Author's Note: Sorry for another short chapter! The story is undergoing another of what I call "transitional stages," in which we're moving from one major event to the next. These chapters are generally difficult to write, but I think without them it would just be too much drama!
Chapter Nineteen: All I Could Expect
After my argument with William I felt lost. In the time that we had been courting, my world had revolved around him, and our time together. My only had been Abigail, and after our fight, I turned to her once again.
Peter, unfortunately, was forced to return to the kitchens if he wished to remain in the mansion. Hungry soldiers, it seemed, had little sympathy for cooks who happened to be new fathers. However, with Peter back at work, I was able to spend my days in Abigail's quarters with her and her new daughter.
The morning after my fight with William I got up and dressed and hurried to Abigail's quarters. I knocked on the door and Abigail quickly called for my to come in.
"Good morning," I said, walking into the room. Abigail was sitting on her bed, holding the baby.
"Oh, it's you Charlotte," said Abigail, relief in her voice.
"Who were you expecting?" I asked. To my knowledge, I was the only person in the mansion that Abigail socialized with outside of working.
"Oh, that fool of a man, Dr. Stanton, keeps coming 'round trying to check on the baby," she said, angrily. "I've been letting him in just long enough to tell him not to come back, but he's terribly persistent."
I laughed. "Well, it might be better to let him look at her. Just to make sure she's in good health," I said. I didn't want to nose into Abigail's affairs, but I wasn't a doctor, and for the baby's sake, letting a real doctor check her seemed wise.
Abigail sighed. "Oh, you're probably right," she admitted.
"Have you and Peter come up with a name?" I asked, suddenly realized that I was not aware of the child's name yet.
"We named her Josephine Margaret," Abigail informed me proudly.
I drew in my breath and my heart skipped a beat at the name Margaret. Abigail noticed this.
"What's wrong?" she asked me. "You don't like the name?"
"No, no," I reassured her quickly. "It's a beautiful name. You see, my little sister's name is Margaret." I said "is," but in my mind I was questioning whether I should have said "was."
"Oh," said Abigail, nodding. A sort of sad expression came over her face. "You miss her, eh?"
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. I did miss her. And I missed little Susan, who would be three soon. And I missed my mother. I even missed my father. Mostly, I missed John. Poor John. I hadn't thought of him in a while, but suddenly memories came flooding back to me. I remembered when we were younger and John and Nathan and myself would play together. I remembered when they got old enough to go hunting with Father, and how I missed them. Just barely, I could remember Margaret's birth, and quite clearly I remembered Susan's. Up until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I did miss them.
"Oh, Charlotte," said Abigail, putting a sleeping Josephine in the crib that Peter had carved in his precious little spare time. She walked to me and gave me a hug.
I pulled away. "No," I said, shaking my head as tears streamed down my face. "I don't deserve anyone's pity," I sobbed.
"Why not?" asked Abigail, simply.
"Because I've been awful," I cried. And then I told her the entire story of what had happened between my brother and I. And I told her about my argument with the colonel the previous day. I told her absolutely everything, going on for at least an hour, taking breaks every so often to catch my breath. I cried until I had no more tears left.
The entire time Abigail listened. She never said anything, never interrupted me. She never even nodded. All she did was listen, letting my tell my entire story uninterrupted. Finally, when I was finished, she spoke.
"Charlotte," she said. "I don't deny that what happened wasn't fair. No one should have to choose between the man they love and their family." She sighed, and looked down.
"Abigail," I said, forcing her to look me in the eye. "What should I do?"
She took a deep breath. "I don't think there's anything you can do, Charlotte. You just have to wait. And it may take some time, but if he loves you, Colonel Tavington will forgive you."
