The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  Flynn, one of the nine-year-old twins, not unusually, found his voice first. “Who is she, Papa?”

  Before I could answer, Cymbeline, only six years old but particularly articulate, stepped closer to Miss Cooper and whispered, “Is she a princess from a faraway land?” Cymbeline’s dark curls, still damp from her bath, stuck to her rosy cheeks.

  Nanny Foster, from behind, spoke in a sharp voice. “Cymbeline, don’t get too close. She might be sick.”

  “No, it’s all right, Nanny,” I said. “She’s only bumped her head.”

  “Is she a stranger, Papa?” Josephine asked in a voice much too old for only being thirteen. “Have we taken her in from the cold?”

  “No, this is our new teacher. Harley had an accident in the sleigh.”

  “The small sleigh?” Flynn asked.

  “What does it matter?” I asked.

  “I’m just wondering,” Flynn said, grinning. “Because if the larger one is wrecked, then we wouldn’t be able to go into town for school.”

  “You’re out of luck. It was the small one,” I said.

  Fiona, my smallest daughter, slipped her hand into mine. At three, she still looked like a doll, with dark ringlets and round blue eyes that could melt the heart of the fiercest man. Especially her father. “Papa, I’m scared.”

  I lifted her into my arms. “No need to be afraid, my darling. Doc’s on his way. He’ll fix her right up.”

  “What if he can’t?” Theo asked. The quiet, worried half of my twin set didn’t have to explain his question. He would be thinking of his mother, who had walked into a blizzard and died when Fiona was a baby. Theo had been the one to find her. The doctor had come then, too.

  “Let’s not worry ourselves,” Nanny Foster said in her brisk, unemotional way. “This looks like a strong but rather foolish young woman.”

  I wasn’t sure how a bump on her head made her foolish, but I’d learned not to follow up with Nanny Foster’s observations unless I wanted a few more paragraphs of her opinions.

  The children all gathered close, inspecting our patient.

  Fiona wriggled from my arms, forever worried she’d miss something her older siblings were privy to.

  Jasper appeared with a piece of ice wrapped in a cloth and placed it gently on top of that mound of shiny hair.

  Miss Cooper’s eyes fluttered open. I took a step backward, stunned by the beauty of those eyes, brown and shiny as polished stone. They widened with alarm as she took in her surroundings. Here we were, staring at her like she was part of the circus. “Children, step away. Give Miss Cooper some room to breathe.”

  “Oh, dear,” Miss Cooper said. “What’s happened? Where am I?”

  Chapter 3

  Quinn

  Five sets of eyes peered at me. Was I in heaven? Dead at the mercy of a horse and sleigh on my very first day in Colorado? With five child angels surrounding me? Yet, no. The pain in my head and midsection told me I was still very much on earth. There was no pain in heaven.

  Nevertheless, these children indeed looked like angels. The two smallest possessed adorable cherubic faces with brown ringlets and eyes the color of the ocean on a summer day. There were two boys, identical twins, I quickly gathered. Their faces seemed carved from the finest birch tree, pale and smooth. They had dark hair like their sisters, but their eyes seemed almost black in the dim light. I might have had trouble telling them apart, except that one had a scar above his left eye. Ridges from a comb in their damp hair and glowing skin told me they’d just come from a bath. The oldest child, a girl, was the only one with fair hair and light green eyes. She was slighter than the others, daintily built, as if a slight breeze could knock her over. She held a book to her chest and gazed at me with a somber, inquisitive expression. A reader. This was my favorite kind of child. Well, they were all my favorites, really, other than the spoilt or mean ones. However, the world was to blame for those. Most children were born sweet.

  A man appeared in my sight line. A particularly handsome man with high cheekbones and a mouth that naturally curved upward so that he appeared to be smiling even though his eyes were serious. Faint laugh lines around his eyes were evidence of a life lived.

  And those eyes of his. They were a spectacular shade of dark green and seemed to exude intelligence and curiosity. At the moment they were fixed on me, holding my gaze. He was obviously the father of these children. Other than their brown eyes, the twins were the spitting image of him. I could imagine him as a boy, which made me like him immensely before he even opened his mouth. The twinkle in his eyes contributed some too, I suppose, other than they seemed to be laughing at me. If eyes could laugh. They can’t. They’re only meant for seeing or producing tears.

