Her eyes were mournful when she looked up.
"Had you thought about our marriage? No—don't look away from me. I want an answer. Now."
Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. A tear escaped. He had changed his mind. Her worst fears had come to pass.
"You no longer want me," she whispered. "I can't blame you, if—"
"Hush. Listen to me, my beautiful girl. Nothing will ever stand in the way of my wanting you. What I'm asking you is if you have made up your mind."
Her eyes were full of tears now, streaming down her face, and she choked out a sob. "Yes, sir. I want to marry you. More than anything. But you must be so disappointed in me—" His hand covered her mouth, stopping her.
"Shh. Now, I have another question to ask you. Are you ready to follow my guidance?"
She pushed tears away with the backs of her hands. "Yes."
"And?" he asked, inches from her face now. "My discipline?"
A hiccup from her was the only sound in the room. A few seconds later, however, she added, "Yes, sir."
Abel pulled the covers away and moved her so that she was sitting on his lap. Embracing her, he kissed the top of her head, then her temple. Caressing the small chestnut tendrils of hair that were escaping at her temples, he whispered into her ear, "I love you, my darling. And I have every intention of marrying you. Do not doubt that. I want you to sleep well tonight. Tomorrow evening, I'll be back to see you. And if you're well enough, I expect to have a long talk with you. All right? And after that, perhaps we can discuss the plans for our wedding?"
She threw her arms about him and held on. Snuggling her face into his neck, she nodded.
Dear Abel. She couldn't remember a time he hadn't been there for her. Even when she was a child, he always seemed to have picked up the pieces and put them back together.
Cicely relaxed against his chest and closed her eyes. And slept.
Abel settled her down, sometime later, into her bed and rose to go downstairs. She had not even whimpered. He found the sheriff and Cinderella alone in the drawing room.
"Has she given you her decision, Judge?"
"Yes. She has. We're to discuss our wedding plans tomorrow evening. And other things."
"Then, after supper, we'll put the two of you in the parlor to talk. Phebe is unaware of it, but she will be going home as soon as we can get a telegraph to her father to send the coach for her."
"I'll send it tomorrow." Her husband put a hand on her shoulder. "My love, I have always known our daughters were a handful. But I don't think the both of them together hold a candle to Miss Phebe Watson."
Plans and Changes of Plans
The next morning, Cicely accompanied her father to the telegraph office. She studied him as he sent a note to Phebe's father, explaining in words, as politely as possible, that Mr. Watson needed to send for his daughter. Things were not working out.
He dropped her off at the General Store and went on down to his office.
"And hello, young lady. Which one are you?" Mr. Greene was chuckling.
"I'm Cicely, Mr. Greene." She raised a hand and grinned back. "Honest."
"Ah. I believe you. And what brings you in today."
"I umm…" She bit her lip and looked around. "Can you keep it a secret?"
He looked surprised and then put a finger to his lips. "I promise. I'm very good at keeping secrets."
"I'd like to see the catalogues—the wedding section, please."
"Absolutely." He reached under the counter and pulled out a couple of them, putting them in front of her and finding the section she wanted. Then he turned them so they faced her.
But she wasn't paying attention closely enough, and a moment later, Natalie Greene was standing beside her.
"A wedding? When?"
Cicely gasped. Her face turned crimson as she looked up.
"My dear." Mr. Greene put a finger to his lips once again.
"Oh." His wife shook her head. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"It hasn't been made official yet," Cicely whispered, just as the bell sounded and the door was opened. She looked up to see Phebe standing in the door and quickly closed up the catalogues.
Phebe stopped, staring. "What were you looking at?"
"Christmas gifts. It's a secret," Cicely lied. "What's happening at home?"
Phebe eyed her suspiciously and looked toward Mr. and Mrs. Greene. Natalie moved into the back room, and Samuel returned the catalogues to their spot under the counter and turned around to move things about on the shelves. Phebe frowned, obviously unhappy.
