"I suggest we all go into the drawing room, so I can explain the events of yesterday and today."
Everyone went, except Cicely, who tugged at Abel's arm. "I want to stay with her," she whispered.
"Sweetheart, Polly will be fine. Don't you wish to find out what happened?"
She glanced backward at her sister. "All right," she sighed.
When Geoffrey had them all seated, he looked from one to the other. His eyes finally lit on Cicely. "You, Cicely, were absolutely right. Let me start with what happened yesterday afternoon."
Cicely watched her parents' faces, as he told them of Polly's suspension from school, but her father gave nothing away. Her mother, she noticed, seemed to be watching him, too. But when he mentioned the lack of care, the lack of food, lack of hot water and the taking of her quilt, the sheriff rose to his feet and began to pace.
"I should never have left her there," he muttered under his breath. "I realize she was not totally innocent in this matter, but there was no reason to treat her as they did. I left her there in good faith that they would take care of her needs."
"And they did not," Geoffrey said. "But I must tell you, sir, I believe I have handled it. Miss Tuttle is to be fired. She was responsible for most of your daughter's ill treatment yesterday afternoon and during the night. Oh," he reached into the breast pocket of his coat. "The school has returned the checque to you for her year of school. Less one week."
Cicely was watching Geoffrey's face and thought he was about to say something else but had changed his mind.
"And now," Geoffrey said quietly. "Sheriff, if I may, I'd like to speak to you in the library, privately."
Cicely disappeared toward the back of the house as soon as Geoffrey and her father went into the library and closed the door. Abel made no move to stop her.
She heard her sister coughing, as soon as she neared the door. It almost brought pain to her own chest as she heard the sound.
"Polly?" she said softly. "It's me. Cissy."
Polly did not answer. She reached out a hand and rested it on her twin's brow. Polly was hot. She blinked, thinking perhaps they had some dogwood bark in the house. That might help.
Just then, however, she heard footfalls approaching. When she turned, Geoffrey stood in the doorway of the room.
"She's still asleep."
He smiled and walked into the room, leaning down to kiss Polly's forehead and letting his lips rest there.
"Pollyanna?"
"Mmm?" Her eyes fluttered open and she met his, smiling.
"I wished to check on you one more time before I left."
Her brow creased. "Must you go?"
"Yes. I brought you home. Cicely's here. I must get home before Pembroke sends out a search party. I've spoken to your family and to your father."
Her eyes opened further. "Father?"
"Yes. He gave me permission to spank you."
"What?"
He laughed. "I'm teasing. He gave me permission to marry you, Pollyanna. But the decision is yours."
She took a deep breath and coughed. Then she blinked, staring. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before straightening. "Think about it. I'll be back tomorrow." He winked at Cicely, before leaving the room.
Polly stared after him until he was gone and then looked toward Cicely. "Oh, Cissy, you should have seen him at the school. He saved me. I don't think Father would have even been able to do that."
"You'll have to tell me what happened," her sister whispered. "But tomorrow. Tonight, you should sleep. I'll get Miss Betsy to see if we have something for fever."
Phebe Begs for Help
It was settled. The wedding for Polly and Geoffrey Wellington was to take place at Christmas. Polly had recovered within a week. She and Cicely spent long hours with their mother, planning, thankful that it was the three of them now and they were free from worrying about Phebe. Cicely was determined Phebe would not interfere with Polly's wedding like she had her own.
It was the following week that they were gathered in the parlor in the home of Cicely and Abel. He was in Woodstock, holding court, that morning.
Mrs. Morgan's voice was heard from downstairs, "Darlin', there's someone at the door. I'll get it."
A moment later, Phebe appeared, looking from one to the other. "I can't stand any more. I'm moving to the dormitory. If you can't help me, I'll have to abandon my things at Mrs. Baxter's."
Cicely looked toward her mother, whose mouth was tight.
"Phebe, none of us can carry your trunks for you. If you must have help, why don't you ask Nicholas?"
