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  Judging Cicely

  Strasburg: The New Generation, Book One

  Pippa Greathouse

  Blushing Books

  ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Pippa Greathouse

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  Pippa Greathouse

  Judging Cicely

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-397-6

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Contents

  What’s Inside

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  1. Coming Home

  2. The Visitor

  3. Tampering With the Bell Pull

  4. Telling the Truth

  5. Tea Rooms and Cigars

  6. Smoke and Sickness

  7. Plans and Changes of Plans

  8. Reckonings

  9. Preparations

  10. Frowns and Tears

  11. Time Together

  12. The Ceremony

  13. Intervention

  14. Awakening to Kisses

  15. Late for Sunday Mass

  16. An Invitation

  17. Polly and Geoffrey Francis

  18. Polly's Return to School

  19. Racing to Save Polly

  20. A Person of Authority

  21. Phebe Begs for Help

  22. Fight!

  23. The Proceedings

  24. Setting Bail

  25. Comeuppances

  26. The Sentencing

  27. Unexpected News

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  Abel was on her in an instant, his arm about her waist. He had lifted her off her feet before she even knew it and hauled her back into the kitchen.

  "Abel! Put me down! You don't understand!"

  "I understand you are out of control, young lady. Calm yourself." His deep voice in her ear tried to get her attention. He didn't feel like he had accomplished it.

  "No!"

  Abel took her to the far end of the kitchen and pinned her to the wall, one hand on either side of her head.

  Immediately, she tried to duck under his arm, and he moved his hands under her arms and pushed her back against the wall with his hard body.

  "Cicely Allison Carter." He leaned in close. His tone and voice were carefully controlled, but he was punctuating every syllable, now. "Unless you calm down this instant, I'll borrow a wooden spoon, and every person in this kitchen will witness you having your bottom paddled. Do you understand me?"

  Her face began to crumple and tears began to fall. "But—s-she tried to sabotage our wedding! And she caused Miss Hazel and Miss Constance so much trouble—and—" She leaned into his chest.

  Abel straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

  "Look at me, sweetheart."

  It took a moment before she actually heard him, but finally, she looked up.

  Abel's voice was gentler now. "Did she succeed?"

  "No."

  "Excuse us." Nick's voice filled the room. Abel didn't release Cicely but did turn to look at him.

  Nick was standing beside them, holding Phebe in front of him. "I believe," he said, over her head. "Miss Watson has an apology to make."

  The room grew quiet. All eyes were on Phebe, with her stooped shoulders and crimson face.

  She paused, looking up at Nick with pleading eyes.

  "Go ahead," he said firmly. "Now."

  Phebe glanced up at Miss Hazel and then Miss Constance, standing next to her. "I'm sorry. I sort of told these ladies that we would not be needing the food and…" She looked down. "The cake."

  "Sort of?" Nick's voice interrupted her.

  "I did say that," she said slowly. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Cicely."

  Cicely swallowed hard. "It's Miss Hazel, Miss Constance, and the staff that you should apologize to. How could you?"

  Her voice was rising, and Abel leaned down into her ear. "Cicely," his voice dropped in pitch and held warning.

  Phebe looked up at them. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

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  Coming Home

  Tuesday, September 5, 1876

  Mr. Greene stood behind the counter, chatting with a customer, when Cicely Andrews entered the store. "As I live and breathe," he said, stopping mid-sentence and staring. "Is it Mary Polly or Cissy?"

  Cicely's mischievous green eyes narrowed and she gave him a wide grin.

  "Mr. Greene." She tilted her head a bit sideways. "It's Polly. And, how are you?"

  The older gentlemen leaned back, eyeing her suspiciously. "Are you sure?

  Cicely huffed out a sigh. "You don't believe me? I'm hurt, Mr. Greene."

  He chuckled softly. "As long as you stay away from the peppermints in the window."

  "Oh, for Pete's sake. I was six years old when I—" She halted. "And it wasn't me. It was my sister."

  Mr. Green glanced at the customer who stood behind her. She started to turn to see who it was, but at the same time, the bell on the front door tinkled and another young woman entered. Cicely turned to see her twin sister, throwing her a knowing glance.

  "Hello, Cissy."

