Judging Cicely (Strasburg: The New Generation Book 1) Page 2

  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.

  Cicely remembered the way Abel had lifted her chin, earlier that day in Mr. Greene's store, and stared sternly down into her eyes. A delicious shiver worked its way from her neck down to her toes. His touch had always seemed to set off sparks inside her. It was as if nothing had changed.

  A shudder escaped and she went back to the window, just as she saw his straight, tall figure arrive on his horse. When he dismounted, she was completely certain she could not face him.

  Abel heard Mrs. Andrews' voice from inside the house.

  "Henson, can you get the door? I'll be right there. The roast needs to come out." A moment later, the sheriff opened the door.

  "Come in, Judge. You're early."

  "Am I? Just got back from Woodstock. I was afraid of being late. Good evening, Mrs. Andrews. And Mary Polly." He looked around. "You seem to be missing a daughter."

  Mrs. Andrews had just entered the drawing room, with Polly behind her, and she smiled. When he mentioned the missing daughter, she turned to Polly. "Where's Ciss?"

  Polly glanced at Abel. "She said something about not feeling well."

  Her mother looked concerned. "Welcome, Abel. I'll be right back. Perhaps I need to check on her."

  He nodded and followed Henson to sit down.

  Cicely turned as her mother entered the room.

  "Ciss? Are you not well?" Her mother's concerned eyes met hers.

  She looked up guiltily. "I'm all right, Mother. I just…" She blinked and shook her head. "I was just having second thoughts about seeing Abel again."

  Cinderella's head tilted to one side. "Because?"

  "Just…because." Cicely looked away.

  Her mother's brow knit. "I see. Well, he noticed you were missing. I suppose I could send him up to get you."

  Cicely's expression became incredulous, and her mother laughed and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "See you downstairs, darling. Or that's exactly what I'll do."

  "Mother!"

  At her protest, her mother turned toward the door, her mouth turned up at the corners.

  Cicely stared at her. Could she possibly know something happened last year between the two of them? Surely not.

  "I'll tell him you'll be right down," her mother said, grinning. "And dinner will be ready within just a few minutes."

  Cicely drug her feet on the two flights downstairs. The third floor had been the nursery when she and Polly were small. When they'd gone away to finishing school, Miss Emily, their governess, had taken another position, but the rooms had stayed on the same floor. Now, the journey down to the main floor seemed long and arduous, especially when Abel Carter was waiting at the bottom.

  Stopping at the door to the drawing room to see Polly motioning her in, she took a step inside.

  "Ah. Here's the wayward one." Her father grinned at her.

  The judge stood. "Evening, Miss Cicely. I trust you're feeling better?"

  "I'm fine," she said in a low voice. Noting her father's raised brow, she added, "Sir."

  Abel looked as though he was having difficulty hiding his mirth but said only, "That's good news."

  Dinner was full of wonderful food, as it always was with Miss Betsy there. Cicely found she'd been seated next to Abel, to her dismay, and she noticed that he glanced down at her frequently. The conversation, though it flowed well between Abel and her father and mother, was strained between Polly and herself. When dinner was finally over, she excused herself and went outside toward the stables in the back.

  She was gently touching the nuzzle of Sully, their oldest horse, when she heard the sound of footfalls. She closed her eyes.

  "Avoiding me?" Abel's deep voice spoke above her head.

  She refused to turn around, but paused, stroking Sully's ears. "Why should I be avoiding you?"

  "Perhaps because I bring up unpleasant memories for you."

  She listened to his voice, but couldn't tell if he was teasing or serious. She reached for a brush and began to use it on Sully's coat as he whinnied softly.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about." Her chin was lifted, her tone defiant.

  "Of course, you don't." He was teasing now, and he picked up another brush and approached Sully's other side. It was impossible for her to keep from seeing him. She moved toward Sully's shoulders.

  Abel did the same.

  Finally, the air whooshed out of her and she stomped her foot on the soft earth.

