Cicely looked up into Abel's eyes fearfully. "Phebe," she said in a whisper.
"I know," Abel said softly, as he led her into the house.
In the few seconds it took to reach the drawing room, the scene inside had completely recomposed. Polly sat at the piano and was playing and singing in her sweet, soprano voice. Phebe had her head down over her sewing, and her parents were sitting next to each other, deep in conversation. They looked up when she entered, with Abel's arm about her shoulders.
"Sheriff?" Abel's deep and commanding voice spoke from above her. "A word please?"
Her father rose. "Certainly. The library?"
Abel gave her shoulders a brief squeeze as he went toward the adjoining room and closed the door. She sat down, but couldn't keep her eyes from it. Listening for their voices, she was surprised to hear them rising and falling. Still, she understood nothing of what was being said.
"Dinner will be ready soon," said her mother softly.
Polly abandoned the piano and rose. "That's good."
"Don't stop, Polly." Cicely glanced at her.
"I can't concentrate. I want to know what's going on in there." She moved toward the library door, until her mother stopped her.
"Polly. It's impolite to eavesdrop. Sit down."
She sighed and obeyed.
Cicely grinned at her sister's expression. "You're more curious than I am," she said, finally.
"Yes. It's killing me."
"I promise, dear, eventually you'll know." Her mother was smiling at her.
"Only if someone tells me. Father will tell you. You won't have to wait."
"Your father tells me what he can. But being in law enforcement, there are some things he can't share. Otherwise, we have no secrets from each other. That's crucial in a marriage."
"I suppose," Polly frowned, clearly unconvinced.
Phebe sat through the whole conversation, silent.
But when it went on much longer than expected, Cicely found herself pacing. How long did it take a judge to say, 'The party of the first part requests permission to marry the party of the second part'?
She laughed out loud at her thoughts. But at the same time, the library door opened. Her father stood in the doorway, his expression grim. His eyes scanned the room until they lit on her, and she stopped, her eyes wide.
"In here, young lady."
She knew that voice. She was in trouble? Cicely flew toward the library, and her father moved aside and then closed the door behind her. Abel was sitting in the swivel chair, watching her.
"I want to know, Cicely Allison, if you and Polly went outside the house to put that sign on the front door when the Confederates attacked."
Cicely turned to Abel, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "You told him?" she blurted out angrily.
Laughter from both her father and Abel filled the room, both surprising her and increasing her anger, but she stopped, glaring at both of them. When she was drawn into her father's embrace, she looked up.
"Pipe down, Ciss. It isn't what you did as much as it is the fact that, apparently, you kept the truth about how you did it to yourselves all these years. That fact that Abel could drag it out of you makes me realize he would be the perfect husband for you."
"But it wasn't that we intended to keep it a secret! It's just that after they asked the first time, no one ever mentioned it again, except to say what a heroic and dangerous thing we did. So, there was no reason to tell…" She stopped, when Abel rose and moved toward her.
"There is always a reason to tell the truth, Cicely." Abel's voice was firm.
She lowered her head and nodded. But out of the corner of her eye, she watched her father move back around the desk and sit down. Folding his hands in front of him on top of the desk, he leaned forward.
"Well, Judge, what do you think we should do with her?"
Abel put his arms around her, and she leaned into him.
"I think, Sheriff, that the statute of limitations has run out on this one. A nineteen-year old cannot be required to pay for the crimes of a child of seven. I think we should just give her a hug and let her off with a warning. I've done that already."
Cicely turned and threw her arms around him.
"All right. Then the slate is clean. That leaves only the other matter."
She opened her eyes, staring at her father. "The other matter?"
"Yes." He winked at her. "The matter of your marriage to Judge Carter."
She waited, while her father continued, "Abel has asked permission for your hand. I have given it. He tells me, however, that he wants you to think it over for a few days. Is that agreeable with you?"
