Chapter Twelve: Preparations
That evening, Abigail met me in my room to help me get ready for the dinner with Colonel Tavington.
"You know," she said. "A lot of pretty young girls have come through here, but I don't think Colonel Tavington has ever favored one of them like you."
"I'm sure there's nothing to it," I answered her, even though I too was wondering why the colonel had been so nice to me.
"Well, you just think that," Abigail said, smiling.
"What am I supposed to wear to this thing?" I asked her. I had never been to any type of fancy dinner or ball in my life. My father had thrown a few lavish parties with his Loyalist friends, but my brothers and sisters and I had always been excluded.
"Oh, don't you worry about that!" Abigail said, grinning. "I have just the thing for you!"
"What is it?" I asked her, unable to hide the fact that I was actually looking forward to the dinner.
"I'll be right back with it," said Abigail, scuttling towards the door. "In the meantime, you just concentrate on combing the knots out of that hair!"
I nodded, and she left to retrieve the dress that was supposedly "just the thing" for me. I untied the leather cord that was wrapped around the end of my braid and began raking my fingers through my hair. There were several tangles throughout it, and I realized that I had not bothered to comb it during the last few days.
The door flew open and Abigail entered, carrying the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen. It was made out of a deep purple satin, with tiny lavender flowers embroidered on the skirt. Lace trimmed the collar and the hems of the elbow-length sleeves.
"Abigail!" I cried, rushing over to her. "How…where…?" I was so shocked that I couldn't even finish my sentences.
"I came from a relatively wealthy family," Abigail explained. "When I was captured, the British soldiers took many things of value, including some of my finer clothes. The ones I've been lending you up until now are things I've gotten since I came to the mansion, but this one was mine before I was captured. I guess none of the soldiers wanted to wear purple, so instead of cutting it up and making vests and jackets, they returned it to me." Abigail chuckled. "They're very proper like that."
"How old were you when you were captured?" I asked Abigail.
"Well," she said, thinking. "I'm twenty-three now….I got married last year…I'd have to have been about twenty when I was captured. I was living at home because my first husband had been killed in the war…" Her voice trailed off, and I decided that it would be best if I avoided the subject of her first husband.
"I'm nineteen," I said.
She nodded. "I was nineteen when I got married the first time," she said thoughtfully. "Oh well, that was quite a while ago, now wasn't it?"
I thought for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry Abigail. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Don't you fret about it now," she said, shrugging. "I suppose from time to time I probably should remember my life before all of this…"
"Probably," I said, trying to imagine Abigail wealthy and married to a soldier. "But I am sorry about your husband."
"Yes, well, I am too," she said, shaking her head. "War is never good. But I do love Peter…that's my husband now."
For a moment we both just sat in silence, thinking about how our lives had been before we had been captured by the British army. I knew that my life, even if I did escape, would never be the same. Not after my brother's death, and my other brother's abandonment of his troops.
"Anyway," said, Abigail, suddenly popping out of her thoughts. "You've got a fancy dress to get into!"
"Do you think it will fit?" I asked her, worriedly glancing at the slender waist of the dress.
"Oh, of course it will," she said with a wave of her hand. "You're a bit taller than me, but you're pretty slim. And you're a mite smaller now than you were when you first got here."
I nodded, taking her word for it. She handed me the gown and I slipped out of the dress I had been wearing all day. I was wearing my undergarments, and Abigail was another woman, so I didn't really care that she was in the room. I pulled the purple dress over my head. Self-consciously, I turned to Abigail.
"How does it look?" I asked her, nervously.
"Oh, honey, you're going to be the bell of the ball!" Abigail gushed.
"Abigail, I'm serious!" I said.
"So am I!" Abigail argued. "You look lovely!"
"Thank you," I said, still not completely convinced.
"Now, let's do something with that hair!" Abigail said, revealing a silver hair comb with a small purple jewel in it.
I turned around, completely entrusting my hair to Abigail. I could feel her twisting little bits of hair and pinning them up. Finally, after she had done this to all of my hair, she put the comb in.
"Here," she said, taking a small hand mirror out of her pocket.
"You certainly came prepared," I said, marveling at how many fine things Abigail possessed.
"You bet your britches I did," she replied.
I looked into the mirror. As much as I hated to admit it, I was astonished at my own appearance.
"Now, your little dinner should be starting up pretty soon, so why don't you head on downstairs. The high ranking officers are always the first ones there, so I'm sure Colonel Tavington will be waiting for you." She smiled at me. "You know, as awful as he can be, he really is a fine man, and can be quite the gentleman when he wants to be."
I grinned at Abigail and walked to the door. When I reached the doorway, I turned back to look at Abigail once again. She was already gathering up her things, no doubt off to spend the evening with her husband, once he was done with his work in the kitchens. I felt a sudden pang of guilt realizing that I was being treated so well, while a pregnant Abigail was forced to do manual labor daily, and her husband was cooking the food that I ate.
As though sensing my hesitance, Abigail looked up. She smiled. "Don't you worry about me," she said. "You go on and have fun." She turned back to her things.
"Abigail," I said.
She looked up.
"Thank you. Thank you for everything."
