by Carol Arens
He did the same. Amazing, he could hear each word clearly now.
“My sister is home, Mother. Last night I was afraid but—”
“And you were right to be, Agatha. She wants nothing to do with you. She is not your true family. The only one you can count on is me. Tell me you know that.”
“But Mother Brunne—”
“Repeat it, Agatha, I am the only one who truly cares about you.”
“You are the only one who truly loves me, Mother Brunne. I know that but... I have a sister!”
“Yes, one who is simply here to marry that William English. She’s as stiff-nosed as he is.”
“I think he’s as handsome as a prince.”
“How would you know that? You’ve never met him.”
“I watched him from the balcony when he used to come and visit Papa.”
“Don’t you go getting any ideas about a handsome prince. Why do you think your father never let you attend any of his soirees? Never introduced you to Mr. English?
“Because he knew you’d never be a fit wife is why. Agatha, my sweet pet, the sooner you understand that it’s only you and me, the better off you will be. Don’t be fooled—if your father truly loved you, he wouldn’t have given everything to your sister.”
Travis shook his head. That was not the reason she did not attend the parties. Foster had wanted her to. It was Mrs. Brunne who had insisted that she would suffer for it.
“I don’t care about that. I’d be afraid if the ranch belonged to me. Aren’t you grateful that Ivy’s come?”
“Hardly. She’ll try and come between us. Break us apart and rip out our hearts. Don’t think that because she claims to be your sister that she won’t toss us out on our ears. She has the power to keep me away from you forever. Never forget that.”
“I’m scared, Mother. How will I survive outside my room without you?”
“You would not survive, my pet. Without me you will die.”
“Maybe not if I had a husband, a strong and handsome one who loved me.”
“Mr. English, you mean. You are not a fit match for him. Don’t forget what the doctor told me.”
“I remember, Mother. It would be the height of folly for me to marry. I would not survive the year.”
“Repeat it.”
“But what if he was wrong?”
“Repeat it four times—you must accept this.”
Agatha did repeat it four times.
Travis had been with Foster and the doctor during Agatha’s illness. He had never said anything close to that. All of a sudden he wanted to break down the door with his fists, even though Ivy had the key. He would demand to know why she was making this up.
“That’s a good girl. Now give Mother a kiss on the cheek. And remember, as long as you hold on to foolish dreams of Mr. English being your prince you will be unhappy.”
“You are right, I suppose. I’m not fit for any man, let alone Mr. English.”
“The sooner you face that fact, Maggie, the better off you will be. Mother Brunne would not tell you anything that was not for your good.”
Maggie? Who the hell was that?
“Take your medicine now, Agatha, my pet. You’ll forget all about a handsome husband.”
“Of course, Mother.”
During the conversation, Ivy’s shoulders had slumped. She’d sagged against him and he’d felt her sorrow. Now with talk of laudanum, she jerked and pushed the pastries at him.
Reaching into her pocket, she drew out the key. Quietly, she opened the door.
“Miss Magee will eat breakfast downstairs this morning,” she stated.
“I forbid it.” Hilda stood in front of her charge, her arms anchored across her bosom.
Ivy swept past her, swiped up the bottle of laudanum from the table. She carried it to the chamber pot and dumped the contents in.
“You have no right!” Hilda screeched.
“You will find, Mrs. Brunne, that I do.”
“Let’s see you manage her, then.”
Agatha knelt beside her sister’s chair.
“Are you frightened of me?” she asked barely above a whisper.
The fact that Ivy was petting Agatha’s arm did not appear to reassure her sister. With her breathing quick and her eyes wide, she stared at Ivy in dread.
It was odd; Agatha should have been pretty, like Ivy was, but instead everything about her was dull.
Her delicate features added up to beauty. Her green eyes and red hair did, too. But Agatha was faded.
“Would you like a pastry?” Ivy held out a croissant with chocolate drizzled on top of it.
“No, what is it?” Agatha touched it cautiously with her fingertip. “Is this a forbidden thing, Mother?”
“Evidently, I am not the judge of it. It must be up to you to decide, Agatha.”
“But I can’t! I need you to tell me what to do.”
“Can you stand?” Ivy asked, stroking her sister’s hair with a light touch.
“Mother?”
“Travis, will you carry Agatha downstairs?” Ivy asked.
“But I’m not allowed.” Agatha’s fingers clutched the arms of her chair until her fingertips blanched. “Things are not safe down there. I could be hurt, or take sick.”
“I promise you won’t be hurt,” Ivy cooed. “But Agatha, you are sick already. If you stay in this room, without sunshine or fresh air, you will get even sicker.”
“Will you let me carry you?” Travis asked, fearing she would say no. He didn’t want to pick her up against her will, but he would if that’s what Ivy wanted.
Tears welled in the corners of Agatha’s eyes, but she nodded her head one time.
“You, Mrs. Brunne, may spend the morning removing these oppressive drapes from the windows and getting rid of the laudanum,” Ivy ordered.