"No. I don't want his help. Not for all the money in the world." Phebe's eyes began to fill with tears, and they looked at each other helplessly as she continued, "Nick lectured me when I decided to move out of your house. Please. Two of us, at least, could possibly drag my trunks downstairs. Mrs. Baxter is visiting out of town this afternoon, and I want to be gone when she returns. I don't care if I don't get my money back. I just want my things."
Mrs. Andrews looked from one daughter to the other.
"Phebe, could you wait downstairs for a moment?"
Polly waited until Phebe was gone before she stood to her feet. "Mother? Do you think all four of us could do it?"
Mrs. Andrews shook her head. "I don't know. But let's try. What Mrs. Baxter is doing to Phebe isn't right. But you know what your father will say if he finds out we did this."
"And Abel," Cicely said in a low voice. "He has forbidden me to have anything to do with moving her."
"And Geoffrey," Polly added. "I don't want him to know. Ever."
Mrs. Andrews took a deep breath. "All right. She said Mrs. Baxter was gone. Let's see what we can do."
They moved down the stairs to meet Phebe, who jumped up and down at their approach. "Thank you!" The sincerity in her voice seemed genuine. "But let's hurry!"
They hurried down the block and across to the steps of Mrs. Baxter's boarding house. It was quiet.
"All the men are gone to work," Phebe whispered, as they trudged up the stairs to her room.
"Good gracious, Phebe. She put you in the attic?" Cinderella was halfway up the steps and paused to look further upward. "That's the same room she had me in."
"Yes, I feel like I'm a prisoner in the tower. Hurry!"
Cicely looked around her room when they entered. At least Phebe had her things packed. She and Polly took the lower end of the first trunk, and Phebe and Mrs. Andrews, the sides, trying to slow the descent as they slid it down the series of carpet-laden steps below. But as it reached the landing and they were forced to turn the trunk, it caught on the edge of the carpet. Phebe gave it another shove and there was a rip, just as it began to slide down in the other direction, gaining momentum. They all gasped as it got away, leaving a gash in the carpet all the way down the steps. It managed to slide out into the drawing room, displacing the sofa before it stopped.
"No, no, no, no!" Phebe's hand was clapped to her mouth. "Look what you've done!"
Cicely's mother stared at her. "What we've done? Phebe, this is as much your fault as ours."
"Oh! We have to get out of here!" Phebe was tugging on the trunk now. "Help! We can't stand here and talk all day. She'll be coming back soon." She was growing increasingly agitated.
With a sigh, the twins began pulling again. In ten minutes, they had managed to load the trunk onto the steps of the dormitory and were trying to shove it inside.
"Why didn't you ask for help?" a male voice said, from behind them.
All four ladies cried out in surprise when they saw Zeke Gregory standing behind them.
"Here." He reached for it, and with one hand, brought it inside, into the parlor. "What else can I bring over for you?"
"I have one more trunk," Phebe said, pleading.
"Mrs. Baxter's, I take it?" When the ladies all nodded, he grinned. "That woman needs a moving service to bring things from her house to the dormitory. She's never managed to keep ladies there."
"Because she treats them like slaves. Please hurry, sir." She turned to run back toward the boarding house, with Zeke hurriedly striding behind her. But when he was on his way up the steps, he paused, looking down at the rip in the carpet.
"I do hope you ladies didn't have anything to do with this," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You know it's the first thing she'll see."
"Please, please. Hurry?" It wasn't just Phebe's voice this time. It was a chorus.
Within a few minutes, Phebe's things were moved out. They all stood in the parlor of the dormitory.
Looking down at each of them once more, Zeke nodded. "Anything else I can do?"
Cicely's mother shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Umm, if you could not tell Henson, we would all appreciate it. I'll even have Miss Betsy bake you one of her famous apple pies."
Zeke eyed her and then each one of them in turn. "You wouldn't be trying to," he said sternly. "Bribe a deputy? Would you?"
