The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  I pushed away my plate and folded my hands together on top of the table. This was not at all how I thought this conversation was going to go. “Let me set you all straight. Miss Cooper came here to be our first teacher. Not my wife.”

  “Oh, so you don’t actually know yet?” Flynn asked. “We thought you knew.”

  “We didn’t know, obviously,” Josephine said. “Until we saw her. Until we saw you together.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “But you have this all wrong.”

  Fiona started to cry. “The others said she was going to be our new mama.”

  “When in heaven’s name did you discuss this?” I asked.

  “This morning,” Josephine said. “During our family meeting.”

  I dropped my forehead into the palm of my hand. They had family meetings without me? When had that begun? It was like a geographic shift, and I was looking at a world I no longer recognized. Because here was the actual ridiculous truth. I agreed with them. I couldn’t say that, of course. We’d known Miss Cooper for two days. This time last week we were eating beef stew and discussing how excited we were for our new teacher to arrive. Two days ago, I’d thought she was a white-haired spinster. We were all acting mad. Romances like this were for books, not real life.

  “Listen carefully now. You will not mention any of this nonsense to Miss Cooper. Do you understand?”

  “Why?” Cymbeline asked. “How will she know the plan?”

  “Because you will scare her away,” I said. “She came here to teach, not find a husband. She might not even want a husband.” I added the last thought hoping with everything I had that it wasn’t true.

  Josephine scowled and shook her head as if I’d said we were taking a ride to the moon. “Papa, she wants a husband.”

  “Especially one like you,” Flynn said.

  Theo nodded, quite solemn. “Papa, she looks at you with her heart in her eyes.”

  I glanced around the table at their earnest expressions. They actually believed Miss Cooper was for us. My darling babies were all romantic fools, mirroring my unspoken, irrational daydreams. We wished for love with such fervor that we’d imagined that a wife and mother had fallen suddenly from the sky. Or, in this circumstance, from the train.

  I spoke as sternly as possible. “We won’t discuss this again. Miss Cooper has been gracious enough to accept the position. If I hear another word, you’ll all be punished.” With that, I set aside my napkin and rose from the table, acting the part of strict father when, in fact, they’d shaken me. My legs wobbled as I entered the hallway. I heard the familiar creak of the stairs that led to the kitchen. Someone had been standing outside the door, listening. God help me. Please, I prayed. Let it have been Jasper and not Miss Cooper standing in the hallway.

  I jumped when Jasper shuffled out of the library carrying an empty tray. Wonderful. Jasper had not been in the hallway. If Miss Cooper had heard that conversation, she was probably contemplating how to get out of this house and back to the world of rational humans.

  “What’s the matter?” Jasper asked. “You look a bit undone.”

  “Let’s go into town for a drink. I want to get out of the house.” When had it gotten so warm in here? I loosened my tie.

  His eyebrows raised. “Town?”

  “Yes, town.”

  “For a drink?”

  I rubbed the skin between my eyebrows, irritated. Why did he have to question me? If I wanted to go into the saloon, then I would go to the bloody saloon. “I know, it’s unusual, but I feel the urge for some fresh air. Do you have a problem with that?”

  He flinched as if I’d smacked him. “Not at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Jasper.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I had a strange interaction with the children, and I’m rattled.”

  “No explanation necessary. I’ll have Harley prepare the horses.”

  “First, I need to speak to Miss Cooper. Do you know where she is?”

  “Downstairs with Lizzie and Merry.” He watched me with wary eyes, as if I were a stranger to him. “Shall I fetch her for you?”

  “No, I’ll go down myself. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “As you wish.”

  Chapter 15

  Quinn

  I was at the sink in the kitchen drying a plate when I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Lord Barnes burst through the door seconds later. His hair stood up in the front as if he’d been running his hands through it, and his tie was loose about his neck.

  “Lord Barnes, may I help you with something?” Lizzie leapt up from the table where she’d been polishing a silver serving tray with a cotton cloth.

  “Who was in the hallway just now?” he asked.

