Abigail sat down on the settee and thought hard and long about the people of Mecklenburg County. She could barely recall a single act of kindness among any of them, and worse, their cruelty had no limitations. It never helped matters that she possessed the surname of Large. She didn’t want to recall all the manner of yarns she had endured by that cruel twist of fate. As she pondered on the contradictory behavior of the townspeople from that time to her present, her ire grew into hellfire furious. “I think you may be right,” she said absently. Then with more conviction she rose and gave him a terse nod. “No, you are right, Thomas. Let’s teach this town a lesson they’ll not soon forget.”
CHAPTER THREE
Robert E. Lee’s visit through Charlotte in 1870 paled in comparison to the ballyhoo that arose by Tiny Tess’s debut as Abigail Large. She arrived on the rail from Wilmington to Charlotte. As she was unable to fit in the train’s passenger cabin, Thomas had arranged that a private boxcar be supplied with furniture and luxuries and it accommodated her outsized figure nicely.
People lingered on and around the tracks for nearly a mile, and they peered down the railway in anticipation of the locomotive’s three o’clock arrival. The smoke off its engines puffed out large white clouds into the distant sky and silently announced it was soon to be there. When it neared the station, the engineer released the train’s steam trumpet and it blew out its six-chime warning. The train’s brakes squealed in protest as it slowed into the station. Men, women, and children whom gathered from afar, as well as within their community, eagerly waited for Abigail Large to make her departure from the train.
With Tess’s arrival came fireworks, barbecues, musical bands, street merchants, and more possible suitors than any one woman rightly deserved. The moment the train stopped at the station, the musicians sang out their welcoming song of Buffalo Gals, which they appropriately altered to Charlotte, Abigail’s hometown.
As I was walking down the street
Down the street, down the street,
A pretty gal I chance to meet
Under the silvery moon.
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight?
Come out tonight, Come out tonight?
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight,
And dance by the light of the moon.
I asked her if she'd stop and talk,
Stop and talk, Stop and talk,
Her feet covered up the whole sidewalk,
She was fair to view.
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight?
Come out tonight, Come out tonight?
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight,
And dance by the light of the moon.
I asked her if she'd be my wife,
Be my wife, be my wife
Then I'd be happy all my life,
If she'd marry me.
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight?
Come out tonight, Come out tonight?
Charlotte gals, won't you come out tonight,
And dance by the light of the moon.
“Oh, Thomas,” Abigail whispered. “This is an unseemly thing to do to poor Tess. Having her arrive into this maddening town is as calamitous as having her march into Hell’s fire.”
“She’s an entertainer by trade, Abilene,” he prompted, reminding her of the importance that she kept up appearances with her new name. “I went to Wilmington and spoke to her last week and she is wholly in support of our cause. In fact, she was rather tickled and eager to participate.”
From the corner of her eye, Abigail glanced at Brice Winslow where he was leaning against the station’s wall. She looked over her shoulder to improve her view and was embarrassed that he was already looking at her. He nodded and tipped his hat and she hastily turned back around.
“I see Mister Winslow is eagerly awaiting my arrival,” she gritted out quietly between her teeth.
Thomas looked toward Brice, smiled, and waved him over to join them. Abigail nudged him in the ribs. “What are you doing?”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious at seeing his reaction when he comes face to face with Tess? She’ll surely make fun sport of him. I don’t know about you, dear sister, but I want a front seat to that show.”
“Oh, Thomas,” Abigail snickered. She lightly smacked his arm with her lace fan. “Truly, of late, I believe the devil has taken over all your senses.”
“Good day, “Brice offered after he pushed his way through the crowd to meet them. Abigail noticed that he was back in his formal wear for the event, unlike his daily wear she’d seen him in town the previous week wearing that consisted of basic wool trousers and a plaid cotton shirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she secretly perused him and reluctantly acknowledged that he looked quite dapper. He had an aroma of cinnamon and spice about his person and she wondered if it was something he’d ingested or from something that he wore. Either way, it was alluring.
