Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

T he carriage ride back to the Wilkinson manor was a blur, Abigail's mind awhirl with the events of the evening. She sat in silence, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared out of the window, watching the gaslit streets of London pass outside.

She could not shake the memory of the Duke of Grouton, with his rakish charm and his enigmatic smile. Abigail's heart raced at the mere thought of him.

As the carriage rolled to a stop outside the manor, Abigail took a deep, steadying breath. She knew that Harriet would be waiting up for her, eager to hear all about her first ball and the exciting new world she had entered.

But as she made her way up the steps and into the house, she felt the weight of her emotions crashing down upon her once more, the tears she had been holding back all evening finally spilling over and streaking down her cheeks.

She found Harriet in the drawing room, curled up on the sofa with a book in her lap and a cup of tea steaming on the table beside her. At the sound of Abigail's footsteps, she looked up, her face breaking into a wide, excited smile.

"Abigail!" she exclaimed, setting her book aside and rising to her feet slowly, her hand cradling her growing stomach. "You're back! How was it? Did you have a wonderful time? Tell me everything!"

But as she drew closer, her smile faltered, her brow furrowing in concern as she took in the tears on Abigail's face and the slump of her shoulders. "Abby, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with worry. "What happened?"

Abigail shook her head, a sob rising in her throat as she collapsed into Harriet's arms, burying her face in her sister-in-law's shoulder. "Oh, Harriet," she cried, her voice muffled and thick with tears. "It was awful. Just awful."

Harriet held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words of comfort as Abigail's body shook with the force of her sobs. She didn't press for details, didn't ask any more questions, just let Abigail cry until the storm of her emotions had passed, until she was left feeling drained and hollow and utterly wrung out.

When at last Abigail's tears had subsided, Harriet guided her to the sofa, settling her down and pressing a cup of tea into her hands. "Tell me what happened, Abby," she said gently, her eyes filled with sympathy and concern. "Start from the beginning, and do not leave anything out."

And so Abigail did, the words pouring out of her in a jumbled, disjointed rush as she recounted every painful moment of the evening.

"It was so beautiful, Harriet — and I was so excited to be there, but there were these other ladies and they were just so cruel! Everything I did was wrong, from the way I laughed to the dress I wore — not to mention the fact that I danced with a man they felt was above my station."

She blushed at this memory but shook her head before Harriet could question it. "I just… they judged me so harshly, based on what? I am the sister of a duke, so why do they hate me so?"

Harriet sighed, reaching out to take Abigail's hand in her own. "Oh, Abby," she said softly, her voice filled with sympathy and understanding. "I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, that the cruelty and the judgment will fade with time. But the truth is, the ton can be a vicious, unforgiving place, especially for those who do not fit neatly into their narrow expectations."

Abigail felt a lump rising in her throat, her eyes stinging with fresh tears as she listened to Harriet's words. "But why?" she asked, her voice small and broken. "Why do they hate us so much? What have we done to deserve their scorn and their derision?"

Harriet shook her head, a sad smile playing about her lips. "It's not about us, Abby. Not really. It's about them, and their own insecurities and fears. They see us as a threat, as outsiders who do not belong in their carefully constructed world. And so they lash out, trying to push us away and keep us in our place."

She squeezed Abigail's hand, her eyes fierce with determination. "But we cannot let them win, Abby. We cannot let their cruelty and their prejudice break us. We must be strong, and true to ourselves, no matter what the cost."

Abigail nodded, a surge of gratitude and love welling up within her as she looked at her sister-in-law, at the woman who had become her closest friend and confidante. Not for the first time, she was grateful that her brother had married this woman. "Thank you, Harriet," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For being here, for listening, for understanding. I do not know what I would do without you."

Harriet smiled, pulling Abigail into a tight hug. "You never have to find out, Abby. I will always be here for you, no matter what. We're family, you and I, and nothing can change that."

They sat like that for a long while, holding each other close as the fire crackled in the grate and the shadows lengthened on the walls. And though Abigail's heart still ached with the sting of rejection and the uncertainty of what the future might hold, she felt a glimmer of hope and strength flickering to life within her, a quiet determination to face whatever challenges lay ahead with courage and grace.

At last, she pulled back from Harriet's embrace, a tentative smile playing about her lips. "There's something else I need to tell you," she said, her voice hesitant.

Harriet's brow furrowed, her eyes searching Abigail's face. "What is it, Abby? Did something else happen?"

Abigail shook her head, a blush staining her cheeks. "Not… not really, but I danced with a… a gentleman… and he... he offered to help me. To teach me the ways of the ton, to show me how to navigate this world without losing myself in the process."

She bit her lip, her heart racing as she remembered the intensity of the duke's gaze, the way his words had seemed to promise so much more than mere guidance and instruction. "He's coming to call tomorrow," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I... I want you to be there, Harriet. To chaperone, to make sure that I do not... that I do not do anything foolish."

Harriet's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing her face. But then she nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Of course, Abby. But… who is it?"

Abigail looked at her, her brow furrowed. "I will tell you," she said hesitantly. "But Harriet, you must promise not to tell Hugh."

When Harriet opened her mouth to protest, Abigail raised her hand to silence the older woman.

"I do not want to lie to him," she explained quickly. "It is just… I know my brother. He is, has always been, so protective. Just… let me tell him once I have learnt a thing or two about the ton?"

She looked at Harriet pleadingly. "Please, Harriet. You know how Hugh feels about the ton."

"Alright," Harriet said at last. "I won't tell him — but you cannot wait too long to do it, Abby. Who is it?"

Abigail hesitated, then closed her eyes. "It… it is the Duke of Grouton," she admitted at last. To Harriet's credit, she did not show her surprise. Her face remained impassive — the only signal that the news came as a shock being the slight arch of her brow.

"I see," Harriet said simply. "Well, it is rather kind of him to offer to teach you some things," she managed to get out.

Abigail felt a rush of emotion, her eyes stinging with tears as she threw her arms around Harriet once more, hugging her fiercely. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice muffled against Harriet's shoulder. "Thank you for everything."

They stayed like that for a long moment, drawing strength and comfort from each other's presence. And then, with a final squeeze of Harriet's hand, Abigail stood, a look of determination settling over her features.

"I should get some rest," she said, her voice steady and calm. "Tomorrow will be a big day, and I need to be ready for whatever it brings."

Harriet nodded, a small smile playing about her lips. "Of course, Abby. Get some sleep, and try not to worry too much. We'll face whatever comes together, you and me."

Abigail nodded, a rush of warmth and love flooding through her as she made her way towards the door.