The woman's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I know you are mistress of the house now and you may not want my services any longer."
Cicely stared at her a moment. Suddenly, she threw her arms about Mrs. Morgan's neck. "Oh, no, ma'am. You're wrong. I can't possibly tell you how much I need you to stay."
The housekeeper looked shocked. Cicely took her hands and spoke more confidently this time, "Mrs. Morgan, I can't cook. I know nothing about keeping house. I can dust, but not much else. My sister and I cleaned our rooms, but we had a housekeeper, too." She stopped. "Abel and I will always need you here. Please don't think otherwise. If there is anything you can do to help me learn how to keep house, I would appreciate it more than you know." She bit her lip, and then said quietly, "You see, I know nothing about what wives are supposed to do."
Relief flooded Mrs. Morgan's face and she smiled. "You can't cook? Oh, darlin'. I'll do my best to help you learn. And I apologize again."
"No need, Mrs. Morgan." Her breath caught and she looked up uncertainly. " And I have another favor to ask. I'd like to invite my sister, Polly, and Geoffrey Wellington to dinner on Thursday night. I wondered if you would cook it for us?"
"Not only that, I'll stay and serve it. It will be your first meal to entertain, won't it? We'll do it up fancy, darlin'." For the first time, she smiled.
Cicely was grinning as she left the house. She'd made peace with the housekeeper. Had she not stayed and confronted her, it might not have happened.
She opened the door to the sheriff's office as she passed by and backed out again. A lady was there, trying to argue her case before Cicely's father with Mrs. Baxter, the owner of the boarding house, who was interrupting regularly. The sheriff was sitting there looking from one to the other. He had not even noticed her. As she passed the window, she waved toward him but was unsure if he saw her.
When she reached her parents' house, she entered.
"Hello, Mother! Polly, Phebe!"
She heard shuffling from the kitchen, and her mother entered, looking distressed. "She's gone."
Cicely looked alarmed. "Polly?"
"Phebe. She decided she didn't want to go back to school. And she said she didn't want to stay here anymore. I think she may have gone to the dormitory. If she didn't, I have no idea where she went." Her mother threw her hands up. "Your father is going to be so upset with me. Phebe and I got into a terrible argument this morning. But even after she mentioned she wanted to leave, I didn't realize she was serious. I don't know what to do, Ciss. And I just now, an hour ago, realized she was gone. I suppose I should go to the sheriff's office and find your father—"
"He's in the middle of a squabble, mother. Mrs. Baxter and another lady—I don't remember who—were bickering, in front of him, when I passed. This might not be a good time. May I go and see if I can find her?"
"Take Polly with you. I'll stay here until your father comes home."
Polly began her descent down the stairs just then, and they both looked up. She had her cloak on. "Her trunks are missing, Mother. And all her clothes."
Cicely nodded. "Perhaps we should start at the dormitory, then? And we'll come back and let you know what we find."
Abigail, Louisa's daughter, answered the door to the dormitory.
"Polly and Cissy! Come in. How can I help you?"
Cicely waited until the door closed behind them. "Phebe Watson, from home, has left. And we thought she might have come here." She looked at Abigail, waiting. The door opened from the parlor to the main room and Louisa entered.
"You're looking for Phebe? She was here. Actually, she came this morning, but we didn't have any openings then."
Cicely looked toward her sister. "Then?"
"Yes. A bed became empty just after she left. Another lady decided suddenly to leave. I wish I could tell you where Miss Watson went, but I honestly don't have any idea."
Abigail nodded. "Mother warned her about Mrs. Baxter and how she takes advantage of females who board at her house, by making them pay more and expecting them to do extra work.
Louisa nodded. "She did that to me, just before I came to work here. She expected more money and wanted me to do the cooking, but refused to take anything off my rent for it. I tried to tell your friend, but she wasn't listening. If you see her, please let her know I do have a bed available now."
Next, they looked into the Tea Room to see if she was there. No Phebe.
"Shall we go town to see if Father is still at the office?" Polly pointed across the street and down a block, and Cicely nodded.