"No. I mean, yes—but I told him I didn't need that. I have made up my mind, Father. I want to marry him."
"I understand that. But you have time, regardless. And I prefer that you don't mention this to Phebe—until you've answered for certain."
Cicely was disappointed. Phebe had suddenly become the person she most wanted to share her news with. But she thought perhaps she was being spiteful. She nodded.
"Then it's settled." The sheriff rose from his chair. "Stay for dinner, Judge?"
"Absolutely, Sheriff."
Tea Rooms and Cigars
The following week, Cicely thought constantly about Abel's proposal. She wondered whether she should be the one to bring it up once again or if he would. It was Thursday, when Phebe mentioned the three of them going into town for a lunch at the Tea Room.
Phebe had been subdued that week. She had not once mentioned what happened Sunday afternoon. Truth be told, Cicely thought, it was not Phebe who had gotten her in trouble. She had done it herself when she explained how she and Polly got the sign up outside the house. Phebe had nothing to do with that, and if she had mentioned it to Cicely's father, no one had said anything.
Cicely had already decided to try to salvage the rest of her visit with her friend and to make the visit as enjoyable as possible. Polly reluctantly agreed. Cicely was downstairs with her when she spoke.
"Mrs. Andrews, I was wondering if I could take Polly and Cissy to the Tea Room for lunch? You are welcome to come, too, of course."
Cicely's mother smiled. "Thank you, Phebe, but I have too many things to do here to leave the house today. Have a good time. But be back before dinner, all right? And stop by the sheriff's office sometime this afternoon and let him know you are all right? It's starting to get dark a little earlier now."
"Yes, ma'am."
Cicely watched as Phebe leaned down and kissed her mother on the cheek and left to go up and tell Polly.
"Be careful, Ciss," her mother whispered in her ear. "Stay out of trouble."
"We will, Mother," she whispered back. Somehow, she thought, as they descended the front steps, her mother had not looked convinced.
It was almost like old times, as the three of them walked along the street toward the Tea Room. Phebe was happy and chattering away. Polly's mood even seemed to have lightened somewhat, as Phebe talked about the fun they had at school and all the things they had gotten into the previous year. She mentioned the skits they had done for the young ladies at school. Phebe had played the part of Nurse Darren, the school nurse, whom they merrily referred to as 'Nurse Dagmar'. Cicely had performed the part of Director Stenson, whom they called 'Mr. Stumpelstiltskin' because of his love of money and hesitancy to part with it. And Polly had captured the whiny voice of Miss Tuttle, the woman who was in charge of the women's hall, referred to as 'Miss Tattletale' behind her back. The more they chattered, the more they began to giggle.
Cicely felt very relaxed as they sat and ate and drank. But when Phebe suddenly asked to see the courthouse, she was surprised.
"Most of the cases Abel presides over are in Woodstock. That's where the county seat is. But he does hold court here two days a week."
"Please show me," Phebe grinned. "I'm actually thinking of going home early, and I would love to see it."
Cicely looked toward her sister. Polly only s
hrugged. "Okay," she said softly.
It was almost three when they left the Tea Room and began to walk down the street toward the building that was used as a courthouse. Polly put her head in to see her father sitting at his desk when they passed the sheriff's office.
"And what are you girls up to?" He was grinning as he spoke.
Cicely leaned forward. "Phebe wants to see the courthouse. Is it locked?"
He frowned. "I don't believe so. But don't stay in there long. Your mother invited Abel for dinner this evening."
She smiled. She hadn't seen Abel all week. She was amazed at how much she had missed him.
She was giddy with excitement when they went inside the room. At first, they just stood there. There were wooden seats lined all the way across, with an aisle down the center. The judge's bench covered the front of the room, with a swinging half-door on both sides and one for the witness stand. Behind the bench was the place where the judge sat. A swivel chair was right behind the counter.
"Whoa…" Phebe walked to the small area and looked around. "This is impressive."
Cicely nodded.