Her eyes became large, and she blinked.
Zeke gave her a flat look. "Mrs. Andrews, if he doesn't ask, you're in luck. And I see no reason why he should. But if he does, I must tell you, I won't lie to him. And after seeing the rip in Mrs. Baxter's carpet, I can tell you, she'll be right over."
Cicely had never seen her mother look so guilty. "Well, anyway, thank you, Zeke." She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
He chuckled and walked back toward the sheriff's office, shaking his head.
"Shut the door!" Cicely gasped sharply. "I see her—she's coming back!"
Phebe pulled them inside quickly and slammed the door shut behind them. A moment later, the door to the main room opened. Louisa put her head in.
"Oh, it's you, Phebe." She paused, suddenly, when she saw their faces. "Something's wrong. What is it?"
Phebe began to pull the others into the big room and closed the door.
"If Mrs. Baxter comes to the door, don't let her in here. And don't tell her I'm here. And don't—"
"For pity's sake, Phebe." Louisa's voice was full of reason. "It's your choice whether or not you wish to be there or here. There's no need to be afraid." She looked from one to the other.
But Mrs. Andrews took hold of her arm. "And if it's the sheriff, I'm not here, either. Or Abel or Geoffrey. You haven't seen any of us, understand? It's important, Louisa."
"All right," she said, frowning and looking behind them. "Come into the kitchen, and I'll let you out the back door."
It was a half hour later, when Sheriff Andrews glanced out the window in front of his desk and saw his wife sneaking out from between two buildings across the street and down a block. She looked cautiously around and began to move toward home. He stood to his feet and curiously watched her as she paused once again, looking behind her and then hurrying back toward their house.
"Zeke?"
Deputy Gregory came from the back room, where he had just sat down, and joined him.
A minute later, Polly came from the same direction, looking guiltily around her. She turned toward her right, looked again, and disappeared.
"I thought," he said, watching her go." I was sure I just saw Cinderella coming from the direction of the dormitory and looking guilty as hell." He stopped, suddenly.
Cicely came from the other side of the dormitory, her face pink with culpability, as she peeked from the side of the building first one way, then the other, and then crossed the street and started home.
He stood there and then turned to Zeke, shaking his head.
"Never mind, Zeke," he said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think I even want to know."
The Andrews' table was full that evening. Abel looked around at the family he'd become a part of. He was seated at one end of the table, the sheriff at the other, with Cinderella and Cicely between them. On the other side were Geoffrey and Polly.
It was when they were almost finished with the meal that the sheriff set his fork down and looked around the table at his wife and daughters.
"Very interesting thing happened this afternoon," he said, suddenly.
Cinderella's fork paused, halfway to her mouth. Her eyes rose to meet her husband's.
There was a long pause. Abel's gaze dropped to his wife, seated next to him. Cicely had frozen, staring down at the table; so had Polly.
Henson spoke again. "Wouldn't you like to know what it was, sweetheart?"
"Um, yes, of course." Cicely's mother looked as though her smile was forced.
"Well, I'll tell you. It seems as though Miss Watson's trunks disappeared from her room this afternoon, with all of her things. And in addition to that, there was a long gash in the carpet that went from one side of the living room sofa all the way up the steps to the landing." He forked in a bite and took his time chewing and swallowing. "It was quite impressive. I saw it. Zeke went over with me."
Cicely had glanced up at her mother, who was as white as a sheet.
In his career as Judge of Shenandoah County, Abel didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look guiltier than Cinderella Andrews and her two daughters did at this moment.
Henson was looking from one to the other now. "You three," he said curiously. "Wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Cinderella rose from the table, looking ill. "I think I need to lie down," she said. "Excuse me, please."
Henson watched her as she left the dining room and moved up the stairs. Then he looked from Abel to Geoffrey. "Excuse me, gentlemen. It's been a delight to have you eat with us this evening. But I believe there is something I must do."