“So, Mister Winslow, as the week’s past has brought a multitude of new gentlemen into your town, are you beginning to fret whether Abigail will choose you?”
He looked lazily down with his bright green eyes and gazed into hers. Abigail had a feeling of great discomfort by his closeness and inwardly cursed when the crowd prevented her further distance away from him. He finally smiled and slowly shook his head, completely confident that he’d be the one that she’d choose.
“Well, Mister Winslow, every garden in the county has been plucked bare of floras, and the all the town’s stores have sold their supplies of chocolates and candies, so what will be your plan of attack to gain Miss Abigail’s heart? “
“Well,” he drawled out, “I don’t intend to sound like I’m going to war with her as you suggest, Miss Abilene, but rather woo her.” He glanced at the crowd as if to weigh their numbers. “And from the looks of how many Blue Bellies and Darkies are present, I suspect the numbers in competition would narrow considerably, as I’m sure our Abigail wouldn’t shock polite society by taking them into consideration.”
The boxcar door slid open and the crowd turned toward the train. They all stood deathly still and quiet, and Brice, Abigail, and Thomas turned to watch. Stepping toward the doorway, Tiny Tess appeared in a bright pink gown with pagoda sleeves and a lace neckline that looked uncomfortable around her thick neck. Although her gown was no longer fashionable, it suited her rightly well. The woman glanced over all the people in the crowd and then placed her hands aside her wide hips. A smile brightened her face and she shouted out into the crowd in a loud, robust voice, “I’m Abigail Large and I am here to get myself a husband!”
The crowd whirled with excitement. Guns were shot into the air and the men in the crowd whistled and cheered. She raised her hands and those in front of her fell into silence, and within a couple minutes the rest of the throng that stood further away followed suit and quieted as well.
“Word has reached my ears that there’s a certain gentleman that I once knew and he has...Well, won me,” she said, and her face exaggerated a very big frown. The crowd began to hiss and boo out their disappointment. “The question I ponder is, should I honor my brother by his choice or seek out a man of my own choosing?” She then raised her plump finger to her head and repeatedly tapped, pretending to be thinking.
The crowd was sent into an uproar by her question. Shouts urged her to give them all an equal chance. Abigail glanced at Brice and watched as he stared at Tiny Tess. She detected more than a hint of worry upon his brow and a peculiar color of green that shaded his pallor. “Are you still feeling as confident now, Mister Winslow?” she asked and followed it with a chuckle.
He glared at her.
“I think perhaps we should have Mister Brice Winslow approach,” Tiny Tess called out. “It’s been many years since I’ve seen him and perhaps he’s now no longer worthy of my heart.” True to her performance training, she put her hand above her eyes and peered out into the crowd from one side to the other. “Mister Brice Winslow?” she shouted out. “Are you out the
re?”
The crowd in front of Brice looked back at him and resentfully stared but moved aside as Brice walked forward. They opened up for him much to the fashion of Moses parting the sea. He looked back at Abigail, closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and continued toward the woman.
“Good luck, Mister Winslow,” Abigail called out to him and smothered a giggle within her white gloved hand. She watched him until he was beneath the train’s doorway where the Abigail imposter stood.
“And there he is,” Tiny Tess called out to her audience. “Why, he’s as pretty, if not more so than I remember!”
Brice’s blush came faster than the crowd’s laughter and jeering. Yet he stood there, forced a smile toward the crowd, and returned his gaze to look upon her.
“Good day, Abigail,” he said and tipped his hat to her. “It’s good to see you looking so well.”
“Since you have won me in my brother’s game of cards, I shall offer you a game of my very own in return,” she said. She looked at the multitude of people and spoke aloud stating, “If Mister Brice Winslow wins my game, the contest for my hand shall be over and I’ll marry this man,” she said and pointed down at Brice. “But if he loses my game, then it’s fair game for all!” Whoops and hollers began again and Tiny Tess gave a terse nod. “Are you up to the challenge, Mister Winslow?”
