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Name: Abigail Goodwin [Abbey]
Age: 24 [Born Winter, 1772]
Occupation: Governess

Appearance
Ramrod straight, slim and boyish, Abbey's a bit tall for a woman and that's about all she has going on. Extremely pale skin is spotted with wild freckles, bluish in the shadows, very pink in any extreme of weather. Her eyes are blue and huge in her face and where people most often focus, as her lips are too thin, her nose a little bit hooked, and her hair, a riot of deep orange red, is always pulled back into a tight braid down her spine.

Personality
Extremely bright, and more than merely well-educated -- fluent in several foreign languages, well versed at the piano and the flute, with a background in art and poetry -- Abbey knows what she needs to know to be a good governess. Add on top of that a quick wit and a sharp sense of humor, and she is rather good at her job. Her charges, three girls aged fifteen, eight and seven, find her acerbic nature amusing and delightful in turns.

On a day to day bases, she tends to keep herself closed off and away from people. She is shy, though that doesn't close her mouth among company; rather it sets her tongue going, covering up her own discomfort and self-doubt with sharp comments that draw attention onto the people around her. Social occasions make her stiff and nervous and she would much rather consort with books and music than with other people.

History
Abbey's father was a tailor. Her mother died young. This is part of why she ended up at her current household; her new employer is twice-over a widower, and all the children grew up without mothers.

The Choosing

It was a deer.

She should have been able to suss out, on some level, that it was going to be a deer. The totem had been deer-shaped, bright-eyed and warm in her hand, and Abbey had enough common sense to put two and two together. She'd imagined a heartbeat, and her heart had skipped along with it as it tumbled from the tree into her grasp.

The totem had been alive. And now it was a living creature.

It was still dawn, faint light filtering through heavy curtains, her young charges still sleeping in their beds. In the distance, she could hear the faint clink of movement, the kitchen already hours awake, the gardner at work. It would only be a matter of time before the maids came in to change her sheets, to shuffle her out. Only twenty minutes, perhaps, before she'd have to see to the children, begin with their lessons, take them around the grounds. She'd be gone for hours, and there was a fawn at the foot of her bed.

Abbey stared at it, in silence, and her wit and wisdom both failed her. She didn't have a damned clue what she was supposed to do with the creature.

But maybe the girls would. With a twist of black skirt around her ankle, Abbey fled the room. They always enjoyed an adventure.

The Family

Horace Dahlby - AKA Mr. Dahlby, or 'sir'. Abbey's employer is twice over a widower, and at only 37; the whispers around town are that he is unlucky. And, indeed, his fortunes are fickle, frequently rising and falling, endeavors falling flat half the time and cleaning up neatly the other half. He alternates between exceptional success and exceptional failure, probably due to his own somewhat-dotty and flaky nature. He does, however, love his daughters, even if he mostly leaves them to Abbey's care.

Eliza Dahlby - Aged 15, her eldest charge.

Jennie Dahlby - Aged 8, quiet and serious, emulates Abbey, but something of a tomboy.
Claire Dahlby - Aged 7, flighty girl girl who loves dancing.

art by rejam!