  “That was me,” Merry said. She’d climbed up on the step stool to put a bowl up on the top shelf and stood there now, frozen. “I’d come from the library. I had to put more logs on the fire. Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, so you weren’t listening to the conversation in the dining room?” he asked.

  Merry’s knuckles whitened as she pressed the bowl against her chest. “No, Lord Barnes. Was I supposed to?”

  “No, no. Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair, proving I’d been correct about the origin of its dishevelment. “And no, nothing’s the matter. I just came down to tell you that I’ve talked to the children, Miss Cooper.” Lord Barnes leaned against the wall, as if he were tired.

  My heart sank. His dark expression told me everything I needed to know. “They were upset?”

  “What? No, no. They quite like you. Yes, they quite like you.”

  I studied him. Why was he repeating himself, and why the emphasis on the word quite? He picked at the skin around his thumbnail as his gaze darted around the kitchen. “Anyway, they’re upstairs in the dining room. Perhaps bring them into the library after you’re done here and talk to them about things.”

  “Things?” I asked.

  “You know, how you expect them to behave and such,” he said. “Jasper and I are going into town for a drink.”

  “Lord Barnes?” Lizzie asked. “To the saloon?”

  “Yes, we’re going to the saloon,” he said. “Just this once, so you mustn’t worry about my moral corruption, Lizzie.” He nodded at us and then practically ran back up the stairs.

  “What’s gotten into him?” Lizzie asked. “The saloon?”

  I folded the damp towel and hung it over the side of the sink. “Perhaps it went poorly with the children and he didn’t want to say.”

  “No, it’s something else,” Lizzie said. “I think the death of Mr. Cole has him worried and sad.” She nodded, as if trying to convince herself. “Yes, that’s all it is.”

  A few minutes later, I herded the children into the library and had them sit together on the couch. They obeyed without question, with Cymbeline between the twins and Fiona on Josephine’s lap.

  “Your father told you I’m going to look after you until he can find a proper replacement, is that right?”

  Nods all around. Fiona tracked my every movement with adoring eyes. I had one on my side. Was it four to go?

  “We’re going to come to a few agreements,” I said. “Like school, there are rules.”

  Five pairs of eyes were fixed on my face.

  “I ask that you’re respectful and obedient. In exchange, I’ll treat you with kindness. If you’re well behaved, we can have fun adventures together.”

  Flynn raised his hand. “Do we have to raise our hands like at school?”

  I swallowed a laugh. “Not at home, only at school. Here, you’ll wait your turn to speak and be courteous to your family members, but you don’t have to raise your hand.”

  “What’s courteous mean exactly?” Cymbeline asked.

  “Courteous means polite and thoughtful. It means you do not put frogs in beds,” I said.

  Flynn and Cymbeline giggled.

  “That was extremely naughty,” I said with a pointed look at Flynn, then
Cymbeline.

  “You didn’t know her.” Josephine’s eyes shone with a feverish hatred. “She was awful to us.”

  “What about all the other nannies?” I asked. “Lizzie told me all about your antics.”

  Theo and Josephine looked into their laps. Flynn and Cymbeline smiled, reminding me of cats after a kill. Fiona seemed oblivious to her siblings’ previous misbehaviors as she wrinkled her little brow and looked confused.

  “None of them belonged here.” Flynn crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out one pointy chin.

  “They were scary old ladies,” Cymbeline said. “Not pretty like you.”

  “Pretty is on the inside,” I said.

  “They weren’t pretty in there, either,” Josephine said. “You’re both.”

  This clever girl had certainly figured out how to soften me. I must remain stoic and impenetrable to their charms. Falling in love with the Barnes children would do none of us any good. I was not their mother. I wasn’t even their real nanny. At some point, I would have to leave them and move on to my own home and life. I was merely an interloper, I reminded myself. Spending time with these precious children was my way of paying back a kind man for his hospitality and employment. Remaining aloof had never been a strength. On the contrary. I fell for any living being who needed and wanted my affection. Stray cats, lame dogs, motherless children. All foils to my resolve. “All right then, can I have your promise that you’ll be obedient and respectful to me?” I asked.

