colour rose available. After that there was grass, where, Grace explained, the girls sat to read or do homework, and occasionally on really nice days, had classes. Abigail asked if mass was ever held outside, but Grace only had to look at her like she was mad to give her the answer.
Now, all Abigail could see was her slippered feet. She had taken great care too look around at the other girls and see what they were wearing. She noticed that the girls were wearing much more demure colours than what she had chosen. All except Grace, who was wearing the dress that Abigail had given her, again. They both stood out like flowers among thorns in the heavily populated chapel. Their apparel had caused a lot of sniggering from the other girls and a nun who worked in the chapel had chastised them for wearing such gaudy clothing into a house of God. The nun had originally intended to send them back to make them change their clothes but Grace had talked her out of it. Now they were sitting in the back of the church listening to the monotonous sound of the priest.
“And Moses said to Israel…” he was saying. Abigail tried to block out what he was saying, having heard it many times before. Abigail knew from memory that the priest was reading from Deuteronomy. Chapter 28, she guessed. “Today I am giving you the laws and teachings of the Lord, your God.” He continued. This was the section of the Bible that was the harshest, in Abigail’s opinion, even worse than being stoned to death, or being crucified. This was the part where it enforced God’s law. “The Lord will bless you if you obey.” She remembered “Curses on those who disobey.”
She finished the priest’s sentence, mouthing the words as he said them, Always obey them, and the Lord will make Israel the most famous and important nation on Earth, and he will bless you in many ways. She mouthed along, to Grace’s astonishment.
“How do you know all that?” she asked, excitedly.
“My father would read that to me every time I misbehaved.” Grace made a little o with her mouth and looked back towards the front of the basilica. Two hours later Grace and Abigail left the church and made their way back to the main house, Abigail dragging her feet behind her.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Bryan. Comment allez vous?” Abigail looked up from where she was standing by the door and hastened to reply,
“Bonjour, Madam. Je vais bien, merci. Et vous?” Hello, Madam, I am well thankyou. And you?
“Je vais bien, aussi. Asseyez vous pres de Grace.” I am well also. Please sit next to Grace.
“Oui, Madam.” Yes, Madam.
Grace smiled widely from where she was sitting as Abigail dropped into the seat next to her.
“Well done,” she whispered. Abigail smiled weakly back.
“Abigail Bryan?” Abigail jumped and stood,
“Yes Madam?” she asked.
“Your French, it is superb. Zis language is not an easy one, who taught you?” she said through a thick French accent.
“I was taught by a French tutor for a year. After that, my maid helped me to continue learning it.”
“Very good. Class, I want you to listen when Abigail speaks in French. Notice her pronunciation and accentuation on particular words.” Abigail blushed and sat back down. The whole class was staring at her curiously. “I am Madam Beauvont. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Abigail nodded in response. Madam Beauvont was a large woman, both tall, and wide. She wore a white woollen shawl over a light blue dress that fell to her feet. Her skin was darker than most, as though she spent hours outside without a parasol. She was writing on the chalkboard in perfect cursive the date and instructions. “Monday, Sixteenth of July. Write a letter entirely in French to a member of your family. These letters will be sent.” Abigail sighed. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was send a letter home. Madam Beavont sailed past the desks, checking ink wells and quills. When she got to where Grace and Abigail were sitting and said quietly,
“Abigail, Madam Maxine told me of your…situation. You may write a letter to a friend if you like,” then, turning to Grace, she said, “Grace, as usual, you may write to whomever you wish.” Grace smiled uncomfortably and leaned over the paper. Abigail thought for a moment. She didn’t have anyone outside the academy that wasn’t her family. She wasn’t particularly partial to the idea of writing to one of her brother’s many friends, who were also friends with her. She looked around the classroom, wondering who everyone else would write to. Her gaze swept around to the left and landed on Grace. She smiled and picked up the quill, dipping it into the black depths of the ink well. Occasionally someone would raise a hand to ask a question to Madam Beaumont, usually about word order or phrasing. Each girl, besides Abigail, came equipped with an English to French dictionary so most of the lesson passed quietly and without major disruption. An hour later, Madam Beaumont tapped the board with the chalk.
“Posez vos plumes. That’s an hour. Time to finish.” Some of the girls hastened to write the last lines of their letters. Grace stretched out and leant back. Today she was wearing a green dress, which again held the same cheap, plain quality as the blue one that she had given Abigail. The fabric stretched and loosened when Grace leant back, and Abigail couldn’t help noticing that Grace was truly a stunning girl. She turned to Abigail smiling.