"Nothing is going on at home. It's boring. That's why I thought I'd come this way."
"Oh, I see." Cicely looked away.
But Phebe wasn't finished. "I thought I might peek my head in the courtroom and see what was going on this morning. I know this is Abel's day to hold court."
Cicely looked at her, frowning. "Don't be surprised if he makes you leave."
But Phebe continued, "I hope it doesn't smell terrible."
Cicely glanced at Mr. Greene, who was looking inquisitively over his shoulder now. Quickly, she said, "Someone got sick in the courtroom." She grabbed Phebe's arm and pulled her outside. "Phebe! What are you doing?"
Phebe stared at her. "Nothing. What are you doing? You're trying to keep something from me. I don't like it."
Cicely closed her eyes a minute and then opened them with a sigh. "I think we should go back home. Mother will have lunch ready soon. She might need some help."
"Ah. One minute, you're in the General Store looking at catalogues, and the next, you're the dutiful daughter. How impressive. You weren't even the one who had to clean up the courtroom last night."
Cicely could feel her anger growing within her, tightening her throat. "Stay here, then," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going home." She looked up, just as her father closed the door to the office and moved toward them.
"Hello, Ciss. I think your mother is likely putting lunch on the table at this very moment. You two had probably better head home."
She turned and went toward the house. When she looked up, Phebe was following, but her steps were dragging. When Cicely reached the front of the house, she went inside. She found her mother in the kitchen, frowning.
"Ciss? Where is Phebe? She left without telling anyone. I just happened to see her walking down the street a few minutes ago."
"She's coming. We ran into Father." Cicely took a whiff of the soup Miss Betsy had made. "My favorite." She walked into the kitchen and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss Miss Betsy's cheek.
"And you and your sis are my favorites, too, darling. Give a tug on the bell, will you?"
Cicely reached for it. As she did, she heard the front door open and then close again. Her father put his head in. Phebe was ahead of him.
Lunch was quiet. Cicely and Polly chattered about the dinner to come that evening. Henson and Cinderella carried on chatter of their own. Phebe, however, sat in silence. Occasionally, she would send a suspicious glance toward Cicely.
It was after lunch that her father rose. "Miss Watson, Ciss. Come into my study in five minutes, please."
They stared at each other, and then Cicely watched her father go into the study. Each of them sat there, watching the clock through the door in the dining room, until it was time. When she rose, Phebe quickly followed.
Cicely's glance toward her father was met with a grim gaze. His voice sounded extremely stern.
"Sit down, young ladies. Ciss, I want you to be here to listen. Miss Watson, I wish to speak to you."
Phebe began to fidget with the ruffle on her skirts.
"What is it, sir?"
He leveled his gaze at her. "When you came for a visit, I thought you were here to see my daughters. To spend time with them, time with the family. It has begun to become apparent to my wife and I that you came for another reason."
Phebe met his gaze. "You think I came to see Abel."
His voice was quiet when he spoke. "Didn't you?"
"Well, I suppose I did, yes, but I wanted to enjoy spending time with Polly and Cissy, too." She was not looking at him now.
Cicely watched her father as he considered his words carefully. That was something she had always admired about him. He thought through things very carefully before letting them pass his lips.
He looked down at the telegram in his hand. "I sent your father a telegram, early this morning. I've just now heard back from him."
Phebe's head snapped up at that. "What did you tell him?"
"I explained, as tactfully as possible, that your visit here had not been a pleasant one—for you—or for my daughters. I explained that I thought it might be time for you to return home."
She swallowed hard. "And…what did he say?"
"He said that he and your mother are about to depart on a trip and this is not the best time to have to come for you."
"Of course he did." Phebe's voice sounded bitter. "There has never—is never, a good time for him to have to fool about with me."
Cicely knew Phebe well. This reaction was totally genuine. She'd never seen Phebe's face contort into such an expression of humiliation. Her arms wrapped about her chest, as sobs were trapped within her throat. She almost looked as if she was drawing inward on herself. Cicely looked up in alarm at her father, who was watching Phebe carefully.
