The Sugar Queen

by Tess Thompson

  “We have to bury him.” Rachel’s tears had subsided, and now she sounded numb. “He wanted to be next to his parents.”

  I knew the spot. It was a small family burial ground with two white crosses. Now there would be three.

  “A hole will have to be dug, and the ground’s covered with snow.” Rachel stared blankly at the wall. “I have to tell the children, but I don’t want them to see his body. Not the way he looks. We have to bury him before morning.”

  “We’ll find a way,” I said. “We have to.”

  Chapter 5

  Quinn

  * * *

  My first morning in Colorado, I woke to the sound of knocking. Bleary-eyed, I sat up, unsure for a moment where I was. Ah yes. I’d arrived in Colorado. I was now sleeping in this beautiful house in my own room in this tall, soft bed. In the light of day, I could see more clearly the gleaming floorboards and braided green-and-red rug. The furniture was a rich mahogany, thick and sturdy. Snow had accumulated outside the windows like a white frame to the world.

  “Miss, are you awake?” Merry’s voice came through from the other side of the door.

  “Yes, come in,” I said as I straightened the covers around my legs.

  She inched inside, seeming apologetic for her presence. “I’ve come to build your fire.”

  “Thank you. That’s so kind of you.” At home, I was the first up and always built the fire.

  Merry crossed over to the fireplace and quickly started a fire from a few pieces of kindling. When that was going, she tossed logs from the bin into the flames.

  “Are you feeling well?” Merry asked. “How is your head?”

  I felt my head. The bump had reduced considerably. “I’m completely recovered. Nothing to worry over.”

  “Breakfast is downstairs in the dining room,” Merry said. “Lord Barnes and the children always eat at eight. He asked that you join them.”

  “Thank you, Merry.” That’s right. It was Saturday. All days had merged together during my long trip.

  “My pleasure, miss.” She gestured toward the wardrobe. “May I take your dirty underclothes to wash?”

  Merry was washing my clothes? At home, my sister and I did all the wash on Saturday, using two tubs of water that took hours to heat on the stove, and then strung everything across the front room to dry.

  I went to the wardrobe and picked out my underclothes. Ashamed, I handed them to her. I’d worn the same ones for days. They probably smelled horrific. Merry seemed undaunted. “What about the dress?” she asked.

  “It’s exceedingly dirty,” I said, pulling my plain gingham dress from the wardrobe where I’d hung it the night before. Dirt and grime had soaked into the bottom, despite the ankle-length hem.

  “I’ll take care of it, Miss Cooper.” She smiled, seemingly pleased.

  After she left, I dressed by the fire in my Sunday best. My sister had sewn a dress in a light blue wool serge with a gray trim from a pattern she’d borrowed from a neighbor. Between that and my teacher uniform, we’d used the last of the money I’d set aside for my wardrobe. There had been none left for a new coat, but the dress was beautifully sewn. What I would do when the weather warmed, I was uncertain. I’d decide when the time came.

  I fixed my hair, enjoying how clean and shiny it felt as I wrapped it into a bun at the base of my neck. What a luxury to have fresh hair. I hadn’t felt as rested or good since the day before I left home. I still had no idea what I was going to do about a hat. Had Harley been able to rescue it from the accident?

  By this time, the clock said it was five minutes to eight. I examined myself in the mirror, not displeased with my reflection. The smudges beneath my eyes had lightened. My cheeks were pink from the chilly room and my eyes bright.

  As I came out of my room, Flynn came barreling out of his. “Last one downstairs is a rotten egg.” Theo followed shortly thereafter, holding a book against his chest.

  He smiled shyly at me. “Good morning, Miss Cooper. Flynn thinks everything’s a race.”

  “That’s quite all right,” I said. “Does anyone ever race him?”

  “Only Cymbeline,” Theo said. “But she never wins. One time she slipped and sprained her ankle.”

  “Dear me.”

  “Someday, when I’m a doctor, I’ll know how to fix an ankle and the bump on your head.”

  “You want to be a doctor?” I asked.

  “Yes, Miss Cooper. A good doctor that fixes people.” A shadow crossed over his face. “Even ones where the sickness is the kind you can’t see, like my mother had.”

  I practically had to put my hands around my own neck to keep from asking a follow-up question to this first hint about the late Lady Barnes.

