The Lady From Sleepy Hollow

Mary

Daylight breaks through my small window, bringing me to consciousness from my deep sleep. The air is noticeably cooler, my breath releasing a small puff of fog upon every exhale.

Ichabod.

I get up and get dressed, eager to see his face once more. But I don't rush myself out before brushing my hair and pinning it up and out of my face.

A knock resonates against my door, to which I permit, "Come in."

I turn to see Katrina rush in, her eyes faintly red from crying. Tear stains coat her rosy cheeks. and her eyes are focused on something faraway as she shuts the door behind her, remaining at the door. She finally meets my gaze.

"Katrina, sister? What's the matter?" I ask, setting my brush down and striding to her. She shakes her head.

"Ichabod—he blames father for the murders. He blames father for the Headless Horseman," she cries out softly. My heart stops, and I forget how to breathe for a moment.

I look at her closely, finding it hard to believe that my Ichabod would say such things. "Certainly not—"

"It was in his ledger, Mary! I saw it with my own eyes! I was just with him at our old ruined cottage and he told me himself—"

"Katrina, you can't go around saying such things. I am sure that it isn't father behind all of this, and I am certain Ichabod wouldn't believe it so, either. Why would father do that to us, even if it was true? It's just not possible," I say confidently, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She swats my arm away, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"You don't believe me?! You don't know what I saw in that ledger! And Ichabod had found evidence to make his accusation seem all the more true!" she nearly shouts. I hush her and take hold of her hands in my own.

"Then show me!" I beg in exasperation. "Show me if it will ease your nerves, and calm your mind!"

She falls silent, and murmurs, "I can't."

"Why not?" I whisper, feeling like I am dealing with a mere child again, rather than a young and polite woman.

"Because I burned the documents so father won't be prosecuted." Katrina looks into my eyes.

"Katrina!" I gasp in a hushed whisper. "You can't go burning evidence! That is the constable's and the police's property—it's illegal! And it could've helped the constable find the true culprit!"

She scoffs, "Oh, but if you are indeed faint of hearing after all, then I will say it again: Ichabod thinks it's Father behind this and Ichabod had proof to help confirm his claims! And I can prove it to you, if you just let me show you—"

"I will not go snooping around in his room again! It's not right, and not polite..."

"But Mary, it's our business when Father is the one who Ichabod blames!"

"But I don't feel right with invading his work! I don't know whether what you say is true or not!" I argue. "Did you see the words written out yourself that Father is to blame and that Ichabod has evidence for the matter?"

"Yes, in his ledger! You've got to believe me—"

"And the evidence?"

"Trust me, Mary—"

"How can I know who to trust in times like these, sister? I have to know if what you say is true with evidence, to be sure. Or hear it from him myself," I testify, unsure of where to allow my loyalties to fall amidst this dark time. Immediately, I know I've chosen harsh words to argue with.

"Fine. Choose your so-clearly profound love for him over your own sister and father. Because what does the little sister know, anyways?" She delivers to me a strong look of betrayal, storming out of my room with a slam of my door in my face.

I stand there frozen, my arms slowly falling to my sides along with my heart falling to my feet.

I have chosen Ichabod over my own sister... Oh, God, what am I to do?

With a deep breath, I stride back to my writing desk, feeling a headache coming. My weight settles into the chair, my bones feelings weak with heartache. I can't see Ichabod after what nonsense Katrina had just spouted to me, and I doubt Katrina wants to see me anytime soon after this...

A few moments later, I hear a soft knock on my door. I sigh tiredly, "Come in."

"Mary, dear? What's the matter?" I hear my step-mother say warmly. I turn to her and give her a welcoming smile.

"It's nothing major, I hope. Katrina... she feels Ichabod is blaming Father for the Hessian. Upon some notes she discovered from his ledger," I murmur. "But I believe she is just frightened. Ichabod wouldn't leave the blame on Father, not anyone in our family. He wouldn't... would he?"

Lady Van Tassel shakes her head, and comes to kneel in front of me. "I don't think he would. If he did, he'd be walking on eggshells while taking residence within our walls."

I nod, feeling more reassured with her words. "I doubt Katrina wants to see him, or me, right now. I practically told her I didn't believe her accusations against Ichabod. Which, I didn't see or hear for myself the accusations she claims to have seen or heard, so how could I know whether or not she was telling the truth, and if Ichabod actually thinks Father is behind this madness?"

Lady Van Tassel stays silent, pressing her lips in a thin line.  I sigh, knowing she doesn't have the answer to this mystery at all, either. "It's been giving me a massive headache..."

I glance down at her hand, and gasp minutely. "What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, this?" she chuckles lightly, looking at her hand and wiggling her fingers underneath a loosely wrapped white bandage. A line of red is faintly painted along the palm of it. "Accidentally cut myself with a kitchen knife. Don't be worried, dear. I'll make you some tea and bring it to you. Go rest a while in bed and save your energy. I will make sure you aren't to be disturbed until you are well enough."

Before I can protest against her making me tea with her recent small injury, Lady Van Tassel kisses the top of my head as she stands up. She leaves my room collectively, and closes the door behind her.

I take a deep breath, massaging my temple as I slowly get up and shuffle over to my bed. Growing at the fact that I am nicely dressed, I remove my gown, and curl up into my bed covers with only my undergarments on.

I think of Ichabod, and what Katrina so boldly claimed about him. If it's all true... It can't be. Ichabod knows that our father is a good man. He mustn't be blaming him. He wouldn't...

I drift off, exhausted with the recent argument and the distant drumming in my head. The last thing I think of is Ichabod's soft smile before finally giving into slumber.