  More nods and smiles.

  “And I do not care for amphibians or reptiles of any kind. If you put one in my bed or anywhere else near me, I’ll have to go home to Boston.”

  All five faces transformed from earnest to sorrowful. They hadn’t understood I was only teasing. If they only knew how much more difficult it would be for me to leave them than for them to be left. I suspected Lord Barnes would marry again soon and give them a mother. Probably someone from the east or even England. A blue blood debutante type. Someone of his world.

  A spasm of jealousy hit me between my shoulder blades. That is quite ridiculous, I told myself. I barely know him. Why had God cursed me with such an imagination?

  “We don’t want you to leave,” Cymbeline said.

  “We want you to stay forever and ever,” Fiona said.

  I smiled in a way I hoped was reassuring. “I don’t want to go away either, so put that out of your minds. I was only teasing. About going to Boston, that is. Not about the amphibians.” I waggled a finger at them.

  “It was Flynn who put the frog in her bed,” Cymbeline said in a rush of words. “None of the rest of us like frogs either.”

  I allowed myself a stiff smile, even though inside I wanted to throw my head back and laugh. “I’ll hold you to this.”

  For the first time, Theo spoke. “What do we call you here at the house?”

  I hadn’t thought about that, but it was a good question. I was Miss Cooper at school. Nanny Cooper didn’t sound right somehow.

  “You may call me Miss Quinn at home. However, you mustn’t share it with the other children. When we’re at school, I’ll have to treat you like I do all the others.”

  “Even though we’re special?” Cymbeline grinned and swung her legs.

  “That’s correct.” I tented my hands under my chin. “Now let’s get ready for bed. If you wash up, clean your teeth, and put on your nightgowns with no fuss, I’ll read to you the first chapter of a book before lights out.”

  All five bounced from the couch as if there were springs under them. Josephine and Flynn both grabbed a lantern, lighting the kerosene wick before heading toward the hallway. I did the same with one more, then picked up the two books I’d already chosen from the shelves earlier and followed them up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  As promised, they obeyed my directions. Sharing space in the bathroom, one by one they brushed their teeth and washed their faces. I had to send Flynn back for a second scrubbing, as the dirt under his fingernails appeared to be almost as old as him.

  In the hallway, he held out his hands for inspection. “Much better,” I said.

  “A little dirt never hurt anyone,” he said.

  “It hurts me,” I said.

  “Why?” Flynn asked.

  “Because it does,” I said. “It’s a grown-up thing.” I patted his back. “Now stop asking questions so we can have our story.”

  The two little girls had crawled under the covers on their twin beds. Flynn, Theo, and Josephine sat cross-legged on her bed. I slipped next to Fiona and read the opening passage from Heidi. I’d chosen it from the shelves of the library, remembering how much I’d enjoyed it as a child. Like the Barnes children, Heidi was without a mother. As for me, I was like Heidi—a visitor in a remote and beautiful place.

  The lamplight flickered as I read. Fiona fell asleep after only a few pages. Her body, warm and heavy beside me, reminded me of my sister, and a pang of homesickness washed through me. I pushed the pain aside. These children needed me present in the here and now. They had a way of making everything immediate. I liked this, as it kept me from thinking too much about the family I’d left behind.

  When the first chapter was done, Cymbeline had also fallen asleep. I shooed the boys off to their room.

  At the doorway, Flynn stopped. “Miss Quinn, will you tuck us in?”

  “I’ll be right there,” I said, as I pulled Cymbeline’s quilt over her shoulders.

  While I was adjusting Fiona’s blanket around her small, chubby body, now curled into a ball, Josephine pulled back her quilt and slid into bed.

  I stood, smoothing my skirts. Josephine lay on her side, watching me.

  “How about you, Miss Josephine?” I asked. “Would you like a tuck-in?”

  She smiled. “I’m too big, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t think there’s an age limit.” I crossed over to her bed and sat on the end. With my fingers I traced the stitches of the red-and-white flower pattern on the quilt. “What a pretty quilt.”

