Abigail's Secret (A Whimsical Select Romance Novella)

by Ternie, Tamara

  “It’s been quite a few years since I saw her last and hoped to get reacquainted with her,” he replied. “She’s soon to be my wife,” he added after a few moments passed.

  The declaration caused Abigail to intake so much air that she began to cough and sputter.

  “Are you all right?”

  She waved him off but remained incapable of speech after she heard his shocking announcement. Abigail no longer questioned the town’s sanity but that of her own. Nothing made sense from the time she’d stepped off the stage. There wasn’t another man to whom she ever loved more than Brice Winslow. She had spent countless days in her childhood woolgathering with images of him returning the sentiment, but it wasn’t meant to be. In fact, his actions before she escaped to Baltimore made that remarkably clear. She brushed the unpleasant memory aside but her anger by the recollection still remained. “And this marriage…when is it to take place?” she asked. She made a poor attempt at hiding her irritation.

  “Not rightly sure, but I suppose soon enough. At least I hope so.”

  “Eager due to the love you have for your beholden,” she asked sugary sweet, but all the while she glared at his turned-away face. She was getting more annoyed by each moment passed. How he dared to profess he was engaged to the very person he humiliated all those years ago was beyond her comprehension.

  “No, nothing as the likes of that,” he said. “I was just fortunate enough to have won her in a poker game.”

  “You what?” she nearly shouted. “And by whose authority would do such a beastly thing to this woman?” She huffed out her frustration, but of course she knew the answer. Only one person in Mecklenburg lost so greatly in cards and not by fault of folly. “Really, to give a woman away in a poker game, I have never heard of such a reprehensible act!”

  Brice leaned into her and lowered himself until his broad shoulder brushed against her dainty one. He then whispered in a deep husky voice that nearly brought her to chills, as it had done so many times years ago. “Her brother lost the game, and the woman is worth a very, very large fortune.”

  She wanted to throttle Thomas, as well as Brice. In circles outside of Mecklenburg, her brother was well known in the gambling houses since he rarely lost. Yet in their hometown, Thomas saw gambling as a way to distribute money to those less fortunate. He figured it as a way of helping townsmen without forcing them to face the humility of the asking. However, Abigail thought with irritation, it was the first time her brother had extended his charity beyond the coin.

  “A fortune, you say?” Although her parents had plenty of coffers, she hadn’t but a small amount of savings which she set aside by being a sempstress at Mrs. Unklesbay’s House of Linen in Baltimore. “So, that is why there was such an affair at the station for this woman? Due to her wealth?” she asked.

  Brice steered the team to the front of Maggie Rush’s large, white farmhouse that comfortably housed fifteen guests but rarely lodged more than five at any given time. It wasn’t until the carriage stopped that he obliged her with a reply.

  “The woman’s dowry gives her husband the amount of gold equivalent to her weight. Most men came to the station hoping to gain her attention so she’ll throw me over and consider them for her suitor.”

  She gritted her teeth and was infuriated that her brother had publicly announced the embarrassing terms of her dowry. She would never have thought him capable of such cruelty. Abigail inhaled deeply and asked, “How are you so sure that she’ll choose you above all those other men who arrived today?”

  Brice looked off in front him and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Although she’s not aware, I once overheard her confess her love for me.” Brice turned and grinned. He looked like a ten year-old boy who was sure he’d catch his fish on the first cast. “I reckon that will most definitely give me the advantage above all others.”