A moment later, the dam burst. Phebe tried to run from the room, but Cicely was too quick for her and reached the door first. Throwing her arms about her friend, she whispered to her, trying to comfort, "Shh, Phebe—don't cry. We love you here. We care."
Phebe was sobbing too hard to answer.
Cicely's father had reached them now and put his arms about Phebe's shoulders. "Cicely is telling you the truth, Miss Watson. We do care. Come, sit back down. Let me tell you what I think we should do."
It took a few moments for Phebe to compose herself. Finally, she nodded, still sniffling, and moved back to her chair. Cicely's father dragged his swivel chair near hers and began to speak softly to her. "I am not going to kick you out, Miss Watson. But here are a few things you must know. Are you listening?"
When she nodded, he continued, "I expect my daughters to behave themselves in my home. Although, they haven't always been the best at that." He winked at Cicely and went on. "You are welcome to stay here, too. But, if you do, it is necessary that you behave while you're here. I will expect as much of you as I do of them. Can you understand that?"
"Yes." It was a whisper. "I'm sorry I haven't been a good guest so far." She pushed away tears. "It just—every year when I come home from school for a month, they decide to go on a trip. They don't plan to be back until I'm gone again to school. That's why, the past three years, I've come for a visit here." Her voice sounded miserable. "It never occurred to me that I would be such a problem that you all might not want—" Her voice broke into whispered sobs, and Cicely once again threw her arms around her.
Her father put a hand on Phebe's shoulder. "Miss Watson, if you will promise you'll behave yourself here, we would very much like for you to stay. But you must promise. And there is something else you must know."
She looked toward Cicely and then at him. "Yes?"
Cicely watched her father, unsure what he was about to say. When he glanced at her, she knew.
"Abel and Cicely have decided to marry."
Her head jerked toward Cicely and then away. "So, that was it. I knew there was something."
His quiet voice spoke gently, "She was keeping it from you, only because I asked her to."
There was a long silence in the room, and finally, Phebe nodded. "Thank you for telling me."
"You have not answered my first question, Miss Watson. Do you think you can abide by the rules here at the Andrews house? If so, there is no reason you can't stay here until school starts. Then you and Polly can go back together."
Cicely stared at him. This would be the first time in her whole life that she and Polly would not be together. It would be so foreign to her. How could they stand to be apart?
Phebe's voice was a whisper when she answered, "I will do my best, Mr. Andrews."
He nodded. "I'm glad. And I'm glad you'll stay with us. My wife will be, too."
She looked at him and smiled, even though it was a small one. "Thank you, sir." Rising to her feet, she slowly crossed to the door and let herself out without looking at Cicely.
Her father looked down at her gently. "All we can do is our best, Ciss. And expect Phebe to do hers."
She nodded. "I guess so." She rose. "I think I'll help Mother with the dishes and go upstairs."
He nodded. "You know your mother and I love you."
She ran back to him quickly and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek.
"I love you, too, Father."
When she got to the dining room, her mother was finishing up the dishes. "Go upstairs and rest, sweetheart," she said. "You look tired."
"I am, rather."
"And I'm going to talk to your father." Her mother hugged her and disappeared into the hallway, hurrying toward the library.
Cicely climbed the last flight and went into the room she had shared with her twin since the time they were born. Polly was lying down with her eyes closed.
She closed the door and locked it. Then she bit her lip, staring at it, and a moment later, reached over and unlocked it again. Perhaps it wasn't good to lock Phebe out? But Phebe hadn't been in their room for several days now.
Fingering the delicate necklace at her throat, she reached out again. She knew she would not rest with it left open. She listened for the key to click and then climbed into bed.
"When are you going to tell Phebe about marrying Abel?" Polly had just awakened and began to lazily stretch her limbs. Leaning up on one elbow, she stared at the door and tilted her head. "Did you just lock the door?"
