Chapter 8: Fish out of Water

After breakfast, Abigail went straight back to her room, with the help of directions from some servants along the way.

And staring at her closet, she decided that Olivia was right about that. She did have to wear some of the clothes her father had gotten for her, she didn't want him to think she was ungrateful or petty.

And in any case, she hadn't showered yet today, so she figured she would do that, and then change into some clothes from her closet.

So pushing herself off her bed, Abigail headed into the closet.

It was a bit of a daunting task. There was just so much of everything, and everything looked amazing. She browsed through the clothing, there were jeans, pants of every material and style, skirts and sweaters. More t-shirts than all of the clothes she had at home by her mother.

Eventually, Abigail settled on black jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt and a sweater to pull over. She went hesitatingly to the underwear drawer, sure she wouldn't find something that would fit her, but everything was in her size, too. So she grabbed a pair of underwear, a bra and a pair of socks, too.

Abigail came out of the closet, carrying the clothes she had carefully selected, and found two servants in her room, waiting.

"Uhm," Abigail cleared her throat. "Can I help you?"

"We're here to help you, Ma'am, your sister sent us. She said you might need help with the bathroom and dressing." One of the servant girls answered.

And Abigail briefly wondered how many people worked here at this house, because she had never seen any servant more than once before.

"I think I'll be okay," Abigail started to say, unsure of why her sister would even send servants to help her in the bathroom in the first place. Sure she could bathe alone.

"Ma'am, I really must insist," the same woman spoke. "The shower is a bit complicated, and you could burn yourself if you press the wrong things."

She then nodded at the other servant, who went into the bathroom, and Abigail could hear the water starting to run.

"Oh, uhm," Abigail tried to think of a way to protest but was ushered into the bathroom by the other servant.

Once Abigail saw the bathroom, she thought they might have a point. She had never seen a shower – or toilet, for that matter – with so many buttons on it.

The shower seemed to be running fine though.

The one servant took the clothing Abigail was carrying, and placed it in the wicker cupboard in the bathroom, she then placed a fresh towel in the large shower cubicle – and, Abigail noted, it was big enough to hold a car – and then she came over to Abby.

And started to pull on her clothing.

"Woah," Abigail exclaimed, jumping slightly back. "Look, thank you, both of you, for all the help so far, but I really think I can take it from here."

"Ma'am," the one started to say.

But Abigail didn't give her a chance to finish that.

"Please, I insist," Abigail said firmly. "I would like my privacy now, thank you."

The two ladies both pursed their lips, but both left and said nothing further.

Abigail closed the door, undressed, and stepped into the shower. The water was absolutely deliciously warm and calm, falling over her.

This was all so much to get used to so quickly. She had gone from cold shower bursts or small trickles of warmth to all of this luxury in just a few moments. And Abigail just wasn't sure how she was supposed to deal with all of this change.

And what made everything worse was that her mother was still stuck back home, with the terrible showers, and cold apartment and barely enough food to keep her standing upright. And here she had just had a feast that would have lasted them a full week back home, and they would have called themselves extravagant for it.

It was just all so much.

So Abigail finally let go of all the emotion she'd been holding in, tears spilling down her face as the water poured over her.

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When Abigail stepped back into the bedroom, she found everything cleaned already. She hadn't even heard them while she was in the shower, and it unsettled her a little, to think they would be so quiet and she wouldn't even know.

Her dirty clothes had been taken away, along with her entire duffel bag, probably to be deep cleaned.

Abigail felt a little intruded on, but it wasn't the end of everything, she didn't have anything personal in there. Still though, she felt she should at least have some say in what happened in her own bedroom.

She felt a little better after her cry in the shower, but stepping back into her perfectly cleaned room just made her realize everything all from the beginning again.

Looking for her phone, Abigail decided to send her mother a quick text. She didn't want her to worry, but she wanted to keep in contact, and just to remind her mother that she was heeding her advice.

Abigail thought now more than ever, that her mother's advice had been well-placed.

And without her father to talk to, she was wondering if this was worth it, to stay here, if she just wasn't going to see him that much.

Abigail decided that being outside would be infinitely better than being stuck in the house, however large, with Charlotte. Olivia would have gone out by now already, though she had promised to return later. So Abigail headed for the closest door leading to the gardens that she could find, dodging servants along the way.

She reached the outside with fresh air very quickly, and almost immediately her mood brightened. She decided to go looking for the maze, but somehow wound up at the same place she had found herself lost yesterday.

This time at least, she knew her way back, and she knew to be looking where she stepped.

She briefly wondered if this was even part of her father's land, given how unkempt it was, but then she remembered the gardener had been here. He was probably trying to plan how best he would use this area.

Just as she was thinking of him, her foot knocked against the same gardening equipment from yesterday, but she was able to stop herself from falling over them again.

"Good for you," she heard Mark's voice to the side of her. "You do learn at least."

Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all.

"I do," Abigail sniffed, then turned to see Mark bending down by one of the larger boulders, gardening gloves covering his hands.

He was dressed in a jeans that looked well-worn through, and skin-tight white t-shirt. He definitely had the build of someone who lifted heavy things for a living.

"What are you doing?" Abigail asked, walking over to the rock.

"Trying to decipher the make up of this rock," Mark told her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then I'll know what tools I'll need to remove them, and how long that would take."

"Oh," Abigail said, he sounded more like a landscaper than a gardener. At the end of it though, it all came to the same thing.

He worked in the grounds, making the place look better.

Even though he wasn't the best of tempered servants that worked for her father, he was at least willing to speak to her like she was a living person, so Abigail was a bit hesitant to simply leave.

She wondered if he knew where the maze was, though, and if he would be able to show her to it. Then again, she didn't want to disturb him in his work and get him into trouble.

"And what have you decided about the rock?" Abigail asked.

"Can't say for sure," Mark said, standing upright and dusting his hands. "I need to get some equipment and do it properly."

And he was tall, Abigail noticed. Tall enough to pick her up easily. And she would normally be afraid, being alone with a strange man she didn't know, but this was her father's property, after all. And her new home now, so she supposed she was safe.

"This must be so much easier for you," Abigail murmured.

"What must be?" Mark asked, frowning.

"You get to be around all this, without having any of the consequences of living here." Abigail said again, sighing. "It must be nice to just be a simple gardener."

"You know what," Mark said again. "I would correct you, but I really can't be bothered by what a spoiled little daughter of a rich billionaire thinks of me. I'm not going to re-evaluate my entire life choices based on the opinion of someone who has never worked a day in her life. Other than ordering her servants around."