  "Abel Carter! You're mocking me."

  "And why would I do that?" His voice was gentle. "The truth is, Cicely, I've missed you. I looked for letters from you all year last year. But they never came."

  She gave him a reproachful look. "You mean you've missed toying with me. And threatening me. And I wasn't about to write you back after—" She paused. "You're mean, Abel."

  "Mean? You know better than that, young lady. As long as you behave yourself, you've nothing to worry about."

  She gave him an irritated glance.

  "Of course," he continued. "If you don't, that's another thing entirely."

  "Stop it."

  "I've even missed those little dimples you have when you show that mischievous smile."

  Cicely scowled.

  "Which," he said, raising a brow. "I haven't seen much of since you've been home this time. How long will you be here?"

  She looked away. "A month."

  "I'd like very much to see more of you this time."

  She moved toward Sully's hind flank.

  He did the same, his mouth turning up at the corners. "May I pick you up before Mass on Sunday morning?"

  "I don't know. I'll have to ask permission."

  "I already have."

  She stared up into his face. "What?"

  "You heard me. Unless you prefer to go to your mother. I spoke with your father."

  She finished brushing Sully and set the brush down.

  "Besides, we have company arriving on Saturday. Phebe is coming to say until the end of the holiday."

  "Then I'd be happy to escort her, too."

  She scowled. "I'm sure you would."

  When his hands descended on her shoulders, she realized he had moved around behind her. He turned her to face him, lifting her chin. His face had lost its smile.

  "And what does that mean, young lady?"

  "Nothing, it's just that I…" She lowered her gaze. "Nothing."

  Abel's arms reached around her and pulled her to him, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "I'd rather escort you alone. But if the only way I can spend time with you is to have her along, I'll take it. Understand me?"

  It suddenly felt so good to have his arms around her. It was like old times. She brought hers around him as far as she could and closed her eyes, smiling. "I understand."

  "Good. Then behave. I don't expect to hear any more comments about Phebe."

  She raised her head, and he smiled down. "You have the most beautiful eyes, Cicely Andrews."

  "And yours are terrifying when you're angry with me."

  His expression was surprised. "Not terrifying, surely. And I don't think I've ever been truly angry with you. Perturbed, perhaps."

  Her eyes widened. "Not even last year, when—" Her face became a deep shade of crimson, and she looked down, blinking with embarrassment.

  Abel brought her face back to his and leaned down, kissing her nose.

  "No. Not even then."

  She wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly, his mouth was on hers. His pleasant, clean, masculine scent drew her closer, and she closed her eyes in delight. When the familiar signal of the lantern in the back window of the house appeared, she sighed with regret and looked up.

  "Father is
signaling for me to come in." Giving him a mischievous grin, she chuckled. "The sheriff is telling the judge what to do." Walking around to Sully's beautiful white head, she leaned forward and kissed his nose. "Sully," she whispered. "You are beautiful." Then she stood up as tall as she could and stared at Abel, tilting her head. "And Abel?"

  He looked down at her, grinning. "Yes?"

  "You're hopeless." She turned on her heel abruptly and marched back to the house, leaving him to follow her back inside, laughing.

  The Visitor

  Miss Phebe Watson arrived at two o'clock Saturday afternoon in the midst of a roaring thunderstorm. Cicely's father had come home to help Phebe with her trunks. Cicely stood just inside the drawing room, waiting and watching out the window for her. Polly had stubbornly refused to come down.

  In spite of herself, Cicely was eager to see her. Phebe was a very friendly and fun person, and the things they had done at finishing school had been the talk of the school. The other girls thought their skits and pranks were hilarious, even though the staff and the teachers didn't.

  However, things had changed a bit. Cicely had decided she'd been in trouble enough at the hands of Phebe at home. It was time to make it plain that the pranks had to stop. She would wait until the subject came up, but she was determined. She wanted Abel to see a new side of her this year, one that was innocent. One that he could respect.