Abigail smiled when Brice, although looking almighty uncomfortable by the attention, nodded his head to Tess. “I think I’m going to rather enjoy this show,” Abigail said to Thomas.
Again, Tess looked at the crowd and shouted. “And what game might you all suggests we play to test his merit?” Ideas came from the left of her and they hailed from her right; everything from playing cards to racing horses, and a few inappropriate suggestions in-between.
“Good ole arm wrestling works well in these parts,” a man hollered, and he then smiled at her with fewer teeth than he’d been born. When the man noticed that he gained Tess’s attention he blew her a kiss and waved.
“Arm wrestling?” She slapped her hand across her lap and heartily laughed through full, rounded lips. “I believe our poor Mister Winslow would be at a great disadvantage.”
Abigail pushed and shoved her way through the people until she stood next to Brice. She raised a challenging brow to hm. “What about a game of wits, cousin?” Abigail suggested very loudly so all could hear.
“My fair and lovely cousin Abilene,” Tess called out. “I do believe you may be onto something.” Tiny Tess looked at Abigail and winked hard.
“Not but a week ago, this fine gentleman insisted that he knew what truly lies within your dear sweet heart.” Abigail turned, looked at Brice and smiled like a Cheshire cat. “I say his familiarity of it should be assessed.”
“I do believe that’s a splendid idea,” Tiny Tess called out. “As you know me so well, cousin, what question shall we ask of our Mister Winslow?”
“I think we shall keep it fairly simple so Mister Winslow has a fair chance to win your dow—why, your heart.” She looked up at Brice and stared at him for a few moments as she gathered her thoughts. “I shall make it simple indeed, Mister Winslow, as the answers are limited for even a guess.”
“Please state the question, Miss Abilene, “Brice said, seemingly bored with the game that Abigail was rightly sure he knew could only humiliate him in the end.
“What is my cousin’s favorite blossom?”
Brice smiled wide and his relief was exceedingly obvious when his face relaxed.
“That is too easy, Miss Abilene, as her father had rose gardens planted in her honor from north to south as well as east and west upon their lawns, I am rightly sure that is the answer you seek.”
“Then you would be greatly mistaken, Mister Winslow. As the answer is the dandelion.”
The crowd applauded and cheered loudly at his loss.
“You play a game of trickery,” he accused, and although he smiled, the humor of it didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Surely I do not,” she said, and Abigail looked up at Tiny Tess. “Cousin, please assure Mister Winslow that the dandelion is truly his hopeful intended’s favorite among all floras.”
“As my cousin knows me as well as myself, she would be most definitely correct.”
“Would you like to know why my cousin prefers the dandelion above all others?” she asked Brice, as well as the people who stood around the train. People nodded their heads and urged her to finish as their curiosities piqued. She looked at Brice and he eyed her warily.
“As you have gathered the attention of all, Miss Abilene, please continue,” Brice said.
“My cousin was much to the likes of a dandelion when she once lived in this town,” she said to Brice, and then Abigail looked at all the people to whom she had caught their attention, particular those she had known many years ago. “As like Miss Abigail Large, the dandelion’s beauty and inner worth is overlooked. It’s taken for granted and ignored and left within the fields to dry and wither. Eventually, sir, its seeds are blown away and lost within the wind and completely forgotten.”
Tiny Tess looked down at Abigail with saddened eyes. A tear dropped down her cheek and she quickly swiped it away. “I couldn’t have stated it better, cousin.”
The people in the crowd that were raised in Mecklenburg County and knew Abigail looked down and nervously shuffled their feet. Abigail looked around and easily recalled each mean-spirited word and action amongst them all.
“I shall now step down and turn the attention back to you, dear Abigail,” she said, and curtsied to Tiny Tess.
Tiny Tess perked up, looked into the crowd and bellowed out, “As Mister Winslow was unable to win my hand by game of wits, then I declare to you, my lovely gentlemen, let the courting begin!” she thundered out.
