One minute, Abigail was riding a horse through the woods, laughing as she dared one of the courtiers to race her. Then her horse stumbled—fell—there was a terrible crack—and all went dark.

What happened next is hazy still; there was a man's voice, a promise of another chance at life, an injunction to—to—she can't remember. And then she woke up in what appeared to be the servant's room she inhabited after she was pulled up out of the kitchen—bare and white, a single wooden bed, a plain armoire for her clothes (all of which are chambermaid dresses—finer than what she'd worn as a kitchenmaid, but nowhere near as fine as what she's become accustomed to), a chamberpot under the bed.

She opened the door for a moment, looked around, then closed it instantly. Oh God, what was she going to do? Here she had no patron, no husband (useless though Masham was), no friends—she had to let herself cry a little.

Now she pulls herself together, wipes her face, makes sure of her clothes and hair, and opens the door. Time to explore—and more importantly, to find out who's worth knowing, and make herself indispensable.

You are most likely to meet Abigail in the library or the greenhouse, or possibly just in a hall somewhere. What you will see is a pretty blonde woman with huge, innocent-looking blue eyes, dressed in a plain early 18th century gown. She looks like she's been crying, and indeed she clutches a handkerchief in one hand and her communicator in the other (she does not know how to use it yet). Won't someone help a poor lost lady, a stranger in a strange land?

On her second day, Abigail posts the following to the network:

To the good Gentlemen and Ladies of the veſsel known as the BARGE, my greetings. My name is Abigail Masham and though in my native Time and Place I am poseſsed of a noble Title, I gather that in this place such Formalities are Unneceſsary and I am Happy to be known simply as Abigail, or Mistreſs Masham if you prefer. I come to you, my fellow Paſsengers, in the Spirit of Deepest Humility. For I am here to be Redeemed, or ſo I am told, and it is my Intention to purſue that path Wholeheartedly, ſo that my Soul may be cleanſed and I may be Reſtored to the Service of my good Queen and Country. To that end I hope to make myself Uſeful to all, to treat all with Kindneſs, and to ſubmit to the guiding hand of my eventual Warden, whomever he or she may be. I have ſkill in Needlework, Gardening, and Herbology, and am as Well-Read as a Lady of my Time can be—if these Talents are of Uſe to any, I beg to know where I may Apply them.