  A huge clap of thunder hit, and she jumped. The downpour that followed was heavy. But she could see Phebe's father's coach in the distance.

  "I hope this isn't an omen of things to come," she muttered under her breath.

  Her father looked down at her, his mouth quirked up on one side. "That's exactly what your mother just said," he said. "Is there something I don't know? Polly seems to think Phebe was just coming to see Abel."

  Cicely opened her mouth to speak. However, the coach had pulled up in front of the house. Before the coachman could get down to help her out, Phebe had jumped to the ground and run up to the front door. The sheriff hurried to open it.

  He barely managed it before Phebe flew past him, then past Cicely, as well.

  "The bathroom!" she hissed as she went down the hallway toward the right and disappeared.

  Cicely laughed. Phebe had not changed at all and she probably never would.

  Cinderella called the girls down for tea at three. Phebe had made herself at home on Polly's bed and announced she wanted that one to sleep on.

  "Sorry, Phebe. I think Mother has you in a different room this time. The blue room," Polly said, smiling.

  "I wondered why I hadn't seen my trunks brought in. I can't sleep in here with you all? Why not?"

  Cicely grinned at her. "I think it might have something to do with the fact that none of us slept the last time you visited. It was Mother's decision, not ours. Besides." She took a deep breath and continued, "There are some changes this time. There are to be no more pranks. Not on Mother, Father, Miss Betsy, and not on Polly or me." She nodded at Phebe's wide eyes. "And there are to be no pranks on the people of Strasburg."

  Phebe raised a brow. "Does that include Abel?"

  Cicely's voice was as soft as she could make it. "Umm, it's like this. Abel is the judge here now. You can do it at your own peril. And if it becomes a legal problem, you'll stand in his court. And possibly go to my father's jail."

  Phebe scowled, first at Cicely, then at Polly. "When did you two cease to be entertaining? I know we played a few the last time I was here, and it was great fun."

  "For you. Not for Mrs. Emmons, certainly. And not for me."

  A smile played across Phebe's mouth, and Cicely stared at her. Her eyes narrowed into a frown and she said, softly, "If you don't agree, Father is prepared to explain it to you. It must be understood that the first one you pull will get you sent back home."

  Phebe leaned backward. "Whoa. You're serious," she scowled. "Aren't you? If you didn't want me to come, why didn't you tell me?"

  Cicely came very close to telling her that there hadn't been time. But she didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath.

  "It's not that we don't want you here, Phebe. It's just that this is our home and our family. Even the people of Strasburg are family to us. It's not fun to see them hurt by things you think are funny."

  Phebe looked from one to the other. "I see."

  The bell called them for tea, and the twins rose. "Tea is ready. Miss Betsy promised to have a special treat. Ready?"

  A beautiful smile flashed across Phebe's face. "Ready."

  Phebe seemed very polite and reserved as tea was served. Even Cicely's mother seemed to think so. She and Polly, however, watched their mischievous friend thoughtfully, sure that she had something planned. They had been her partners in crime too long to think otherwise. It was the same at dinner. Cicely and Polly exchanged glances a few times.

  "What time does Mass start in the morning?" Phebe asked, when dinner was over. "Mrs. Andrews, may I help you clear the table and do the dishes?"

  Cinderella smiled. "No, Phebe, not tonight. But thank you. You've had a big day and I know you must be tired. Mass starts at nine, but Abel will be here to escort Cicely about 8:30."

  "Then I suppose I had better get my beauty sleep." Phebe's smile at Cicely was knowing. Her voice, however, had a demure tone to it. "I certainly don't wish Abel to see me looking exhausted." With that, she bounced up the steps and toward her room.

  Polly looked toward her sister as they rose to help clear the table. But Cinderella leaned toward them both and said softly, "I think you two had better go on to your room and keep an eye on things."

