For the second time that day, Celia had me change out of my soggy clothes and dry myself in front of a roaring fire. This time she insisted I remain in my room, dressed in my nightgown and a shawl, a hot cup of tea in my hands as I sat up in bed.
"I am not an invalid," I said as she placed another pillow behind my back.
"You could be if you don't warm up."
"I am warm. And dry. I took an umbrella with me."
"And yet you still managed to get wet."
"Only my bottom half. My hair is dry."
She frowned at my hair, splayed over my shoulders like a black, wavy waterfall. "A small miracle."
I sighed. "Celia, the deed is done, there is no need to remain cross with me."
"There is every reason to remain cross! If I do not then you'll not understand the seriousness of your actions."
"My actions? I got a little wet, that's all! Good Lord, Sis, you'd think I'd committed a crime the way you're treating me."
"You are a stubborn, obstinate girl."
"Stubborn and obstinate mean the same thing. Perhaps you'd like to say out-spoken instead," I said, recalling my earlier conversation with Adelaide. "Oh, and a little vain too." I sipped my tea and watched her over the rim of the cup.
Her face grew redder and redder until I was afraid it might explode. "This is no laughing matter, Emily."
"I'm not laughing."
"You could have been killed."
I snorted. "That is overly dramatic even for you, Celia."
Her lips locked together and tiny white lines ringed her mouth. I'd never seen her so angry. I wouldn't have been surprised to see steam billowing from her nose and ears.
"This is all that ghost's fault!"
I choked on my tea. "Jacob?" I spluttered. "Why?"
"His influence over you is obvious."
"His influence?" I shook my head. "No, I truly don't understand you."
"He can walk about and not care if he gets wet. You cannot." Her gaze wandered around the room and she leaned closer to me. "He should not be encouraging you to go out in the rain," she added, voice low.
"He is not encouraging me to do anything! I happen to have thoughts of my own, Celia. I am not a puppet with Jacob holding the strings." Of all people, my sister should know I was not easily influenced by anyone. Which was why I was not going to concede the point she was making, even if she was right and I could have caught a chill. There was a different point at stake-she could not order me about. I was seventeen! Other seventeen year-old girls were married, or caring for elderly parents or going to the market on their own. I usually enjoyed the same level of freedom, so why was she getting so upset now?