  “Miss Cooper, we do beg your pardon for this most inauspicious meeting.” A deep, resonate voice and, God help me, an English accent. “It seems you’ve had an accident. The Higgins brothers brought you to the closest home. Ours. We’re the Barnes family. I’m Alexander Barnes. We’ve corresponded, as I’m sure you remember.”

  Silently, I groaned and fought an outward wince. This man was Lord Alexander Barnes. How unfortunate he was handsome. I mustn’t let my romantic mind get the better of me. I’d been prone to that kind of behavior before. Daydreaming of a love that existed only as a figment of my imagination. Charles, whom I’d been in love with since I was a little girl, loved my friend Betsy, not me. I’d never told a soul of my longings. For which I was grateful. At least the humiliation was only in my mind, not out for the world to see. I shoved that thought aside and focused on the scene in front of me now.

  “Do you remember? Or has the bump on your head given you amnesia, like in a story I read?” the oldest girl asked.

  I managed a smile, even though my head throbbed. “Yes, not to worry. I remember everything, other than the moment after I flew from the sleigh.” I closed my eyes as images from those last terrifying moments flooded my consciousness. Harley shouting to me to hold on and I’d thought, hold on to what exactly? and then the cries of the horses. “Are the horses all right? And Harley?”

  “All fine,” Lord Barnes said. “You seem to have taken the brunt of it.”

  I sat up and winced from the pounding in my head. Black dots danced before my eyes. “I’m sorry to cause trouble at our first meeting.”

  The second-to-smallest girl stepped forward with a distinctly disappointed look on her round face. “You’re not a princess, are you?”

  “Cymbeline, hush, child.” I looked in the direction of the voice to see a plump, middle-aged woman with silver hair and a thin mouth.

  Cymbeline. The name suited her.

  “Yes, Nanny Foster,” Cymbeline said.

  The smallest one drew close enough that I caught the scent of soap on her skin. “I’m Fiona. I’m the baby.” She picked up a lock of my hair. “Pretty, like Josephine’s.”

  “Josephine?” I asked.

  Fiona pointed to the oldest daughter. “My sister. She has hair like yours.”

  Josephine curtsied. “Hello, Miss Cooper. I’m pleased to meet you. I can’t wait for school.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Josephine,” I said.

  “Fiona,” Nanny Foster said. “Step away.” I could see right away that Nanny Foster had a most unpleasant disposition. Why did women who hated children become nannies and teachers? “We don’t touch other people.”

  “It’s all right,” I said.

  “No,” Nanny Foster said. “Obey me, Fiona, or you’ll be sent to bed without a cookie.”

  Fiona backed away but not without a conspiratorial glance toward Cymbeline.

  I stayed quiet, glancing behind the children to take in the dark walls and plush furniture. Rows and rows of books lined the shelves. A roaring fire warmed the room. For the first time in ten days, I started to unthaw. I unbuttoned my coat.

  “Jasper, please help her with her coat,” Lord Banks said.

  Jasper, who was obviously the butler or valet or some kind of fancy servant, le
apt forward. I moved my feet to the floor and then tried to stand, but the room seemed to tilt. I sat back down, shrugging out of the coat and handing it to Jasper.

  The door opened and another woman entered, carrying a tray with a teapot and, glory be to God, a stack of cookies that smelled of butter and sugar. My mouth watered, accompanied by a loud growl of my stomach. I glanced around to see if anyone heard, but they were all fixated on the cookies.

  “I’ve brought tea and biscuits,” the woman said. She also had an English accent. Cornflower-blue eyes gazed at me with such sympathy I immediately wanted her to be my best friend. “You poor dear. I’m Lizzie, the family cook. You’ve given us quite a fright.” She said all this as she set the tray on the table in front of me. I tried not to feel jealous of her curves and glowing ivory skin peppered with freckles, but I didn’t quite manage it. “Are you hungry? You look half starved.” Her white cap hung lopsided over corkscrew brown hair that escaped from its bun. A white puff of flour wafted from the front of her apron as she leaned over to pour the tea.