  “My mother brought it with her from New York.” She folded her hands under her chin and looked toward the sleeping form of her sisters. “I’m the only one who remembers her.”

  “The boys don’t?” I asked, surprised.

  “They remember some things, but not very many. They’re bad memories mostly. I remember good things too.”

  “Like what?”

  “There was a time when Mother tucked me in. Before the boys were born, I guess it was. She used to sing to me when I was very little.”

  “Do you remember any of the songs?”

  “Not really. Did your mother sing to you?”

  I smiled, thinking of my mother’s raspy, off-key voice. “My mother’s talents aren’t musical, but yes, she sang to us when we were young until we asked her to stop.”

  Josephine’s expression turned wistful. “I can’t remember if my mother ever laughed.”

  “She must have at one time or another,” I said.

  “What’s your mother’s laugh sound like?”

  I thought for a moment. How could I describe one of the most precious sounds in the world? “Quiet, like she wants the laugh to stay in her throat but can’t quite manage.”

  “Do you miss her?” Josephine asked.

  “I’m trying hard to be brave but yes, very much.”

  “What’s your sister like?”

  I smoothed the quilt up over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Right now, you need to go to sleep. The morning will come early.” Standing, I took the lantern from the bedside table.

  She yawned. “Thanks for reading to us.”

  I turned to go, but a cold hand reached out to me. “Miss Quinn? I wouldn’t mind if you kissed my forehead.”

  “All right, then.” I leaned over and kissed her softly, as I’d done the others. “You have sweet dreams.”

  “You too.”

  I left the door open a crack and headed across the hallway to the boys’ room. They were in their be
ds and turned on their sides talking quietly. I wanted to stand in the doorway and eavesdrop, but resisted.

  “Gentlemen, are you ready for your tuck-in?” I asked.

  They rolled onto their backs in perfect time, as if they’d choreographed the move. I suppose they’d learned to work together for space in their mother’s womb.

  I stood between their two beds and gazed down at Theo, then Flynn. They wore matching red-and-white plaid pajamas, but even in the muted light I could tell them apart. Not only did the scar give Flynn away; their personalities were in stark contrast, which made them appear to look different even though they were identical. The scholar and the scoundrel, I thought. I adored them equally.

  “Miss Quinn?” Theo asked.

  I sat on the end of his bed. “Yes?”

  “Are you ever afraid of the dark?” Theo wrinkled his nose.

  “Not really,” I said. “I’m usually so tired at the end of the day, I fall right to sleep. Are you?”

  “Not if Flynn’s here. But sometimes I can’t fall asleep.”

  I smiled as I smoothed the quilt over his legs. “You’re a lucky boy to have a brother to keep you company. Do you know what my sister does when she can’t sleep?”

  He shook his head.

  “She tells herself a story, like the ones she likes to read.”

  “Mine would have pirates,” Flynn said. “And a ship.”

  “What about you?” I asked Theo.

  “I’d tell a story of a happy family at Christmastime,” Theo said.

  “That sounds like a story I’d like to read.” I moved over to Flynn’s bed, where he had shifted to his side. His eyes fluttered as he tried to stay awake. This little one played hard and probably slept even harder. I swept a lock of hair from his forehead.

  He looked up at me sleepily. “No kisses. Boys don’t like them.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I chuckled and fluffed Flynn’s hair, then Theo’s. “Good night, sweet princes. Sleep well.”

  With lantern in hand, I left the door slightly ajar as they mumbled their good-nights. In my room, I undressed and readied for bed. After washing and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I tiptoed back to my room, conscious not to wake the children. The floorboards didn’t squeak as they did at my own home. I slipped into the cold sheets and blew out the lantern. It had been a long, stimulating day, and I was weary both mentally and physically, even though it wasn’t much past eight. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball, waiting for the bed to warm from my own body heat. The house creaked, as if saying good night to its inhabitants. Soon, I warmed and drifted off to sleep, content with a good day’s work done.