Masquerade

Chapter 8: Explanation

Alabastor, America, 1871

(Henry’s POV)

“You had no right, no right whatsoever to tell Abigail about Mari!” Henry stormed, as he followed Josephina. It was late at night and Josephina was in her bedroom, putting a book back in her book shelf.

“I didn’t?” she asked, turning to face him, “She is my good friend, and your wife, and she is crushed right now, because her husband doesn’t want anything to do with her, and will you relax, I just mentioned the girl’s name.”

“You still had no right Josephina,” Henry said, angrily, glaring at the woman before him. She returned with a steely glare of her own.

“You had no right getting intimate with the girl, before you married my friend,” she said, in a low voice.

Henry was out of arguments, because he knew that she had a point. He walked over to Josephina’s bedroom window, preparing to take his leave, but he turned and faced the dark-haired girl with a glare.

“When you see Abigail, you will not bring any mention of Mariana into your conversation. If you do it one more time, you will no longer be permitted to see Abigail again. Do you understand?” Henry said.

“Yes Henry,” Josephina said, looking down and crossing her arms over her chest.

Receiving his answer, Henry nodded once and then took his leave, climbing out of the second story window and down the trellis, sprinting across the yard and into the bushes, not knowing that Josephina had an agenda of her own to carry out.

~

(Ivy’s POV)

She hadn’t slept.

It had been two months since Albert had taken up residence in the tavern and two weeks since Amber had come looking for him. They were very secretive about their plans, about what they were doing; their maps, their strategies and statistics, which they would always cover up, when Ivy entered the room.

Sighing, Ivy threw the duvet and linens off of her legs and then got out of bed, and bathed. Living alone made it difficult to bathe and get ready for a day; nobody to brings towels or lace a corset. But Ivy had lived by herself for a long while now, and had practice at doing things like this for herself.

After she was done getting ready for the day, with her peasant blouse, a magenta-colored skirt, and boots, Ivy grabbed her coat as she stepped out the door.

She was about to step into her coach, when a young boy riding a horse, with the saddle bags full of mail, came riding up the drive and stopped alongside her carriage.

“Miss Ivy Friesner?” the boy asked.

“Yes?” Ivy asked, turning to the boy and looking up with him.

“I have a letter for you, Miss,” he said. The boy dug around in the saddlebags for a moment, before he pulled out a letter and looked at it. A smile graced his lips and he nodded, once, before he handed the letter down to Ivy.

“Thank you,” Ivy said, taking it and watching the boy ride off again. Once he was out of sight, Ivy turned the letter over and noticed and ornate red H, as the seal. Ivy turned and walked back into the house, and into the old study, and picked up a dusty letter opener, and then she opened the letter.

The curly letters met her eyes, and then she began to read.

Dearest Ivy,

I hope you are doing well, and I hope this letter gets to you and nobody else. I can’t tell you where I am, but I just wanted to let you know that Paulette and I are safe. I hope all is well and your tavern is getting great business!