Chapter 15: Triumph

Abigail took one minute. One full minute to herself to breathe properly. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. She did this several times over until she felt she had complete mastery over herself.

She wasn’t even angry. She had expected some more treachery. Maybe not this soon, and maybe not like this, but more treachery she had been expecting. And here it was. The very next day. So Abigail was not even really angry.

But Abigail was worried. Because this was a very real problem that needed to be solved.

Abigail glanced at the dresses. She had absolutely no dresses in her closet that she could choose. And she had no access to her money that her father had given her just yet. All she had to choose from were the dresses that Olivia had given her.

And she absolutely could not miss this party. Not after her father had been so kind and generous to her yesterday. Not after they had finally gotten on the right footing with each other. She could not afford to take a single step back in their relationship now.

So Abigail drew one more, deep breath.

And then she glanced at the dresses. Maybe Olivia had sent her the solution, along with the problem?

Abigail circled the dresses, one more time, and then glanced to her landline. Maybe Olivia had given her more than one solution, too.

Abigail dialed the first number that appeared on her phone. Housekeeping answered.

“Yes, I need three ladies in here right now,” Abigail said on the phone. “And bring three from laundry as well,” Abigail thought, and then, for good measure, added on, “And have three ladies from the kitchen bring me up a whole teapot of lavender tea, along with ten teacups.”

The staff was so used to Charlotte and Olivia’s insane demands that the person on the other end of the phone didn’t even question it. Abigail was sure she heard the woman breathe a sigh of relief that that was all Abigail requested.

Within a minute, Abigail had nine women standing inside her bedroom, lined up like soldiers. Abigail sent one of them in search of a sewing machine, which she by some miracle, found.

And in less than five minutes since she had gotten Olivia’s note, Abigail had a plan.

She asked the women to each choose a dress they felt was the most suitable in color and style for the party.

Two of them actually cringed, and after five women had chosen, the other four declared that nothing else was even suitable as rags.

Abigail went with their opinion, after asking each one of them their names, assigned each one of them a portion of her plan.

She chose one of the five dresses and stripped it away entirely to only the slip underneath it. A pale pink covered with frills even on the under slip. Two women pared the gown down to only the pink slip.

That would make her lining.

While they worked, Abigail watched as another three women worked on removing everything but the very outer layer of another one of the gowns. They removed every stitch on the gown that was possible to remove without it actually falling apart. Every bead was taken off, every flower undone.

That would make her overdress cloak.

And the last three women, along with Abigail herself, worked on combining the last three dresses into one, unique, beautiful piece. They used the black underskirt and bodice of one gown, along with the emerald stitching that looked so garish against the yellow dress, and transferred it to the black, where it stood out magnificently. They then pulled all of the silver beading work off the bright pink dress and transferred it to the black one, weaving between the dark emerald stitching.

That would be her gown.

The entire process, with all of the women working diligently, took one hour to complete. Abigail helped mostly with the dress, but she jumped in wherever the lining and the shroud needed help.

She also played the part of tea girl, and served each of the ladies from the pot of lavender tea. They all took turns around the sewing machine, stitching by hand where they could. And as they worked, they talked.

They talked to each other, and they talked to Abigail filling her in on the happenings in the rest of the mansion, and telling her about her sister and stepmother.

And an hour later, Abigail had found herself surrounded by nine beautiful and kind women and a dress fit for a party.

Once it was done, all nine women helped her slip into her brand-new dress, one woman even having dipped inside her closet, and brought her a pair of onyx earrings and a deep emerald necklace. Someone else brought her shoes, and within minutes, her entire look was put together.

Abigail promised each lady she would repay them for their help today, and each simply wished her a happy evening.

Thinking quickly, Abigail grabbed one last thing off her pedestal, and slipped it inside her purse. Then, with a call to the driver, she was off.

She arrived at the party, and was quickly whisked by her driver and attendant to the entrance to the room. She had to ascend a flight of stairs, where she was told to wait at the closed doors that would open grandly to a staircase that she would then descend into the floor.

She was late. Everyone was already there. But she wasn’t too late to be announced on entry.

Abigail drew a deep breath as she heard her name being called out, the grand doors opened, and she descended down the stairs gracefully. The entire ballroom looking up to her.

Her dress was, Abigail decided, a little fancier than what was required for the party. But she didn’t stick out. It blended in nicely with her descent and flowed wonderfully outward as she stepped. She slipped her hands into the pockets on the side, and saw more than a few women stare at her in envy.

A dress with pockets would do that, Abigail smiled to herself.

She had been nervous, during the drive to the ballroom and as they announced her name. But two things caused Abigail’s butterflies to disappear immediately.

The first, was the knowledge of how nosy every single person here was. They clearly wanted to see for themselves who exactly Adam Woodtriche’s illegitimate and long-lost daughter was.

And the second, was Mark.

Abigail locked eyes with Mark almost at the other end of the ballroom, and she watched him for her entire descent. Everyone else faded away. Her steps became easier, her breath flowed simpler, and she found herself almost walking straight to him.

When she reached the last step, however, she lost sight of Mark, having disappeared into the crowd.

Abigail searched for him, standing on her tip toes, as she tried to see him above the crowd.

The people were still staring at her surreptitiously, and Abigail tried her best to ignore them. They had been speaking about her before they’d even seen her, no doubt, and they would continue to speak about her for a while still. Until the next scandal rocked their world, at least.

Abigail glanced over to her sister; Olivia was turning positively red, contrasting not at all well with her red dress. She looked not unlike a tomato in that state.

And something told Abigail that everyone would have a new scandal to talk about soon enough. She touched her emerald necklace for good luck, as she watched her sister stalk over to her.

Abigail tried to get to Olivia first, since Olivia was against one of the walls, and Abigail was standing almost in the middle of the room, and this whole interaction would be better restricted to the shadowy corners. But Olivia made it over to her first.

How she managed to move so fast on such thin heels, Abigail truly did not know. But her sister looked like a deer marching towards her, and she drew eyes from every person she passed.

Abigail drew a deep breath as Olivia approached her. “Dearest sister,” Abigail began, sweetly.

Then she dropped the façade, Olivia right in her face, close enough for her to whisper to.

“You need therapy!” Abigail hissed at Olivia. “But thank you so much for the dress. It really did give the chance to show off my best qualities. Like not being a petty little bitch at a very important company party.”

“How dare you!” Olivia screamed suddenly, making everyone within earshot turn around to her. “You stole my dress!”

Abigail stood back in absolute alarm. Charlotte, she had known was always delusional, but never had she thought that Olivia was as delusional as her mother.

She had been wrong, it seemed.

One by one, everyone in the party turned to face them, as Olivia’s voice rose in both volume and pitch.

“You stole my dresses!” Olivia shrieked again.