“Who did you write yours to?” she asked. Abigail thought for a moment then said,
“I’m not telling,” she laughed. “how about you?”
“I’m not telling if you’re not.” Abigail laughed again. Grace looked at her suspiciously.
“What is with you at the moment?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re always laughing. Or smiling, or joking. You weren’t like this before.” Abigail bit the side of her lip, thinking.
“I think I’m settling in here well. That’s all. I am really having a nice time,” she smiled.
“Well, I’m glad. I told you that you would like it soon enough.” She said. Abigail looked down at her letter.
“What’s our next class?” she asked Grace.
“Literature. With Mrs James.” Abigail whipped her head up.
“Literature? Brilliant! What are we studying at the moment?” she asked excitedly.
“Well, we just finished Isaiah. So I suppose that means we’re up to…oh yes! Jeremiah. You’re lucky. You came just in time for a new chapter.”
“What?”
“Don’t say what. You’ll get in trouble. Say pardon.” Abigail ignored her.
“What do you mean “Jeremiah”? That’s a book from the Bible.”
“Yes, of course. What did you think we’d be studying?” she said, blowing lightly on the ink on her letter.
“We study the Bible?” she said, as though it hurt.
“Well, yes. We don’t study anything else. For the four years we’re here, we complete a complete study of the Bible.” Abigail’s eyes flared in anger. Grace, noticing this was quick to continue. “It’s not so bad! It’s actually quite interesting. You learn all about the people through history.”
“If I wanted to learn about history, I would have chosen the subject to study. Isn’t literature about novels and books. Adventure novels and creative writing?” she said frantically.
“Why, of course not. We only study the Bible. And we sometimes write reports on it, but mostly we just re-write it all onto paper.”
“WHAT?” Abigail stood up quickly.
“Mademoiselle Bryan! Sit down! Class will finish shortly.” Again, Abigail ignored it.
“We re-write the entire Bible?!” she screeched.
“Abigail! Sit down!” Grace hissed, glancing around the classroom. The other girls were watching the scene unfold with excitement. “Yes, that’s what we do. It’s what we have to do. We have no choice.” Abigail grunted rudely in acknowledgement, too busy thinking to form a sentence. She looked at Grace,
“I may be back soon. Don’t wait for me.” She said and started towards the door of the classroom. Suddenly something large and heavy looking moved in front of her. She looked up and met the eyes of Madam Beauvont. The deep green of her eyes repulsively reminded Abigail of algae. Her eyes dimmed and she relaxed her hands. She turned around, as if to go back to her seat. When she felt the lady relax behind her, she spun back.
“Never let your guard down.” She said, so quietly that she was sure only the shocked teacher would hear. She sidestepped her, spinning in a complete circle on the ball of her foot, turning around and dodging out the door. She ran out of the room and down a long corridor, passing classrooms where surprised teachers and students stood to watch her race past. She left the building and ran towards the main house. Groups of giggling girls that were moving from class to class watched her in surprise and she realised that classes must have finished. She sped up, revelling at being the centre of attention, rather than being embarrassed. Girls jumped back to get out of her way. She grinned devilishly, and jumped up the stairs at the back entrance to the main building. She raced up two more flights of stairs until she reached Lady Maxine’s room where she thumped on the door, and without waiting for an answer, burst in. Maxine let out a lady-like scream.
“Abigail! Dear, you gave me a fright!” she said, her hand pressed tightly to her chest.
“The Bible?!” she spluttered, “we study the BIBLE?”
“Why of course,” Lady Maxine said, fiddling with her hair. “that’s what you do in Literature. There is no book more substantial than the Bible.”
“Oh I agree with you that it is a great fantasy maybe,” she said coyly, as the words sunk in, “a great story, adventure, but we’ve all studied this at home.” Maxine shot Abigail a withering look, and despite herself, Abigail sunk back.
“The curriculum here is pre-ordained. Its unchangeable, and unnegotiable. You will continue your studies of the Bible. Maybe you’ll learn some moral standards while you’re at it.” Abigail gaped at the lady. Was this truly the lady that had complimented her and defended her against her parents? Was she really so two-faced? The answer was yes, and Abigail realised there was nothing she could do about it.
“My apologies, Madam. The studies caught me by surprise is all.” She backed out of the room, seething inside.