  The young woman stopped, looking from Mr. Greene to her sister. Putting on a smile, she said, "Hello. And hello, Mr. Greene. Mother sent me down to get some red ribbon. Grosgrain."

  "Good Lord. Both of them
." His eyes crinkled at the corners and he grasped the edge of the counter for support. "Look, Judge."

  "I am," said an extremely deep voice from behind Cicely.

  Her twin stared toward her, shooting her a knowing glance with wide eyes, and Cicely abruptly turned around to see the gentleman who had spoken. She looked up, up, and still further upward, as he moved closer to her and reached out to put two fingers under her chin, lifting her face further to study her.

  She froze as she forced herself to look into the narrowed blue eyes of Abel Carter.

  When he spoke again, his distinctly familiar voice made her tingle, remembering their last encounter.

  "I am indeed. And," he added. "I would suggest that you think twice about pulling any childish pranks on the citizens of Strasburg this time." He paused, looking from one to the other. "Otherwise, you may just end up facing me in court." His gaze lit again on the girl in front of him.

  "Good day, Cicely Allison," he said sternly.

  Cicely could not help the crimson shade that flooded her face. She looked down, her chin quivering slightly.

  He stood there a moment longer, still lifting her chin and then let her go, turning toward her sister. "And good day to you, Mary Polly."

  Reaching for the door handle, he nodded to Mr. Greene and left.

  "Abel Carter," Polly breathed, as she watched him go. "The firm and fair judge of Shenandoah County."

  Cicely nodded, frowning, and they both shook their heads as they watched him turn right and make his way down the street toward the sheriff's office.

  "Yes. He always could tell us apart."

  Judge Abel Carter strode down the street, turned toward the sheriff's office, and looked in through the window. Sheriff Henson Andrews sat at his desk, in the midst of a pile of papers, sorting through them.

  Henson looked up as Abel entered. "Afternoon, Judge."

  Abel grinned. "You do realize you can drop the 'Judge', Sheriff."

  "And you can drop the 'Sheriff,' Judge." Henson answered with a chuckle. He reached for a swig of coffee and held up his mug. "Can I get you some coffee? When the jail's full, the coffee never has a chance to get old."

  "Please." Abel watched as Henson stood, preparing to go into the back, and waited until he returned with a fresh mug in his left hand. "Have any new cases? In addition to tomorrow's?"

  Henson turned the mug so the handle protruded outward to hand to him.

  "Yep." He pulled out an envelope from his drawer and handed it across, saying quietly, "Three new ones—found rustling cattle out at Pembroke. I'd like to schedule them tomorrow morning, too, if possible."

  "It's possible." Abel nodded and put it into the pocket inside his vest.

  "Cinderella said to invite you for dinner this Friday evening. The girls are home for a few weeks before their last year of school starts."

  "I just saw them in the General Store."

  "Ah. You don't look pleased. I hope they weren't up to their old tricks."

  "Changing places? As a matter of fact…" Abel paused to take a sip of the steaming brew. "I threatened them both."

  "Threatened them?" Henson threw his head back in laughter. "Good for you. With what?"

  Abel didn't answer. He raised a brow, and Henson laughed again. "They both should hang around you a while, Judge. Perhaps they would learn to behave themselves a little better."

  "Abel." He finished his coffee and set the cup down on the desk.

  Henson smiled. "Abel. Five thirty, Friday?"

  "I'll be there."

  Thursday, September 7th, 1876

  Cicely was in the library perusing the shelves. Her fingers had drifted across her mother's section of books by Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen and lit on a new copy of The Innocents Abroad, by Mark Twain. She loved the smell of new books, the scent of the leather, the way it felt in her hand. She had just picked it up and had turned the first few pages appreciatively when Polly burst into the room.

  Cicely's fingers stilled abruptly. "You don't look very pleased. What is it?"

  "This." Polly tossed an envelope onto the desk and went to sit in her father's swivel chair.

  Cicely met her eyes. She set the leather volume down on the ledge and wandered over to pick up the envelope.

  "Who's it from?"

  Polly's expression was withering. "The queen."

  Cicely laughed out loud at her sister's sarcasm and reached for it, ripping it open, her expression of mirth the direct opposite of her sister's scowl. Polly looked on as Cicely began to read.

  Her mouth turned down at the corners. "Phebe."

  Polly let out an exaggerated sigh. "Let me guess. She wants to come for a visit."