The sheriff, however, had left a few moments earlier, according to Josh.
Polly glanced at her. "Do you think she could have gone to Mrs. Baxter's?"
Cicely's face screwed up in thought. "If she did, she won't stay long. Let's go."
Mrs. Baxter came to the door with a frown on her face. "Ah. The sheriff's girls. If you've come for a room, we're all out."
"We didn't. We came to see if Miss Phebe Watson is here." Cicely's forced her voice to be strong.
Mrs. Baxter tapped an impatient toe on the floor. "And what makes it your business?"
Polly was becoming rapidly put out. "Because she left the house without telling anyone, and we're worried about her."
Mrs. Baxter opened the door and motioned toward the kitchen. "See for yourself."
Phebe halted abruptly when she saw them. She was standing over a large Dutch oven and was dipping out stew into bowls and setting them before the men sitting at the table. She stared at them for only a few seconds and then turned and set one of the bowls down, picking up another. "And what are you staring at?" Her expression was stony.
"We wondered if we could speak to you," Cicely said quietly.
"I have nothing at all to say to you." Phebe gave them a half-hearted shrug and turned her back on them.
"Satisfied?" Mrs. Baxter had folded her arms.
Polly turned toward the front door. "Let's go, Cissy."
The sheriff met them, coming out of the telegraph office.
"We found her, Father. She's at Mrs. Baxter's."
He nodded. I saw her go in an hour ago. Looked like she'd hired someone to carry her trunks. When she didn't come out, I knew. I just sent a telegram to her father. We can only hope her parents are back from whatever trip they took. Your mother doesn't need to be responsible for her any longer. If I'd known she would be causing this much difficulty, I would have just paid her return trip and sent her home when she got here." He sighed. He looked weary, Cicely thought.
"Did you eat while you were home?" she asked gently. "If not, please come back with us?"
He looked down at them. Finally, he nodded. "Out of the mouths of babes," he said softly and held out an arm to each one.
Polly and Geoffrey Francis
Mrs. Morgan was ready with a delicious meal when Polly arrived on the arm of Geoffrey Francis, Thursday evening. Abel answered the door, shaking the hand of his old friend vigorously.
"Welcome to the home you built. Come in."
"I didn't do too badly, did I?"
"You did well. Cicely loves it."
"Ah. Then I should have charged you more."
"Too late. The statute of limitations has run out. Have a seat."
Cicely grabbed Polly's arm and took her on a tour of the house. She exclaimed over its elegance, and like Cicely, she loved the upstairs dormer.
Abel turned to Geoffrey as they disappeared up the steps. "Geoff, my friend? I don't think we should leave them alone too long. They'll both be sobbing at being separated this week."
"Polly is already grieving. I can tell."
Abel's mouth was grim. "So is my wife."
"And Miss Watson is staying here in Strasburg." Geoffrey was shaking his head. "Something is very wrong with that." He looked toward the door, where Mrs. Morgan was standing, and Abel turned back to see her and smiled.
"I believe we've lost our girls, Millie. We'll be right back."
"Y
es, sir. Dinner is ready to serve any time."
They found Polly and Cicely holding on to each other at the top of the stairs on the third floor. Abel pulled Cicely forward, as Geoffrey reached for Polly. Both girls were tearful.
"Sweetheart, are you all right?" Abel whispered.
"No." she whispered. "I can't bear for her to go away."
He drew Cicely into his arms. "Shh, my darling. She'll be back. And if she wants to stay here for the next two days, you can spend that time together."
Polly looked up eagerly. "May I?"
"As long as she will share you with me," Geoffrey said. "I intend to take advantage of my time with you, too."
Saturday morning, Cicely watched sadly as her father loaded up Polly's things into the closed carriage at the house and encouraged them to say goodbye. Her mother was already inside the carriage, and Polly gave her twin one last hug. Geoffrey gave Polly a quick kiss on the mouth before lifting her inside.
"Goodbye, Pollyanna. Make good grades. I'll see you at Christmas, if not before. Write me?"
