"The Introduction"

~Chapter One~

"I don't care what they say Elizabeth, I will not marry such an odious man. I will not be enslaved in such a manner to such a pig."
Abigail began to fan herself faster, not from heat, but from the heat inside. The anger, spilling over at such an absurdity, a mockery of the word marriage.
"He's fat, ugly, bald, and he makes strange noises when he eats. Not to mention he's as old as my grandfather."
"I'm sure your parents had a good reason from arranging this marriage." spoke Elizabeth. She sat quiet, still, more from her nature than the blistering heat that surrounded them. "He is after all a retired General. That is a wonderful title to have as a young wife, and he is very wealthy. You can have any thing your heart desired."
"My heart desires love, Elizabeth, not an old man who is so disgusting I wouldn't be able to look at him, much less kiss him on our wedding day."
She turned to Elizabeth, lowered her voice, and said in a whisper, "Do you think he would want children?"
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Do you want an answer? I thought you weren't going to marry him anyway."
Abigail snorted and began to fan herself again. "I'm not."
"What are you going to do about it?" Elizabeth said with contempt. "Your parents will make you and you know it."
Abigail stared out onto the garden. They would make her. She had to do something. Death was perferable than marriage to that old oaf. But what could she do?

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"Abigail!"
The shrill voice echoing through the house grated on Abigail's nerves.
Why did Aunt Lavinia's voice have to be so high. It was like listening to a train whistle with a headache.
"In the garden, Aunt Lavinia!" She shouted into the open door.
What a bother.
Lavinia Pines was a normal maidenly aunt. She read a lot, played many games of cards, and talked endlessly of proper manners. As it went, she was a good aunt. At least she didn't lecture. But that voice. Enough to drive you mad.
"I hope you are ready for dinner Abigail," she said with great huffing and puffing. She was a tad out of shape. Any form of exercise tired her. "The General is coming to dinner tonight. He is bringing some guests with him. Isn't that is exciting!"
Abigail cringed. To sit through a meal with that man was like the Chinese torture of water. A drip. That was what he was like. A big annoying drip.
"I suppose you are nervous. I remember being a school girl with suitors at my beck and call."
Abigail couldn't imagine Aunt Lavinia as a schoolgirl.
"I had many a suitor in my young days. Until I met Alfred." Her eyes began to get misty. She raised a clean, white hanky to her lips.
Abigail patted her hand with loving gentleness. "It's alright Aunt. Come have some tea. Yes, I suppose you're right. I am nervous." She was nervous about keeping her mouth shut. That was a failing of Abigail's. She was never able to keep her mouth shut.
"Oh, dear Abigail. Everything will be fine. The General is such a wonderful man."
"So everyone keeps telling me." said Abigail through clenched teeth.
"Come dear," Lavinia said rising from her chair and heading for the house. " I do believe that is the dinner bell."

Dinner was an ordeal to say the least.
Between the loud noises emmiting from General Prouth and the incessant whistle from Aunt Lavinia, no one had a pleasant time.
Abigail was uncertain why Mother and Father had chose the General. They seemed to find him more repulsive than she did. Father didn't say two words during the meal, and Mother 's smile became more plastered as the evening wore on.
Elizabeth kept shooting glances at Abigail, which she chose to ignore of course.

After dinner, as everyone gathered in the parlor. Elizabeth walked with Abigail.
"I'm sorry I doubted you Abigail," she said quietly, "He is the most disgusting man I have ever met. I wouldn't want to marry him either."
"Come sit with me my dear Abigail," boomed a husky male voice.
She looked at the portly man that was patting the seat beside him. If she held her breath, maybe the seat would be big enough that she didn't have to touch him.
After an hour and a half of dull conversation about a soldier's life in the King's Army, Abigail gracefully excused herself and took her leave from the stuffy room.
May God have mercy on her soul. She had to find a way to out of this marriage.

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In her ordeal, she didn't remember much about the General's guests.
There was a brother and sister. They were both dark and quiet.
She remember his eyes. Deep, deep blue.
They had appeared to be Mediterranean. She could be wrong. She really didn't notice them. Didn't even remember their names.
There was an old woman too. A very old woman. She didn't say a word all evening. That she remembered anyway.
She was lying on the divan in her room. A soft breeze from the window cooled her warm skin. The walk and the gardening had exhausted her. The heat drained more energy than exercise did.
She had to find an excuse for this evening. The General was returning. With his entourage.
"I can't bear another night with him!" she exclaimed to herself.
Throwing her self to her feet, she stomped to the wardrobe. Finding a cool evening dress, she dressed quickly for the evening meal. She would position herself by Elizabeth. She might be able to get through the evening without having a lengthy conversation with the General.
As she walked down the staircase into the foyer, the butler answered the door, allowing the entrance of the dreaded General Prouth and his guests.
She paused. Maybe they wouldn't see her.
She watched as the General arrogantly allowed the butler to remove his cape, hat, and gloves. Not only was he disgusting, he was helpless too.
She turned her eyes to the old woman that shuffled behind the General. Drab, mousy, probably his mother.
Uninterested in the woman, she looked at the brother and sister.
The sister came first.
Beautiful.
That was the word that described her. Dark, sensual beauty. You could almost smell it, it was that powerful.
The brother was a dream that breathed.
His dark handsome face was riveting. His steps were like water lapping at the shoreline. His dark curls and deep blue eyes caused Abigail to feel lightheaded.
Now this was a man she could marry. If only he were the General. That would be a different story.
They walked into the hallway that lead to the dining room without glancing at the stairway.
She quickly skirted into the parlor and peered through the adjoining door into the dining room.
They were being seated. The dinner bell was ringing.
As soon as they had all been seated, she threw open the doors and marched into the room. Selecting her own seat by Elizabeth, she sat down and began to chat amicably with her.
"Where have you been, Abigail?" stated her mother. She again had the plastered smile.
"I was in the parlor," she said, "looking at a book that I had left there last night."
Her mother's gaze pierced her own. She knew her daughter lied.
She didn't blame her.

After dinner, they again gathered in the parlor.
As usual, General Prouth insisted that Abigail sit with him on the narrow bench and discuss the ways of his long, long life.
As she politely ignored him, adding "How fascinating!" and "Oh, my!" where appropiate, she observed the brother and sister as they played a game of cards.
She still didn't know their names and she wasn't going to ask a second time.
As she watched the brooding, silent beauty of the pair she wondered if they were twins. They were extremely similar in feature.
At that moment, the General decided to ask her a question that demanded her to answer more that two words.
Turning back to him, gathering her thoughts and giving him the answer he desired, she noticed the vast difference between the man playing cards and the man sitting beside her.
She was tired of this.
"Excuse me General," she said curtly, "I need to retire. I have something important to attend to tomorrow."
With those words, she walked quickly out of the room, leaving a very flustered General and an awkward moment.

"That wasn't very polite."
She had come up behing Abigail.
She knew it was coming. Mother never spoke that way unless she was ready to give you a quiet lecture.
She sat across from Abigail, and began the embroidery that was perpetually in her hand.
Abigail was quiet. As much as she despised General Prouth, she loved her parents very much, and so, hated to disappoint them.
"I'm sorry mother. I know I was rude, but..."
She stood, crossed to the window that led to the balcony. The night was pleasant and the sky filled with stars.
As her mother sat behind her, she heard a soft cry.
Turning quickly she hurried to her mother's side.
"Is everything alright mother? Are you feeling ill? What is wrong?" she whispered hurriedly.
"I'm sorry my daughter. Your father and I have failed you."
"No, mother, No! Don't say such things!" Abigail's mind raced. It was General Prouth. Something about General Prouth.

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