She never wanted to disobey Abel again, Cicely decided that evening. As soon as her father had risen from the table, Abel had taken her hand and brought her home, leaving Geoffrey alone in the dining room with Polly, looking quite unhappy. Abel had not said a word all the way home. Instead, he kept glancing oddly down at her, all evening. When he took her to bed, he undressed her and put her across his knee, naked.
"Now, young lady, I want you to tell me exactly what you did this afternoon. You have guilt written all over you."
"Oh, Abel! Does it show that much?"
"You might as well be wearing a scarlet letter on your forehead, Cicely Allison. It shows that much. What have you done?" His hand was rubbing her bottom, and she fought to keep from clinching her cheeks together.
"I helped Phebe move today—but wait! It wasn't just me."
His hand, circling her bottom, stilled. "And who else was it? In addition to Phebe?"
"Polly."
At her unfinished tone, he tapped her bare skin impatiently. "And?"
"My mother."
"Your mother?"
"Yes, sir. We all did. We knew we shouldn't, but Mrs. Baxter was out of town for a while, and Phebe's trunks were all the way up, almost in the attic, and she said if she left, she'd never get her things back, and…" The trailing of her voice was followed by a look over her shoulder.
"Your father could have gotten her things back for her. Did that occur to any of you?"
There was a silence, followed by a small, "No."
"Nick would have gotten them."
"Phebe said she wouldn't ask him."
His hand began to move on her bottom. "And what of that, young lady, makes it your problem?"
"I'm sorry."
"You will be."
She whimpered, and he brought an iron hand down several times, hard.
"So, you decided it was all right to disobey me, since I was in Woodstock today?"
"No? Oh! Abel, please."
He moved her off his lap, onto the bed, and rose. "Don't move. I believe it's time for an introduction to the paddle."
"Please don't!"
A moment later, however, he was sitting back down on the bed, placing her back across his knee. Arranging her so her bottom was high, he brought it down hard, and she squealed as the crack of it pierced the air.
"Fifteen more to go, my darling. Perhaps next time, you'll listen when I tell you not to do something. Now, let me tell you what w
ill happen tomorrow. You will confess to causing the tear in Mrs. Baxter's carpet. I'm quite sure your father will see to it that your mother and Polly do the same. That will leave each of you, including Phebe, responsible for one-fourth of the cost of replacement. If, however, you had stayed away, as I told you, none of this would have happened. Would it?"
"No."
Abel brought down the paddle with a loud crack, and she shrieked. He waited.
When he was sure she was breathing again, he brought it down on the spot where her upper thighs met her bottom. "You," he said, punctuating each word slowly, as he brought it down over and over again, "Will. Learn. To. Listen. To. Me. When. I. Give. You. An. Order."
She was wailing now.
He smoothed away some of the sting before he spoke again. "And that leaves two to go. This time, you will count."
The next blow was terrible, and she took a deep breath before saying, "One. Please, sir, no more!"
The next one, when it landed, made her close her eyes.
"Two," she whispered.
Abel set the paddle down on the bed beside her. "I hope you'll remember this. Because I will. The next time, you'll get twice as many. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." It took a long time before she opened her eyes.
"I'm serious, young lady."
"Yes, sir," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"And you're forgiven. But I urge you not to forget this."
His hand, gently rubbing her throbbing bottom, suddenly delved between her legs and pressed. While his thumb gently came forward and caressed her bud, his fingers pressed on her rosebud, entering it slightly. Cicely jumped to her feet with a loud gasp and looked up, her eyes wide and shocked. His held her, refusing to let her go. His right hand remained where it was. His left held her close to him, at the small of her back. Her breathing was fragmented.
She stood there, as their eyes locked—his, dark with hunger, hers with surprise. She threw both arms around his neck and held on.
Abel lifted her off her feet in a single motion and pinned her to the bed with his body facing hers. "I told you not to be surprised when I touch you there," he growled in a voice dark with desire. "It may not be long you find yourself taken there, my love. Expect it."
Judging Cicely Page 14