Smiles, whoops and hollers returned to the crowd, and Abigail turned and looked at Brice. He stared at her with a peculiar smile that made her feel awkward and shy.
“It would appear, sir, you must work as hard for Abigail’s heart as the rest of the gentlemen who’ve come out here today.”
“As long as you are around, Miss Abilene, I do believe I’ll need to work a mite bit harder than the others.” He tipped his hat toward her, turned around, and pressed his way through the men who stood in his path until he was no longer within her sight.
“Dear, sister,” Thomas said as he approached. “It would appear that you’ve upset Mister Winslow.”
“Indeed, I believe that to be true as well.” Abigail frowned and looked guiltily at Thomas. “I do feel shameful that I’ve placed so much burden on him when he’s already fretting over losing his plantation. It seems almighty wrong.”
“His plantation is safe,” Thomas assured.
“And how are you so sure?”
“Unaware to him, I own the note.”
CHAPTER FOUR
By noon the next day, every field, lawn, garden, and outhouse border was picked bare of its dandelions in Mecklenburg County. Unbeknownst to Abigail, Thomas had invited Mister Brice Winslow the previous day for supper, and Abigail planned to wait on the porch until his arrival. It was a challenging undertaking. Although their porch extended the entire stretch of their home from east to west, which was particularly lengthy, there wasn’t a place to stand, let alone sit. The Large’s front porch was littered knee high in bright yellow and orange petals.
“I declare, Abigail,” Thomas exclaimed.
He came from behind her as she stood at the outside door, faintly amused that she’d chosen her yellow day dress to wear. Thomas peaked around her and viewed the dandelions.
“You have these men running around in frenzy just to be accommodating.”
“I am sure there are more than a few in Charlotte who are exceedingly happy to see the weeds removed from their gardens and fields.”
They walked into the sitting room and Tiny Tess was already seated and waiting their arrival. Abigail admired Tess’s beautiful silk and lace violet day dress. She couldn’t recall ever looking
as pretty when she wore items so large. She envied her for that. The ringlets in Tess’s hair were curled to near perfection and the locks drawn away from her face with a butterfly hairpin.
“You must remember, Abigail, when Mister Winslow arrives you cannot allow your dander to be raised and ruin our ruse. You are Abilene Large, our dear cousin from the North. Do not forget that,” Thomas warned.
“Do you think poor Mister Winslow can handle another day of two Abigails?” Tiny Tess laughed. “After yesterday, I’d tend to believe that he would refuse an invitation.”
“As long as there’s a coin to be had, I doubt there will be anyone willing to turn tail,” Abigail added, irritated.
When their butler John brought Mister Brice Winslow to the sitting room, no one was overly surprised that he had flowers in tow. But they didn’t expect him to be holding a cactus that had a single yellow flower attached to its spiky stem. Although a peculiar gift, Abigail had to admit that the vase that incased the plant was the most beautiful French Opaline vase she’d ever seen.
“This, Miss Abilene, is for you,” Brice announced after he greeted them with pleasantries. He looked down into her eyes and a wry smile curved upon his lips as he handed Abigail the offering. “I thought it was most appropriate since something so prickly has within itself to produce such a lovely flower. Perhaps one day, Miss Abilene, the flower within you may sprout as well and we’ll not only need to endure your spines.”
Abigail accepted the gift with raised brows. After his speech, she refused to offer him her appreciation for the thought he had placed into the gift.
Brice turned to Tiny Tess and handed her a package decorated prettily with a bright red ribbon. “As for you, Miss Abigail, I thought this would suit you quite nicely, as it’ll look rather fetching with your eyes.”
Abigail glared at Brice when Tiny Tess opened her present and she discovered a blue laced shoulder shawl inside. Indeed, it was not only a striking garment but exceedingly expensive.
“It’s beautiful, Brice,” she exclaimed with excitement. “Thank you.” Tess wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. She patted her hand onto the seat of the satin Burch sofa where she sat. “Come and sit beside me,” she offered.
Abigail's Secret (A Whimsical Select Romance Novella) Page 3