Suddenly, out of the silence, Phebe's voice rang out. "Now, Your Honor, I would like to present 'Miss Hasenpfeffer', the defendant, whom I personally caught sneaking into the dormitory after curfew on Wednesday night." She motioned furiously to Cicely to come forward and sit down in the judge's chair and then to Polly, to stand before the bench. "'Miss Tattletale, read the charges, please."
Polly took her place in the front, while Phebe reached in her bag and pulled out a cigar, shoving it to Cicely's hand.
Her eyes grew wide, and she began to protest. "You're jesting. I can't—"
"Of course you can. Don't be a bore." Next, she reached into her bag and pulled out a tin with matches in it.
"Where did you get this?"
"From my father. You're being a nuisance, Cicely. Here." She struck the match and pushed the cigar toward Cissy's mouth. "Miss Tattletale, please read the charges while Judge Stumpelstiltskin lights his cigar." Her voice was clipped and demanding.
By now, Cicely had drawn enough air in that a coiled spiral of smoke was drifting upward from her chair. She coughed once and took a breath, as Polly paused, finishing the fake charges.
Phebe nodded toward Cicely. "Now, Judge. Shall we hear your thoughts on the matter?"
Cissy took the cigar out from between her teeth, feeling slightly nauseated, and adopted the same Bostonian accent that the school's director was famous for. She puffed out a mouthful of smoke, making a ring, and took a breath.
"And now, the court will hear the case of Miss Hasenpfeffer." She coughed again. The cigar was well lit now, and Phebe took the arm of her chair and began to swivel her back to face the back of the courtroom.
"Miss Hasenpfeffer," she continued, coughing, "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but—"
In a split second, Cicely froze. In the back of the courtroom stood Judge Abel Carter. His arms were folded. The line of his jaw was hard, and it was pulsing. Cicely could see it from where she sat.
The next second, she inhaled an extremely sharp breath full of smoke and then burst into a fit of severe coughing she couldn't stop.
Abel appeared next to her in a moment and had her down over his lap, slapping her on the back to try to help her get her breath.
Polly had also run toward the back and was kneeling in front of her. Phebe was leaning back against the wall with frightened eyes.
"Cissy, you look terrible. Are you sick?" Polly asked gently.
Cicely could only nod her head. Abel brought her upright in his lap and raised her arms above her head.
"Breathe," he commanded.
After a futile moment, she managed to take a deep breath and leaned her head against his chest. Abel held her there against him, and swiveling in the chair, he turned from Polly to Phebe.
"I believe both of you had better go back to the house." he said. "I'll bring her home in the carriage."
Phebe immediately ran down the aisle and out the door. Polly was hesitant to leave her twin. Abel turned back to her. "She'll be all right, Polly. I'll bring her home as soon as she feels better."
Polly moved her gaze from Cicely to Abel and then back to her sister.
"I promise," he said softly. "Go, before it gets dark."
Polly nodded and, picking up Cissy's bag, moved around the front of the bench to pick up hers. She looked back as she reached the door and left.
Cicely was wheezing slightly, and he leaned down against her ear. "I can't even begin to tell you how much trouble you're in, young lady," he said fiercely. "But not today. You're wheezing. Are you all right?"
She coughed again and nodded.
"You don't sound like it. Deep breath. Now."
Cissy sat straight up in his lap, and in the next second, leaned over his lap and vomited all over the floor.
Smoke and Sickness
Abel reached down, holding her head with his left hand gently. With the right, he gathered up her hair and pulled it back to keep it out of her face. She was as white as a little ghost, as she heaved repeatedly, over and over, emptying her stomach. A few seconds later, she was sobbing.
"Finished now?" He leaned down, speaking with a gentle voice.
When she tried to nod, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped her mouth. Slowly sitting her upright, he whispered to her, "Shh. I've got you. Just sit here in my lap for a bit and rest."
"I feel awful."