  Heat rose to Abigail’s cheeks by his confession and it forced her to look back at a time she desperately wanted forgotten. He had made her look like a fool to the whole of the town, as well as to herself. Abigail’s reply came harsh and direct when she indignantly snatched her bags from the back of the carriage. “Don’t count on it, mister,” she declared, and she marched alone to Maggie Rush’s door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After Maggie confirmed the relieving news that her brother was alive and fit as a fiddle, Abigail set off that very next afternoon to kill him. Maggie was more than accommodating to aid her in the cause. As Abigail, Maggie thought what Thomas had done was unforgivable. Sending Abigail along with the use of her carriage, Maggie wished her well and promised she’d keep her arrival secret from those in town. Yet Maggie was hard pressed to believe that no one recognized Abigail. Maggie recognized her immediately when she walked through the door that previous day. Yet, Abigail considered they were like sisters growing up and there wasn’t anyone who knew her better than Maggie Rush. Since she and Maggie were both deemed oddities in town, they had found themselves a likely sort and became fast friends. That became invaluable in her present situation, as all Maggie’s rooms were occupied by out-of-town guests who had arrived for the Abigail Large event. Being so, Maggie shared her private room for Abigail to sleep.

  There were boodles of carriages and buckboards scattered across her brother’s lawn, and as far as a mile stretch on either side down the lane. Abigail steered the phaeton to the back of their family’s red brick estate that stood out majestically by its eight towering columns that supported a gabled roof. She went through the entry portico, entered the door, and aimed her direction straight for Thomas’s study. She knew he’d be there, as it was where he regularly worked his books during the day. She burst open the door and made her entrance. He sat with a full stack of papers in front of him that rested atop her father’s old mahogany desk that stood on claw cariole legs. He was hunched over another heap of journals that he was perusing through spectacles low upon his nose. Abigail took a quick sweep inside the room. It had been her father’s study and she hadn’t entered the room since he was killed during the war, five years past. Her mother’s heart was so almighty broken by the loss of her beloved that she followed his passing not even one month after receiving the news. Thomas hadn’t changed a single item and everything remained precisely the same as she always remembered it, from the paisley floor coverings to the bright orange tapestries. She looked upon the wall and saw her mother’s portrait. It was then Abigail truly felt she was home.

  “Thomas James Edgar Large, how dare you!” she shouted at him.

  Thomas abruptly rose from his seat and nervously tugged down his single breasted notched collar vest and reached for his black sack coat and shrugged it on, as if embarrassed that he’d been caught naked otherwise. He then adjusted his already straight necktie and finally began speaking denials, but then he abruptly stopped. When he tried to repeat his action of speech, only incoherent utterances escaped.

  “You’ve made many imprudent choices in your lifetime, Thomas, but this is by far the cruelest and most foolish action you’ve ever taken!”

  Thomas removed the reading spectacles from his face and moved away from his desk. His gait was slow and hesitant when he walked to her, and Abigail believed he looked sincerely mortified for what he had done to her. She wondered whether he’d embrace or reason with her in greeting, as they hadn’t seen each other in many years.

  “I do not know what you are speaking about.” He looked at her peculiarly, returned the spectacles to his nose, and looked at her again. Thomas shook his head. “Who are you?”

  That took all the bluster out of her. She wondered how a family member who had known her the whole of her life didn’t recognize her, despite her physical changes. But then again, they had spent very little time together as children and even less once grown. With Thomas nearly ten years her senior, they had very little common interests as they grew up. Nonetheless, it hurt her feelings when she fully grasped that the only living family member she had left in the world didn’t identify her
as kin.

  “Tommy, it’s me, Abigail,” she said, nearly in tears.

  “Abigail?” Thomas walked cautiously toward her until he stood in front of her. He considered her from head to heel. She stood before him as he examined her in her slimming green silk moire patterned gown, accented with black velvet. She nervously twiddled a curl from her chestnut hair. “Truly, you are Abigail?” He didn’t look convinced. Thomas looked down into her eyes and smiled. “Dash, Abigail, if not for your sapphire eyes in so much resemblance to that of our mother’s, I’d call you a fibber.” His smile grew wider on his face and he grabbed her into his arms and hugged her tight. “Welcome home, Abigail. You look exceedingly fetching in your new trim skin.”

  She returned his embrace but quickly pushed him away. “Oh Thomas,” she said with a heavy sigh. “What were you thinking to announce the terms of my dowry? And worse, give me away in a poker game to Brice Winslow? We both darn well know that you never lose in cards unless you’re intentionally trying to give something away.” Abigail reached up and twisted his ear, hard. “That was deserved,” she replied when his stunned expression turned to irritation.