  Polly leaned up on tip-toe and kissed her mother's cheek. "That's a very good idea, Mother. I half expected to find the bed short-sheeted when we went up."

  Neither of them said much until they got to their room and closed the door.

  Cicely stood there, eyeing it for a moment after they'd pushed it to and heard it click. "Polly? Are you thinking—"

  "That we'd better put something in front of the door? Yes."

  Both of them moved together and silently picked up the Queen Anne chair in the corner and set it down in front of the door, so it couldn't be opened without a struggle.

  Cicely scowled. "I don't wish to wake up with a face full of lathered soap or cat whiskers drawn on my face with ink." She stared back at the door, frowning, as they moved toward the wardrobe and took out their nightgowns.

  "I'm thinking something else, too." Polly's voice was flat as she glanced toward her twin.

  "She wants Abel," Cicely replied.

  Polly nodded grimly. "Exactly."

  A knock sounded on the door at eight-thirty-five Sunday morning, followed by a loud thump.

  "Girls? Open up. I can't get the door open." It was their mother's voice.

  Cicely opened one eye, seeing the blue chair. "Oh. Be right there." She shoved back the cover and padded over to the door, tugging it away. The complaint of the chair legs being drug across the wooden floor didn't matter this morning.

  "Sorry, Mother. What time is it?"

  "It's almost twenty before nine. I rang at seven. Did you not hear the bell?"

  Cicely looked toward her sister. Both of them shook their heads as she gasped and asked, "Is Abel here already?"

  "Yes, he came early. And strangely, Phebe came down early, as well." She looked from one to the other. "It's odd that neither of you heard the bell. Hurry. Abel is anxious to see you, Ciss. But Phebe is all but begging him to go ahead and take her on to Mass." She started to leave and then peered back. "And why did you have the chair up against the door? Wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

  Cicely's face was crestfallen at the news that Abel might not wait. Her mother recognized that look and merely tucked her head back inside the door.

  "I'll see what I can do. But hurry."

  It wasn't necessary. The girls were washing up and throwing on clothes as quickly as they could, muttering and finishing each other's sentences, much as they had since
they were small girls.

  "You don't think—"

  "Of course I do, you dolt."

  But she'd have to—"

  "I know, but do you think that would stop her?"

  "Not in the slightest."

  "I'm glad you agree with me. It only makes sense."

  "Just because I agree doesn't mean—"

  "Oh, be quiet."

  They were still chattering as they descended the last of the steps downstairs. When they entered the drawing room, Abel was seated in front of the hearth and their mother was watching them, grinning.

  "Still at it?" Abel's mouth had a distinct quirk at one corner.

  "Still at what?" Cicely scanned the room. "Where is Phebe?"

  "Your father insisted on taking her. Come in and have breakfast. You too, Judge."

  "Yes, ma'am. I would be delighted." His grin down at Cicely was telling.

  At least, she hoped so.

  Tampering With the Bell Pull

  Cicely thought Phebe had a face as guilty as sin itself when she returned home with Sheriff Andrews. It was also full of anger. She was very careful to hide it when others were looking, but her expression toward Cicely was almost accusatory. Cicely responded with an attempt at a smile but was surprised.

  It was the sheriff who looked around the table as they finished eating lunch. His eyes rested on Abel. "Judge, why don't we go up to the attic and take a look at the wires for the bell-pull to see what happened? It's an annoyance to have to climb two sets of stairs to ask the girls to come down or call them for tea or meals."

  "Be happy to." Abel nodded and then rose from the table to follow him, saying a word of thanks for the meal. "I'm anxious to see what caused it to fail." But before he left, he gazed down at Cicely. "And Cicely, I would like very much to take you for a ride this afternoon, if it's agreeable with your father and with you? Mazy is craving a good trot."

  "Absolutely," her father said with a grin.

  A look of eager delight caused Cicely's face to light up. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

  Phebe spoke up before he left the room, however. "If it's all right, Abel, may I accompany you?"