The glare that Hilda stabbed Ivy with surprised him. Although, after all he had just heard, it should not. How could he have lived in the same house with this woman and not known her?
She had deceived him is how. It did not make him feel much of a man to have fallen prey to her artifice.
“When you have finished with it, you may remove the pictures from this room and put them in Agatha’s.”
Where was his Ivy? This Ivy was not the carefree nymph of the river. The woman now giving orders was her father’s child, clear and simple. No one, he decided, could be a more fitting heir.
Chapter Thirteen
Even though Agatha was not sitting in direct sunshine, she blinked her eyes as though the morning light was too bright.
“I reckon it’s been a while since you’ve been outside.” Her sister’s pale skin said so even if Agatha did not answer the question.
People in the process of performing this and that morning task walked on the path below the porch. It didn’t escape Ivy’s notice that they seemed surprised to see Agatha out of her room.
Moments ago, Travis had set Agatha down on the chair then gone off to see to his chores. His absence was for the best since his presence seemed to make Agatha nervous.
Then again, everything seemed to make her nervous. Even the croissants on the plate setting on the table.
“You can eat that. It won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Would you like to walk in the garden?” There was a pretty one, just down the steps. Roses, lilac and daisies bloomed along pathways and around benches. “We can sit if you feel weak.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You’ll be safe, I promise.”
“Walking is difficult for me. I won’t manage.”
“Have you tried?”
Agatha shielded her eyes, gazing out at the garden.
“When
I was little I used to sit in the garden sometimes. But I mustn’t risk it now.”
“I imagine that’s what your nurse says?”
Agatha nodded, glancing apprehensively at the pastries on the dish.
“The truth is, the more you do it, the easier it becomes. Let’s try. You can hold on to my arm.”
“Mother says I’m not to trust you.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Brunne cares for you deeply.” Gull-durn it, Ivy doubted that was true. If it was, it was in some twisted way. “But she is mistaken. Agatha, I’m your sister. There’s no one in this world you can trust more than me.”
Agatha looked down at her lap.
“I’ve read about sisters in books. I wanted one for the longest time.”
“So did I. I think that I remembered you. Not with memories exactly, but my heart remembered how it felt to be with you.”
Agatha sighed, nodded. “I used to play that I had a sister. Mother always got ill at ease when I did. Finally she forbade it.”
“Why does she say you shouldn’t trust me?” Ivy picked up a croissant, licked the chocolate on top. “This is delicious—and I didn’t keel over when I tasted it.”
“Once you have taken my inheritance, you will toss me and Mother Brunne out with nowhere to go.”
“Gosh almighty, Agatha! I will never do that. The only reason I agreed to inherit the ranch was for you...and all these other folks, but mostly for you. I was happy where I was.”
“You really are my sister?” She glanced up from her folded hands.
“Yes.”
“I never knew about you until Travis went to get you.”
“You came as a surprise to me, too.”
Once again, Agatha stared down at her hands in silence.
“If I can prove to you that this here pastry won’t hurt you, will you try one little bite?”
“I don’t see how you can, but I might. As long as you don’t tell Mother Brunne.”
“This will be our secret. It would be nice to have a secret between sisters, don’t you think?”
Agatha began to smile but halfway into it she stopped. “Mother says I must never keep secrets from her.”
“I’m going to prove that this pastry will not hurt you.” Ivy opened the pouch she had designed to wear at her waist. “I have a small friend. She’s partial to sweets.”
“You can trust her not to lead you wrong.”
Ivy took the mouse out of her pouch then held her in the palm of her hand. The little critter stretched, yawned, sat up on her hind legs to lick her fir. Ivy couldn’t help but kiss her between her cute pink ears.
“You kissed a mouse!” Agatha looked shocked.
Ivy wanted to cheer. While revulsion was not quite the emotion she wanted to elicit, it was better than fear which was all her sister had expressed so far.
“Can’t help myself sometimes. She’s just so cute. Here, Little Mouse, show us we have nothing to fear from pastry.”
Ivy broke off a crispy nibble and gave it to the mouse.
“You see? She gobbled it down and wants more.” Ivy broke off another small bite and handed it to Agatha. “Your turn.”
Agatha stared at it for a moment, sniffed it. “I suppose you wouldn’t have let her eat it if it would harm her.”
“I wouldn’t give you anything harmful either. Do you trust me in that?”
“I want to maybe, but Mother says...I don’t know what to do.”
Giving a quick nod, Agatha appeared to make up her mind. She stuffed the pastry in her mouth whole and chewed slowly.
Three seconds in, she smiled. Ivy wanted to weep on the spot. How long had it been since Agatha had smiled? Given that her nurse was keeping her drugged, it had probably been a good long time.
Just as soon as her sister was strong enough, as soon as she recognized Hilda Brunne for the nasty, controlling woman she really was, Ivy would terminate the witch’s employment.
It was a true shame she had to bide her time on this. But wait she would, and make sure the woman did nothing more to harm Agatha.