  “I would’ve deserved that if I was eight, Abigail, I’m now thirty-eight.” He rubbed his ear and guided Abigail to the settee on the other side of the room. “I apologize, Abigail. I never expected such mayhem to arise over your dowry, I swear it.”

  “Now that it has, you need to correct it.”

  “And how do you propose I do that? I cannot rescind your dowry, as I haven’t the authority since it’s stated in our father’s will.”

  She groaned out her frustration and Thomas sat looking all balled up inside. Abigail smiled forgivingly at him and patted his hand. “It’s all right, Thomas. Perhaps it’s best if I just return home to Baltimore. In time, all will settle and return back to normal.”

  “You’re not able to do that either, Abigail.”

  “Why in the world not?”

  Thomas anxiously shifted his position on the settee several times until he stood and walked back to his desk. He ruffled through some papers inside a drawer until he retrieved and held a telegram in his hand. Protectively covering the ear that was nearest Abigail, he sat down beside her.

  “That,” he said as he handed her the message, “Is just one of many I received from our Northern friends.” Thomas winced before he added, “News has reached Baltimore about your dowry and has been published in The Baltimore Sun. Since the day you left, men have been lining up for several city blocks at your residence.” After his confession, Thomas held his ear tighter than a calf’s mouth to its mother’s teat and he cautiously leaned away from Abigail.

  Abigail tweaked his nose, and even harder than she had previously done so with his ear. “You’ve ruined my life, Thomas,” she moaned.

  “It wasn’t my intent, Abigail,” he nasally returned as he tightly held the tip of his nose.

  The door to Thomas’s study hurled open and rebounded off the adjoining wall’s oak wainscoting and then slammed shut with Brice Winslow inside. His manly good looks were enough to take Abigail’s breath away, but it was the surprise of his abrupt entrance that caught the air within her lungs. He charged to the middle of the room and was angrier than a bag full of snakes.

  “Where the hell is Abigail?” he demanded, and he glowered down at Thomas. Abigail stepped protectively behind the settee. Brice’s hands rested on his hips and frustration etched deep within his brow. Thomas cleared his throat and walked toward Brice. Abigail thought her brother was a fool if not frightened of the massive man who loomed threateningly over him, yet she watched Thomas as he kept his ground and stood in front of Brice, unafraid.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Abigail countered. She feared that if she didn’t intervene, her brother may entice the already irritated Brice Winslow into a physical altercation.

  “He owes me a bride, and yet again another day has passed and she hasn’t arrived. I just came from the station and she’s not on today’s stage either, nor has she come by way of rail. Have you not yet informed her that I’m willing to marry her?”

  “Willing?” Abigail repeated, annoyed.

  Brice was almighty mad and Abigail rounded the settee and stood in front of him. She placed a consolatory hand upon his shoulder and forced a smile up at him. Abigail didn’t expect her mouth to go suddenly dry or the lump that formed in her throat by the feel of his muscular frame beneath his frock coat. And she certainly didn’t expect the chill that coursed through her body by her slightest touch upon him. Yet what astounded Abigail the most was when Brice Winslow returned her smile. It showed interest and desire when he looked into her eyes. But that didn’t remain long.

  “Perhaps Abigail isn’t as eager to make her way down the aisle with you, as you are with her. Have you considered that, Mister Winslow?”

  Brice looked as if she slapped him. Abigail supposed he indeed did not consider that a possibility. She also concluded that Brice Winslow lost any inkling of fancies for her when his stare turned cold. His eyes shadowed beneath his top hat and his face reddened with anger.

  “As you do not know Abigail, I’m not rightly sure how this pertains to you, ma’am,” he heatedly countered.

  “Actually, Mister Winslow, I know Abigail a great much better than you.”

  Brice eyed her with suspicion. “As you are new to this town, ma’am, I’m rightly curious to know how that could be.”

  “Because I am Ab—”

  “—Abilene. Because she is my cousin, Abilene Large,” Thomas quickly interrupted.