  “Allow me, Lizzie,” Jasper said.

  “Yes, right. Of course.” Lizzie straightened and touched her pink cheeks with the palms of her hands. “I’m quite undone. We don’t often have visitors.”

  “Especially ones with a broken head,” said the twin with the scar as he squinted and moved closer. “Does it hurt?” Given the sparkle in his eyes, he appeared quite thrilled over the turn of events. I half expected him to pull out a notebook and start jotting down field notes about the strange woman who had appeared in their library. A curious child. I felt certain I would adore him even though he was obviously a rascal.

  “Didn’t they feed you on the train?” Lizzie stacked a plate with cookies and thrust them into my hands.

  “I was on a strict budget,” I said before I could stop myself. This Lizzie was a woman who wrapped you in a warm blanket, fed you hot tea and biscuits, and made all your secrets spill forth.

  “Sugar, Miss Cooper?” Jasper asked.

  “Yes, two please.” If someone offered free sugar, one should take it.

  Jasper poured the tea and added two scoops of sugar from a bowl on an ornate silver tray, then stirred with a different tiny spoon. Two spoons for one cup of tea? I was in a new world compared with the one from which I’d come. “Here you are, Miss Cooper.” He set the cup and saucer on the table in front of me.

  I took a grateful sip. “Thank you, Jasper and Lizzie. Everyone. I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening.”

  “My sister thought you were a princess, but I could tell you were too plainly dressed,” said the twin with the scar above his left eye.

  “And your shoes are old,” Cymbeline said.

  “Cymbeline,” Lord Barnes said. “That’s impolite.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Cooper,” Cymbeline said.

  “It’s quite all right. My shoes are old.” I smiled through my embarrassment. My poverty shamed me even though I knew it had nothing to do with my character. I’d found over the years that it was impossible to hide how poor my family and I were. Shabby clothes and shoes were out there for everyone to see. Regardless, they couldn’t see the inside of me. In there, I was rich with dreams and imagination and my big heart. No one could ever mock those or make me feel inadequate. They were mine. “True enough. I can assure you I’m not a princess.” Far from it. From the appearance of this elaborate house and almost as many servants as children, I had a distinct impression the members of the Barnes family would not have the slightest understanding of the scarcity from which I’d come. As if in agreement, my empty stomach growled again. I put my hand over the front of my dress, praying no one had heard.

  “Ah, biscuits aren’t going to do it now.” Lizzie shook her head and tutted. She must have good hearing. I willed myself not to blush, but it was too late. My cheeks burned. Why did embarrassing incidents always happen to me? Who flew from a sleigh into a tree and was rendered unconscious during the first thirty minutes of arrival in a strange place? I knew the answer to that. Me.

  “May I warm up some of my chicken stew for her?” Lizzie asked.

  My mouth watered so much I was afraid I might drool to add to my embarrassment.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Lord Barnes said. “Fix her a tray. I don’t think we should let her up just yet.”

  “Agreed.” Lizzie beamed. “I’ve fresh bread too, Miss Cooper. It’ll put some meat on your bones.” Lizzie swept from the room, her long black skirt whirling around her ankles.

  Lord Barnes cleared his throat. “Before we get you a warm meal, Miss Cooper, allow me to introduce you to the Barnes children. Line up now.”

  The five arranged themselves in a neat line—oldest to youngest, like stairsteps, other than the twins, who made an even landing.

  Lord Barnes stood behind them. “As you’ve heard already, this is Josephine, age thirteen.”

  “Good evening, Miss Cooper,” Josephine said.

  “Hello, again. What’re you reading?” I asked.

  “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Josephine said. “For the second time.”

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I love that book. I’ve read it at least a dozen times. How lucky you are to have a copy of your very own.”

  Josephine smiled shyly, then glanced up at her father. “Papa knows the publisher.”

  I was too shocked to think of a response and simply nodded dumbly.

