Genre: Historical Romance
She could see her father's carriage though she could not see him. His presence overwhelmed her and Abigail had the greatest urge to flee, but she restrained herself knowing it was safer in this house with the protection of both Mrs. Fisher and Jacob than she would be on the streets. Abigail heard, "Where is she? Where is my daughter? You cannot keep her from me."
"Sir, we really must not disturb the household. Lower your voice. I cannot and will not allow admittance at this time. Good day, sir." Abigail heard the words between her father and the butler, Thomas and the loud clang as the door shut presumably in her father's face.
Abigail allowed out a breath of relief that she didn't know she had been holding in an audible sigh. Her father turned his head in her direction and mouthed, "I will get you." She turned back into the room as waves of nausea hit her. Abigail raised her hand to rub the knot of tension in the back of her neck. The urge to flee grew even greater. She knew nothing else to do but to turn to Mrs. Fisher for help.
She went down to the sitting room where she found Mrs. Fisher working on a painting on a standing easel.
"Don't fret, child. We shall find a way." Mrs. Fisher said without ever turning her head in Abigail's direction. She was surely the most intuitive woman that Abigail had ever had the pleasure to meet.
"I cannot go back there. He will surely kill me."