“I’ve never tasted anything so delicious!” Agatha looked at the remainder of the croissant with longing.
“Hasn’t Mrs. Morgan ever sent treats with your meals?”
“Yes, but Mother eats them all in order to protect me.”
“Blazin’ day, sister, what is she protecting you from?”
“From becoming even more sickly. Sweet things rot the brain. So does spice of any kind.”
Those things also made eating pleasurable so that one didn’t end up thin as a rail like Agatha was.
“So Mrs. Brunne eats the things that taste good so that you won’t suffer?”
“She does love me.”
“The thing is, Agatha, I don’t see Mrs. Brunne turning sickly from eating those things. Don’t you wonder why?”
“I...”
With a trembling hand, Agatha picked up the rest of the croissant, licked off the chocolate like she’d seen Ivy do. She brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “I’d like to hold the mouse, if you think that would be all right?”
As if Little Mouse understood Agatha’s need, she scampered onto the offered hand.
“Her feet tickle my palm.” Agatha glanced at a child running along the path with a chalkboard tucked under his arm. “I hope no one sees. Mother will worry. I’ll need to take a large dose of the medicine.”
“Do you trust me at least a little bit?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t, but I might...just a bit. So far I don’t feel ill from eating the pastry like Mother always said I would.”
“A little bit of trust is a good start, I reckon. I’ve told Mrs. Brunne you are not to have the laudanum. Will you tell me if she asks you to take it again?”
“I’ll try, Ivy. I will, but it does make me sleepy and sometimes I can’t make a clear thought.”
“Now that I’m here, things are going to change for you. You might not be comfortable with it all at first, but in the end, you will be healthy—strong and not frail. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d like to come down and watch the parties.”
“How would you like to dance at one?”
Agatha shook her head, no.
Ivy reckoned she’d pushed too hard, made her sister skittish. But in time Agatha would be dancing.
As long as William English was pleased with Ivy, still wanted to marry her after he met her, she would have the time she needed to make her sister strong.
Everything depended upon him accepting her.
Between now and the barbecue, when she would meet him for the first time, she would work as hard as a bee in summer to become a lady William would be proud of.
The heartache was, a bond with William English meant growing away from Travis.
* * *
Ivy sat upon her horse’s back, gazing at rolling, golden land that seemed to stretch all the way to eternity. She breathed in the scent of the grass, listened to the distant bellow of cattle and the faraway shouts of cowboys who were well beyond her view.
Even the brush was alive with the twitter of small birds hopping merrily from twig to twig.
In June, she’d been positive that no place would ever be home but the River Queen. But now, here it was August and the big house to the east, looking like a pearl in the distance, was beginning to capture a place in her heart.
One day she expected to be as comfortable on horseback as she had been on the deck of the riverboat.
Of course the wide and muddy Platte would never be the equal of the great Missouri.
Even though she was coming to accept the changes in her life, find joy in her days even, she would always miss that wonderful river.
But life was opening up in a w
ay that made her heart nearly sing out loud. Agatha was beginning to show interest in life outside her room.
If Ivy ever questioned the wisdom of having mice for pets, and she couldn’t recall that she had, she did not do so now.
Affection for the docile rodent was what had convinced Agatha to regularly leave the safety of her room and venture into the sunshine. It seemed that her sister had a fondness for animals that had never been allowed to blossom.
The outings had been few and short, always accompanied by the hovering shadow of Mrs. Brunne. Still, it was a beginning.
Truth to tell, it wasn’t only the mouse helping Agatha find life beyond her familiar walls, it was anticipation of the barbecue which Agatha intended to watch from a dim corner.
Ivy only wished she could watch from a corner, too. She didn’t feel half ready to play her role.
Becoming refined was not as easy as putting on new clothes. There was learning to walk, talk and subtly flirt—and all at the same blamed time.
The flirting was what had her most worried. It was as natural to her as icicles hanging from the smokehouse during a heat wave.
Coquetry was the reason she found herself out here alone.
As much as she needed to learn how to charm William English, she sure as blazes couldn’t practice on Travis.
If she batted her eyes at him, sighed in a way to make her bosom rise...well, blazin’ days if she wouldn’t want to feel his hands upon it.
It was a wicked thing to want and she knew it. But lately it was plum hard not to imagine. Maybe if his hands weren’t twitching at her ribs during dance lessons she would not have pictured it at all.
But his big, bold, cowboy fingers were twitching. Subtly so Antie wouldn’t notice, but still, they were.
He wanted to touch her bosom. She wanted him to. The secret was there between them.
“Gosh almighty, what a pickle,” she murmured. “How’s a body to learn how to attract a man and keep him away at the same time?”
Antie had told her what to do, lower her eyelids while looking into his eyes—a plum tricky thing to do in Ivy’s opinion—and most important to sigh with the bosom. Look tantalizing and virtuous all in one demure little package.
It was all a bunch of monkeyshines, but here she was trying to learn it.