  Lord Barnes continued. “This is Theo and Flynn. They just turned nine last month.” He put a hand on each of their heads. “This is Flynn on the left.”

  Flynn had the scar. He was the wild one of the two, probably always getting into scrapes. Whereas the other seemed cautious and scholarly. Flynn looked me directly in the eyes and spoke in the high-pitched voice of a young boy. “How do you do, Miss Cooper?” His mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile.

  I smiled at him, and I was rewarded with a grin that rivaled the brightest spring morning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “This is Theo,” Lord Barnes said. “Say hello to Miss Cooper, son.”

  Theo stared at the floor rather than me and mumbled a version of his brother’s greeting. Or at least I thought so. I wasn’t able to decipher exactly.

  Lord Barnes moved to stand behind the second-to-youngest. “This is Cymbeline. You have to watch out for her. She’s almost always looking for mischief, and her tongue has a mind of its own.”

  “I’m sorry you’re not a princess.” A clumsy curtsy in mimic of her sister caused Cymbeline’s dark curls to bounce. “But you’re pretty so I don’t mind as much as I normally would.”

  “Is it true you’re always looking for mischief?” I asked.

  Cymbeline bit her lip and looked downward before returning my gaze. “I’m spirited.” She drew the word out as if she’d overheard an adult say it and wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. I suspected she’d heard it from her father, perhaps in defense of her to the grumpy nanny.

  “More like sassy,” Josephine said.

  Cymbeline shot her sister a dark look before returning her gaze to me.

  “And finally, Fiona,” Lord Barnes said.

  Fiona’s curtsy more closely resembled a bow. “I don’t get to go to school.”

  “Not yet, but soon enough,” I said.

  “I’m a sweetheart,” Fiona said. “Everyone loves me the best.”

  I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Fiona, hush now,” Nanny said. “Boasting is not acceptable.”

  “Papa says I am.” Fiona crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.

  “I do, yes.” Lord Barnes scooped Fiona into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “But you must obey Nanny and remember to be humble.”

  “How?” Fiona asked.

  “This child,” Nanny Foster muttered.

  Fiona’s eyes flashed with temper before she buried her face in Lord Barnes’s shoulder.

  “And this is the woman who takes care of these m
ischief-makers. Nanny Foster,” Lord Barnes said. “Like you, she’s from back east.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  “Likewise, Miss Cooper,” Nanny said. “Good luck surviving the winter.”

  I swallowed, unsure how to react.

  “Our mama died,” Cymbeline said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “My father died.”

  “Are you sad?” Cymbeline asked.

  “I am. But he’s in heaven now,” I said.

  “Like Mother,” Josephine said, then promptly flushed pink.

  Nanny Foster had crossed her arms over her chest. Her complexion now resembled a purple turnip. I wasn’t sure of the offense, but clearly the children were not behaving as she wanted them to. She also disapproved of Lord Barnes’s lack of formality with his offspring. It was unusual to see a man so outwardly affectionate. I suspected it was even more uncommon for an Englishman.

  However, Lord Barnes was both mother and father.

  “It’s time for the children to go to bed,” Nanny said. “You may each take one cookie and head upstairs.”

  “Yes, off you go,” Lord Barnes said as he held out his arms. The children, one by one, kissed him and filed out of the room.

  Seconds after they left, Jasper announced the arrival of Dr. Moore.

  My head did ache. Still, I wished the doctor hadn’t been called. All this fuss was unnecessary. I’d wanted to give a good impression, one of an independent, educated woman, and now I was in the library of an actual English lord looking like a complete fool as well as a frail damsel in distress. Where was my plucky inner heroine when I needed her?

  “Let’s take a look at you,” Dr. Moore said. He set his doctor’s bag on the floor and asked me to lie back against the couch.

  “I’m really fine, Dr. Moore.” Regardless, I did as was asked of me.

  The doctor picked up my arm and felt the pulse at my wrist. Embarrassed to be touched, I peeked at him through my lashes. His white hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him the appearance of an esteemed doctor. However, his hard gray eyes and a strong odor of alcohol on his breath did nothing to instill my confidence in his abilities.