  "Of course." Cicely's head tilted. "You don't want her to, either?"

  "You know the only reason she comes is to see Abel. She wants to take him away from you."

  It was Cicely's turn to sigh. "Polly, I have no claim on Abel. Not anymore."

  "But she does this every year. Can we not have at least one month of vacation with our family, without her? It's bad enough we have to put up with her eleven months out of the year."

  Cicely read the letter through again and dropped it in Polly's lap. "Do you want to write her and tell her she can't come?"

  "I may talk to Mother and see if she'll give me permission to refuse. We could always make up something. We have other company coming."

  "The last time I checked, the queen was busy. And if you decide to do that, you'd better hurry. She'll be here Saturday."

  Polly groaned. "Phebe was here last year when—" She paused abruptly, staring at her sister. "—when you got in trouble with Abel." She stood there, staring, and her mouth flattened into a straight line.

  Cicely didn't answer.

  Polly stomped her foot. "Damn!" She rose from the chair and left the library, tossing the letter back on the edge of the desk and slamming the door.

  Cicely stood there, staring at the letter. Finally, she sighed.

  Polly's suspicion was true.

  It was four-thirty on Friday afternoon. Cicely was upstairs in their old bedroom on the third story of the Andrews' house, pacing and muttering under her breath.

  "I can't believe Mother invited Abel Carter over for dinner. Of all people."

  "Actually, I think it was Father who invited him."

  Cicely stopped and stared. "So? It was Mother's idea. I think I'll be sick and not go down."

  "You can't."

  "I believe I can."

  "Cicely, what's happened to you? Last year, you would never have objected to him visiting."

  "That was last year."

  Polly was eyeing her with suspicion. "What happened since then? All you told me was that you got into trouble with Abel. The last time I remember us seeing him was when you—" Polly stopped suddenly. "He's been threatening to take you in hand since we were children. He finally carried it out, didn't he?" She waited for Cicely's response. When her sister said nothing, she added, "That's it. Isn't it?"

  Cicely turned toward the window. "I don't wish to talk about it."

  Polly stared at her. "I don't suppose you do, no." She sighed.

  "Polly!" Cicely's voice was short.

  Polly threw up her hands. "All right!" She turned away. "All right, whatever you say." She wandered through the doorway and turned back. "And I knew it was Phebe's fault. I'd offer to change places with you tonight, but it wouldn't work. Not with Abel."

  Cicely stayed quiet, staring out the window until Polly descended the staircase toward the drawing room. Then she sighed. "How well I know."

  She was strongly considering sending a message down that she was sick. Her face filled with crimson when she remembered the last time Phebe had visited. Cicely had allowed her friend to talk her into playing a prank on Mrs. Emmons, a former schoolteacher who was known for being extremely absent minded. She had brought out several small packages and gone back into the General Store, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. Phebe had kept watch, and Cicely h
ad moved the packages around to a different spot on the wagon, disappearing and hiding between St. Mary's and the building next door. Then she peeked her head out to watch.

  Mrs. Emmons had come back out, set her last package down, and looked for the others. As she stood there, obviously confused and distraught, she'd turned. Cicely had begun to feel terrible. It was then that she turned and looked up into Abel's stern face.

  He had not been amused in the slightest. In fact, he'd taken her around the back of the St. Mary's and put her over his knee. He'd seen the whole thing, telling her that it was far past time for her to grow up, and if she insisted on behaving like a child, he would insist on spanking her like one.

  She'd been too upset and embarrassed to admit he was right. And she'd had too much trouble sitting down, afterwards. She, who told her sister, Polly, everything, had never mentioned the spanking to anyone. But Phebe knew. It was hard to believe, even now, that Polly had figured it out. All three girls had left to return to school the next day, and although Abel had sent letters during the school year, she'd never responded to any of them. She was determined never to speak to him again.

  Phebe had thought the incident extremely funny. Cicely had remained heartbroken all year long, sure that she'd lost Abel's affection forever.

  She sat down at the vanity, surprised at how her bottom tingled at the memory, and stared at herself in the mirror. Long chestnut curls and green eyes, just like her mother's, stared back at her. Polly, of course, had exactly the same coloring and shape. Their big brother, Thomas, had inherited their father's brown eyes, dark hair and strong jaw.