"I know. Just let me hold you." He found himself rocking her gently, until she shook her head.
"Abel? Please be still?"
"Yes, my darling."
Abel held her very still this time, against him.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Shh. I know."
"You must hate me."
"Never."
It was a half-hour before she felt like moving, and Abel lifted her into his arms and took her out to the carriage.
Cicely, embarrassed at anyone from town seeing her, closed her eyes in pretended sleep, as he took her out to the carriage. A wave of nausea struck when it began to move, and she let out a whimper. Abel brought her home, but very slowly.
Henson ran out of the sheriff's office as he passed and then went back in to tell one of the deputies to relieve him. He beat them home and held the door for Abel to bring her inside.
Cinderella was, at first, distraught. But when she realized what had occurred and the mischief the girls had been into, her mouth flattened into a line. She ran upstairs ahead of Abel, who ascended them with Cicely in his arms, and turned down the bed for her daughter. She stood on the other side of the bed, her hands clenching and unclenching in the sides of her skirt.
When Abel put Cicely gently down and planted a kiss on her forehead, she remained silent, watching. Finally, she spoke. "What happened?"
Abel's mouth flattened. "I really think the girls should tell you themselves."
Mrs. Andrews' eyes flew to Cicely. "They're in trouble, then? I was afraid of that."
But Abel put up a hand. "Polly and Phebe are the responsibility of you and your husband, ma'am. I suppose, to be honest, Cicely is, as well. She already knows she's in trouble with me. But I told her it would wait until she feels better. She lost her lunch in the courtroom."
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. "We'll take care of the cleaning. Stay for dinner, Judge? It'll be ready in an hour."
"Yes, ma'am. I know it's against etiquette, but I'd like to stay up here with her until she awakens and feels a little better. You can send Polly in. I'd like to speak with her."
She nodded. "Of course."
Polly appeared, very subdued, and confessed what had happened in the empty courtroom.
Abel, watching Cicely's face, nodded. "I suspected just that. I think you should go down and tell your father what happened. He's worried. I have very little doubt that it was initiated by Miss Watson."
Polly stoppe
d at the door. "We were all responsible, sir."
He nodded. "Thank you, Mary Polly. I appreciate your saying that."
Cicely awakened in the room and was leaning back against the headboard, staring into the deepening shadows of the evening at the lantern light, when her mother and Polly entered. Her mother moved the lantern closer and sat down on the side of her bed, resting a hand on her forehead.
"You're still extremely pale, my darling. Abel is terribly concerned about you."
"Abel hates me. I know it."
"No." Polly reached out and took her hand. "He doesn't hate you. He's worried, that's all."
"He told me I was in deep trouble," she sighed. "Right before I got sick and left my lunch all over his courtroom." She gulped, remembering, and closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply.
Her mother rearranged the covers over her. "Polly and Phebe have already been down to clean it up," she said. "Then they mopped the floor with vinegar. It's all right."
"I've disappointed him." Cicely opened her eyes. "We were horrible, Mother." A tear crept out from under her lashes. "I'll never forget the look on his face."
She looked up suddenly to see Abel standing in the doorway, and a pained expression crossed her face.
Abel looked toward her mother. "You husband wishes to see you, ma'am. And then he wants to see Polly and Phebe, as well. Would it be all right for me to speak to your daughter alone?"
She nodded, frowning, and moved to the door.
"Please don't spank me right now," Cicely whispered, her face and her voice pleading.
He reached out, bringing his hand gently down her cheek. "I have no intention of doing that. Not tonight. But hear me, young lady, when I do, you'll remember it for a very long time. Understand me?"
"I will never do that again."
"No. When I finish with you, my darling. I promise, you won't."
She groaned.
His voice grew softer. "I have no plans to stay long. And I didn't come to scold you. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're recovering."
"What did Father say?"
Judging Cicely (Strasburg: The New Generation Book 1) Page 4