  Abigail looked at her brother inquisitively but then an ornery smile reached her lips. “Yes, I’m Abilene, and being familiar with my cousin rightly well, I know she’d be almighty upset over what is taking place in this town.”

  “And have you spoken to her?” Brice asked eagerly. “Is she on her way back to Charlotte?”

  Abigail looked at Thomas but he wasn’t any help. He only shrugged and added an encouraged nod forward for her to continue her unprepared cock-and-bull story. “Yes,” she finally replied. “She’ll be returning within the week or shortly thereafter.”

  “Then we shall wait until then. You will hear for yourself that she’ll eagerly accept me as her husband,” he boasted. By his cavalier tone, he clearly believed that she’d not refuse him. He broadened his arrogant smile. “I think you’ll be quite surprised to learn how rightly wrong you are in the matters of the heart where Abigail Large is concerned.”

  The temptation to reveal she was Abigail nearly toppled her into a confession. Abigail walked to the door and leaned against it, and strongly demonstrated that it was time for him to take his leave when she pitched and positioned her arm forward toward the hall. “Well, Mister Brice Winslow, we shall see in the week to come. As I have an exceptional insight in the matters of the heart, as well as that of my dear cousin Abigail, I shall have the cook prepare humble pie, as I’m sure you’ll be in need of a very large slice.”

  Brice scowled at her. “Until then,” he said tersely and tipped his hat and strode out the door.

  Abigail slammed it shut behind him.

  “Truly,” she nearly growled. “Whatever did I see in that man?”

  “Abigail,” Thomas said excitedly. “Do you see what a great opportunity you have here?”

  “No, Thomas, I can’t say I do,” she replied.

  “Did you not notice how Mister Winslow looked at you?”

  “As if I killed his favorite mutt?”

  “No,” he said. “He was clearly attracted to you, and whether you’ll declare it aloud or not, you are equally interested him.”

  “Surely, he was not; and most certainly I am not,” she said, appalled.

  “Surely, he was,” he countered, “And most definitely you are,’ he smiled. “Abigail, if you can persuade Brice to fall in love with you as Abilene, it’d prove his utter true love for you as he would believe that he is forfeiting Abigail’s dowry.”

  Abigail’s smile q
uickly advanced into a chuckle. “Oh, Thomas, you are wicked. Surely that would be very unfair to do, even to Brice Winslow. Although, he would most definitely deserve it,” she added.

  “It’s my fault and I am truly sorry, Abigail, but the fact remains that from here out you’ll never know who justly loves you unless we make sport of this situation. You’ll never be able to discern if a man loves you or that of your dowry.”

  “That is a rightly smart opinion to consider, Thomas.”

  “Do you recall, sister, when that circus came to town about ten years ago?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. “How could I ever forget? The fat lady and I looked so similar that I didn’t think I’d ever hear the end of the bantering.” Sadness overwhelmed her until the anger within her sufficiently rose. “Indeed, the townspeople were at their cruelest for many, many months thereafter. What horrible creature they all are.”

  “Then let’s take our revenge, my dearest sister,” he said, and smiled wide. “We will locate and hire that woman—Tiny Tess, I recall— and see if she’s willing to portray herself as Abigail Large. We’ll have her show an incredible fancy toward whatever gentleman is to your liking—whether it is Brice or another—and then we’ll see if Abilene can lure him away from her dowry.”

  “Not to offend you, Thomas, but you have always been dull as ditch water,” she said. “You’ve always and only have been concerned with business, especially since the Yankees won the war. I am truly shocked by your suggestion. What has come over you?”

  “Yes, I have, but I feel it’s time for me to seek some amusement, and perhaps get a little bit back from those damn carpetbaggers in the progress. In a matter of days, Mecklenburg County has become a spectacle by the crowds assembling from every neighboring county to seek marriage for the single purpose of your dowry. Do you not see that as despicable? I say these people have it coming!”

  “Do you truly think we can pull this off?”

  “I most definitely do.”