Cicely nodded. "I did. And Father told her when we were in the study, right before I came up. It was so strange, Polly." She was sitting up on the side of the bed, frowning. "All she said was, 'Thank you for telling me.' That's all. I expected more. For her to burst into tears, to shout, to accuse me of…oh, I don't know. Something." She stood to her feet and looked toward the door. "Maybe we've done the wrong thing by putting her in another room. Maybe she feels isolated."
Polly was at the door now, turning the key. "Come with me."
Cicely knocked. No answer. Phebe's door was locked when she tried it.
"Phebe? Open up. We're not going to go away."
Polly knocked this time. "We'll stand here and knock all night long. Come on, Phebe. Open the door."
There was some shuffling inside the room, and after a moment, they could hear the key being turned in the lock. Cicely met her sister's eyes.
The door opened. Phebe stood there. Her eyes were swollen from crying.
"May we come in?"
Phebe shrugged. "It's your house."
"It's yours, too, Phebe," Cicely said quietly.
"You don't want me here. Your family doesn't. My family doesn't. I don't know what to do."
A soft voice from Cicely answered, "Stay here. With us. We do want you, Phebe. Very much."
Phebe looked toward first one, then the other, and moved over to the settee. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. They followed, sitting down close to her. "I know I've…" she began with a gulp. "I have been difficult at times. I've been selfish. I thought I wanted Abel."
"Phebe, I'm sorry you found out the way you did."
It was a surprise when Phebe shook her head. "I've been thinking. It isn't your fault, Cissy. I'm not sure it was even Abel I wanted. I think maybe I just wanted—"
"To belong to someone?" Polly said softly. "I feel that way, too, Phebe. It's hard not to know what your future will bring. We're nineteen. Most ladies have married by now."
Phebe stared at her and nodded.
Polly spoke softly, with compassion, meeting Phebe's eyes. "But you have a family here who loves you, if you'll ac
cept us. Let us into your heart, Phebe. Please?"
Tears began to flow again, and Phebe reached around Polly's neck. Cicely joined the hug.
"Girls?"
Cicely looked up. Her mother stood in the doorway. She came toward them and put a hand on Phebe's shoulder. "Stay with us. We want you to. I want you to." She looked around the room. "And while this is a lovely room, I wonder if you wouldn't like to move in with Ciss and Polly?"
Phebe blinked. "Could I?"
"Yes. In exchange for one thing. A promise there will be no pranks. Can you do that? The reason I put you in here is to protect my girls." She sat down next to Phebe and reached for her hand. "I'd like for you to be one of my girls, too."
A small smile crept over Phebe's face. "I would like that."
"No pranks?"
A nod answered. "Yes, ma'am. No pranks."
Cicely watched as her mother reached forward and enveloped Phebe in her arms. "Then we'll start tomorrow and bring your bed into the big room. There is plenty of room for another bed and a dresser for you in there. But that isn't the reason I came up. The bell pull didn't seem to work, again, and Abel is downstairs. Supper is almost ready."
Cicely gasped, and Phebe held up a hand.
"I promise—I didn't do anything to it!"
Cicely's mother put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I didn't think you did. Henson will check on it tomorrow in the daylight. But hurry, girls. Abel is downstairs waiting." She looked toward Cicely. "Impatiently."
Cicely ran to her room and heard Polly's voice as she left. "Bring your things into our room, and we'll help you get ready. What are you wearing?"
But her mind was not on what was happening in the next room. Cicely's heart was pounding. Abel was here, waiting to see her. Impatiently? That's what her mother had said. They were to plan their wedding tonight. Father Michael must be spoken to. The marriage banns had to be completed. That should give them three weeks, at least. Unless…" She ran to the wardrobe and pulled out the dress she'd planned to wear, laying it out on the bed. Rushing into the bath, she began to wash up and tugged a brush through her long locks. There wasn't time to put it up, so she decided to just leave it down for the evening.
Judging Cicely Page 5