When she gave him a tearful smile, he nodded and stepped back.
The sheriff hugged Cicely. "Your mother and I will be back by tomorrow night." He jumped up into the carriage and they waved goodbye.
Polly, however, looked out the window sadly, for as long as she could see them. Cicely glanced up at Geoffrey, thinking he appeared almost as sad as her twin.
"Geoff? Come to the house for lunch?"
Geoffrey shook his head. "I'll have to get back. Nick is looking over the books, and I need to point out some things to him. I think he's more involved in thinking about Miss Watson than he is worrying about the property." He rolled his eyes and waved goodbye.
It was as they were going home that Abel leaned over toward her. "Speaking of Miss Watson," he whispered. "She's watching you."
She looked up. "Where? Oh, I see her."
He was right. Phebe was sitting on the front steps of Mrs. Baxter's, glaring toward her. Her arms were crossed on top of her knees, and she leaned forward.
"I wonder what's wrong. She doesn't look happy."
"No. She doesn't. And whatever is up her sleeve, don't allow her drag you into it. Do you understand me?"
She looked up, shocked. "Why would I do that? I haven't seen her since the wedding."
"Because I know you." He raised a brow. "She's already gotten you into too much trouble since she's been here. You have a huge and tender heart, my love. She knows that. And she's not above exploiting that trait in you."
She sighed. "Yes. I'll be careful."
"Good." He pulled up in front of the house and lifted her down, taking her inside. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I need to run by the sheriff's office and see Zeke." He leaned down and kissed her. "Be good."
She scowled. "I'm always good."
He gave her a playful smack to her bottom, before moving toward the door. "Hmm."
Cicely watched him go, frowning, from the window. Mrs. Morgan wasn't here on Saturdays or Sundays, but she'd left dishes for them to have for lunch and supper, both days. All it needed was heating up, and Cicely knew how to do that. She was on her way into the kitchen, when she heard a soft tapping sound. Turning, she returned to the drawing room.
When she heard it again, she went to the foyer.
"Phebe? It's you! Come in."
"I can't stay. Cissy, I need your help."
A wary look overtook Cicely's face. "What's wrong?"
"I moved out too quickly. Mrs. Baxter is being terribly unfair, and I don't have the money to move anywhere else. I paid three months' rent, ahead. Don't stare at me."
"What do you want me to do? Polly and I came the other day to tell you there was a bed open in the dormitory, and you refused to speak to us."
"There's a bed there now?"
"Yes. There was."
"Mrs. Baxter insists I cook the meals and serve. But she's not paying me. Or cutting any off my rent."
"That isn't new, Phebe. She's done that to every unsuspecting lady who's ever rented from her."
"Why didn't someone tell me?"
"Louisa told you, before you left the dormitory. She said you wouldn't listen."
Phebe put a hand to her head. "I don't remember it. Honest, Cissy, you must help me."
"Phebe, what do you want from me?"
"I'm not asking for money. I just want you to get Abel to make Mrs. Baxter stop doing this. I only know how to cook one thing, and we've had it every meal. Now, she's upset with me for that."
Cicely sighed. "I'll speak to him. But unless you're willing to press charges and take her to court, I doubt there's much he can do legally."
"But he's the judge!"
"Phebe! He can't make up the laws as he goes along. He has to abide by them. There's a legal process that must be followed."
Phebe stomped a foot angrily. "I should have known better than to come to you!" She turned, in tears, and left in the direction she had come.
Cicely watched her go, not knowing what to say. She could tell Abel, but that's all she could do. She walked back to the kitchen, lit the stove, and pulled an earthenware container of beef and rice from the icebox, setting it inside the oven. She was sitting at the table, leaning her chin on her hand, when she looked up to see him standing in the doorway, frowning.
"Phebe's been here. She was leaving just as I turned the corner. What did she want?"
"She wanted my help to get her out of Mrs. Baxter's boarding house. I don't know what to do to help her."
