As Cassie awoke with a start, she looked down to see Chickey still in her arms from last night. She sat up and looked around the enormous room, trying to take in all that had happened the night before. There was a knock at the door. Cassie jumped out of bed and ran over to the door to find it slowly opening. “Come in,” she whispered, unsure of the situation. The door opened and standing in the hall was Goodness and three other maids.

“Breakfast mam. Please jump back into bed and we will serve it there,” explained Goodness.

Cassie ran back to the bed and shook Chickey from her slumber. “Sit up, Chickey - we are going to have breakfast in bed,” squealed Cassie excitedly.

Goodness explained that all the maids were to treat Cassie and Chickey as guests of the highest order. The girls were to rest and recover from their ordeal.  They would have the very best treatment, were to remain in their rooms for at least six weeks, but were allowed out on to the balcony. They would be pampered as southern ladies and would eat the best food served from the Chef to the Colonel. The governor’s ball would be held in three months, and it was the grandest affair. The ladies would be shown off in all their splendour and would be the centrepiece of the evening.

The weeks passed, and from their balcony the girls could see the preparations taking shape. The house and surrounding gardens were a hive of activity. The six weeks kept in their room passed slowly, but the luxury they enjoyed was so far from Hawkin's plantation it was if the girls were on a different planet. Eventually the wait was over, and the girls were allowed to walk in the gardens, although each with a chaperone constantly by their side. They could go anywhere on the grounds, but were not encouraged to go back to the stables, the scene of their arrival. Cassie asked if she could go down to the apple orchard, but was stiffly told not to go down there, as it was too near to the blacksmith’s shop and that was far too dangerous for a young lady to pass.

The summer days slowly turned to autumn, and the girls were treated as promised, wanting for nothing. They still only wore the loose smocks they had been given on their first day, but these were changed daily. The only thing that puzzled the girls was that they were measured every day. It was a strange affair. After their breakfast in bed, once they had washed, a maid they never saw for the rest of the time came in and measured their height and the length between their shoulders and hipbones. She then measured from their knee to their ankle. The girls were told it was for their outfits for the Governor’s ball but the girls retorted, “The lady never measures our bust, waist or hips, so how will our gowns fit?”  This brought giggles from the other maids who told them it was a surprise they would have to wait for. “Three days before the ball you will see your outfits, so do not worry, you will look your best” they assured them.

Two weeks before the party, Cassie laid in the shade of the house, her companion and friend Amy lying next to her.  Suddenly, Cassie heard a “Pssst.”  She lay still as Amy stirred, gently got up and walked over to the house. Cassie lay as still as she could, and when she thought it was safe to do so, turned to see Amy talking to a lad. He was holding a long bronze pole with a hoop at one end. At the other end Cassie recognised a coupling used on carriages.  The hoop was approximately 16 inches in diameter and Cassie held her neck knowing the pole was meant for her. All this luxury had a price and now Cassie knew it. They were to pull the Governor’s carriage to the ball. Amy spun around and saw Cassie’s face. She rushed over to her in a panic, “Please don’t tell - he was just showing me something from the stables - Please don’t tell,” pleaded Amy.

Cassie had used her time at the Governor’s well. She had done a great deal of thinking and settled into her new life, knowing someday the price would be paid. “I will not tell on you Amy as long as you tell me what is going on,” demanded Cassie.

Amy burst into tears, her face horrified, “No mam.  I cannot.  He will kill me. It is a secret. Every year it is a secret.”

“Every year? What on earth do you mean? Out with it or I will tell the Colonel!” Cassie smiled to herself. She had no intention of telling the Colonel, the first time she had called him by that title, the living the hell that was Hawkin's Plantation had rubbed off on her. Manipulation came easy.

Amy spluttered, “Oh, I am so sorry for you both. The outfits you are to wear to pull the carriage are the finest I have ever seen. The craftsmanship and detail are better than ever. The Colonel has excelled himself. Oh, God, please, I cannot tell.”

Cassie went to stand up, and Amy pleaded. “OK. OK. But please I will try to help you. I will try to save you. You may not die like the rest -- not if I help you after the ball.

CHAPTER TWELVE