Sunday, October 14 1703
“So, how are you faring, Abigail?” her fathers words were strained, as if it took all his strength to remain calm. He was sitting on a lounge opposite Abigail, with Nathaniel sitting next to him. Nathaniel’s hands were balled up at his sides, his gaze pointedly staring in another direction. Abigail sat on a delicately embroidered chair of gold and white with red mahogany arms and legs. Her dress flowed over the sides of the chair and spilled out in front of her. The red streak in her hair was powdered over and swept up in a pile atop her head with the rest of her black locks. She leant lightly on the arms of the chairs and gazed at her father absent-mindedly. “You seem to be doing well.” He continued cautiously, wary of Abigail’s reaction. When Abigail simply continued to gaze at him, he continued “Maxine says you’re doing well.” Abigail’s gaze sharpened,
“I’m sure Maxine has said a lot,” she replied, testily.
“No, actually,” he replied with equal annoyance, “why, do you think there is more I need know?” Abigail just rolled her eyes and sunk back into the chair. Her gaze flitted over to Nathaniel where he was tactfully finding a portrait of a bird vastly interesting, and continued to stare at it. The silence was deafening. The flitting of maids in the hall and the sounds of footsteps above them served only to increase the blatancy of their silence. It was the fourth visiting day since Abigail had started at the Academy but it was the first time that anyone from her family had actually come to see her. It was not a pleasant experience. When her father and Nathaniel had come, the other girls that were in the area craned their necks to see them. The maids sighed after her father and the girls sighed after Nathaniel. She saw a group of girls from her class leaning over the banister on the next floor up, just to get a look at them. Even Grace’s eyes followed Nathaniel, as much as she tried to hide it. She watched as Madam Beauvont came past and shooed the girls away from the banister and they hurried away, giggling into their gloves, only to see Madam Beauvont herself lean over the banister they had just vacated. Nathaniel didn’t look at a single one of the girls who tried to get his attention. One even dropped her handkerchief in the hope he would pick it up for her and she could meet him. She was destined for disappointment however and Nathaniel simply walked over it, not even noticing.
“Why didn’t you come to see me before?” Abigail asked them from the chair, although her voice suggested that she didn’t really care. Nathaniel and Lord Bryan exchanged uneasy glances.
“Well, we wanted to but-” Nathaniel started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“But?” Abigail prompted.
“Well, you see-” her father started, but he didn’t know what to say either. Abigail sighed and looked bored with her family. They seemed to be content to not answer her question, so she put another to them,
“Why didn’t she come?” no one needed to clarify who “she” was. They all knew she was talking about the Lady Bryan.
“We thought it best to give you two some time apart,” her father said, happy that her focus wasn’t on him anymore. Abigail raised a menacing eyebrow.
“It has been over four months, Lord Bryan. You think that is just ‘some time’?” she asked. As she had expected, John winced at her formality.
“Yes, well, I don’t think she really wants to see you.” Abigail said nothing and merely nodded.
“You didn’t come for my birthday.” She commented slowly.
“We sent you a very nice dress!” Her father exclaimed in his defence. Abigail looked bored.
“We’re sorry, Abigail. We didn’t come here to upset you.” Nathaniel said. He had been unnaturally quiet since he had arrived, which didn’t particularly bother Abigail. She preferred not to talk to him anyway.
“I’m not upset at all. I expected as much from her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is the reason you didn’t see me earlier yourself.” Again John and Nathaniel exchanged glances. Abigail looked from one to the other as realisation dawned on her. “Oh I see!” she exclaimed, “so she is the reason you didn’t come,” she wasn’t angry, or annoyed, she actually sounded amused. “Well, I should have thought of that in the first place. You two are scared of her aren’t you?”
“Now see here!” he father started, jumping to his feet, but Abigail got in before he could draw another breath.
“Oh father, do sit down. Don’t be so silly,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t want to argue with you. I was simply curious.” He sat. “It doesn’t bother me a jot that you didn’t come to see me. I have been pre-occupied with study anyway,” she finished.
“I hear that that’s going well for you, Abigail.” Nathaniel said quickly. Abigail noticed that he didn’t address her as she wished, but waved it off.
“Yes. I enjoy studying. I find it all very fascinating,” she said to them.
“You always hated the books in my room. The ones of math and science, and now you have your own.”
“I wasn’t ready for study then. I didn’t understand all that it was. And now I do,” she smiled lightly.
“You’ve changed, little sister,” he said quietly. The abrupt reminder of their relation brought Abigail’s head up quickly. Abigail knew that she had grown more serious since their last meeting, but Nathaniel noticing didn’t give her the satisfaction she thought it would.
“Honestly Nathaniel, it has only been four months. You’re being melodramatic.”