He sat down at the table with her and lifted her over into his lap. "What's happening? Besides the fact that Mrs. Baxter is probably overcharging her and making her work extra?"
"You knew that?"
"It's what she does every time. Unfortunately, the ladies she overcharges as tenants have never yet—not one single time—gotten a copy of the rent agreement. Not once. If they would, it would be easy enough for them to take her to court.
"Phebe probably doesn't have one, either."
"Did you ask her?"
"No. I didn't think of it."
He mussed her hair, and she scowled at him. "My dear little wife, let me tell you this. If I even suspect that you're trying to get involved in this, you'll be in an enormous amount of trouble." He lifted her chin. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes. But I really felt sorry for her. I hoped maybe—" She blinked and sighed.
Abel kissed the top of her head. "My darling, I don't make the law. Nor does your father. If Phebe wants to take Mrs. Baxter to court, she'll have to press charges. But unless she has a document to back up her story, I don't think there is anything anyone will be able to do. I'm not trying to indicate that I doubt what she's saying. I believe it. But no one can prove it unless there's a copy of the rent agreement. Let me think it over for a few days, but, sweetheart, that woman knows the law as well as we do. She owns her house, free and clear."
She sighed. "So we're stuck."
"No," he said, his voice lowering. "Phebe is stuck. You have no business being involved in this situation. As I said, let me think on it a few days." He eyed her a moment. "Mrs. Baxter did this to your mother, too. Or so I've heard."
Her eyes widened. "She did?"
"According to your father." He looked up. "Something smells good. Is lunch in the oven?"
Polly's Return to School
Sadly, Polly watched her parents pull away in the carriage and sat down on the steps of the women's hall, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her bags were inside the front door.
Being separated from her twin was like having her heart ripped out. Why didn't she refuse to come back to school, just as Phebe had? Could she have refused? The past few days, being with Geoffrey Francis was heavenly. There were moments where she had thought… No. she had no reason to think anything of the sort. Geoffrey had not made any overtures to her. If he had decided he wished to marry her, he'd not made it plain. He'd seemed sad to see her go, and he'd seemed to enjoy her company
the last week she was home. He'd even held her in his arms when he and Abel had come up to the third floor of her sister's new home and found them hugging each other and crying. But that was all.
She straightened her shoulders and sighed. She would have two new roommates within a day or two. She hoped they were friendly, not pompous like some girls here.
"Mary Polly. Come inside. You cannot sit here and fritter away your time when there is work to be done. Your trunks are in your room."
Polly sighed. "Yes, Miss Ta—Tuttle," she said, catching herself. Almost, she'd referred to her as 'Miss Tattletale', as she and Cicely and Phebe often did. She heaved a silent sigh as she walked toward the long hallway to her room.
She had one new girl in her room, who looked up at her with doe-like brown eyes when she entered.
Polly smiled at her. "Hello. Mary Polly Andrews. And you are?"
"Jenny Abbott." The girl seemed quiet. Polly smiled at her.
"Hello, Jenny. Is it just the two of us?"
A silent nod of the girl's head answered, her eyes on Polly as she plopped down on the bed. When Polly glanced at her again, Jenny had tears in her eyes.
"Are you homesick?"
"Yes." It was barely a whisper.
Polly smiled, ruefully. "So am I. I've never been apart from my twin sister, and I miss her terribly." She sat up on the side of the bed. "Are you all right?"
Jenny stared at her with wide eyes. "They said you were—"
Polly tilted her head. "I was what? And who are they?"
"Mean. That you played pranks on people. They said to look out."
Polly scooted back against the headboard. "That was mostly Phebe. She didn't come back this year, either. It's just me, and you needn't worry about me. I'm too lonely to pull anything."
They eyed each other for a moment. The girl looked so young, Polly thought.
"How old are you, Jenny?"
"Sixteen."
Polly looked confused. "Then, why did they put you in here? Shouldn't you be in the other hall?"
"I don't know. All I know is Miss Tuttle came and got me and brought me over here."
Judging Cicely (Strasburg: The New Generation Book 1) Page 11