  The girls tumbled from their room, wearing dark blue dresses with white pinafores. Fiona’s and Cymbeline’s dark curls were pinned back with a white bow. Josephine wore her long blond hair in a braid down her back.

  “Hello, Miss Cooper,” Cymbeline said, grinning. “Josephine helped us dress because Nanny Foster ran away.”

  “She did?” I asked Josephine, deferring to the oldest child.

  “She’s gone back to the east,” Josephine said, looking solemn. “She didn’t like us.”

  “We didn’t like her,” Cymbeline said.

  I hid a smile. I hadn’t liked her much either.

  “Who are you?” Fiona asked, her eyes wide.

  “That’s our teacher,” Josephine said. “Don’t you remember her from last night?”

  “Oh, yes. The fainting lady,” Fiona said. “I forgot.”

  “Are you going to live here now?” Cymbeline asked.

  “For a while anyway,” I said. “Is that all right with you?”

  Cymbeline shrugged. “I guess so.”

  Falling into step with Josephine, we followed the little girls down the hallway. “Will you have a new nanny?” I asked.

  “We don’t need one,” Josephine said. “They have me.”

  “You did a wonderful job dressing them this morning,” I said.

  “Thank you, Miss Cooper,” Josephine said, beaming up at me. “I love church.”

  “Me too.” I held on to the railing as we headed down the stairs to the main floor.

  “Come on, Miss Cooper,” Cymbeline said. “I’ll show you where breakfast is.” She held out her hand and I took it.

  “I want to show her.” Fiona stomped her foot.

  I stretched my other hand out to her. “I have two hands.”

  Fiona lit up, then plopped her warm, chubby hand into mine. “Your hands are cold.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said. “Isn’t it lucky I have yours to warm me up?”

  We entered through double doors to the dining room. Lord Barnes was already there, slumped over a cup of coffee and reading a book, with an untouched plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. He was dressed in an elegant suit, and his hair was damp and slicked back. He looked ready for church. However, there was a quality about him this morning that seemed completely different from the man I’d met the night before. I imagined a cloud hovered over him.

  Lord Barnes stood to greet us. His eyes were puffy, and there were several nicks on his chin from shaving. His complexion looked green, like Mr. Jones who lived down the street and often stayed out all night drinking. I’d often seen him stumbling home in the early morning when I was on my way to work at the bakery where I assisted Mrs. Caper with the morning batches of bread.

  I caught a whiff of his shaving soap. “Good morning, Miss Cooper. Girls.”

  “Morning, Papa,” the girls said, in perfect harmony.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “You’re all looking lovely.” He sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

  “Papa, what’s wrong?” Josephine asked. “Are you ill?”

  “No, darling. I had a terrible night’s sleep. I’ll have to have a nap after church.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. If Lord Barnes had proven to be a drunk, I’d have been e
xtremely disappointed to learn that my first impression was wrong.

  Fiona and Cymbeline led me over to the head of the table. “This is where you should sit,” Cymbeline said to me. The table was set with places for seven, with shining silver utensils and delicate china painted with a pattern of pink roses.

  “But first you have to get a plate of food,” Josephine said.

  The boys were at the buffet with Jasper, who was scooping scrambled eggs onto their plates.

  “Have whatever suits you for breakfast,” Lord Barnes said.

  My stomach rumbled in response. The scent of bacon and coffee had me salivating and light-headed. Taking a cue from the girls, I loaded my plate with eggs, bacon, and slices of toasted bread spread with butter.

  Now that I looked more closely at Jasper, he also looked tired and sad. What had happened after I went to bed last night?

  The boys had already taken places on either side of their father. A chandelier made of glass hung over a rectangular dining table. Dark walls and almost crude-looking furniture, including a buffet and hutch, seemed rustic and rich all at once. A bank of windows looked out to a world covered in a white blanket. Thin winter sunlight filtered through the glass. Outside, sparrows leapt between pines and firs with branches laden with snow.

  As directed, I sat at one end of the long table. My eyes met Lord Barnes’s briefly before I directed my gaze toward the two little girls who were squabbling over who was granted permission to sit next to me.

  Lord Barnes returned to his coffee and book. This house did not seem to have rules about children being seen and not heard. Perhaps this was part of Nanny Foster’s concern? Myself, I liked to hear children’s voices and thoughts, even if this wasn’t really the way of most households.

  “I’ll sit between you.” I patted the places on either side of me. “One here. One there. Will that do?” I asked.

  They both nodded and climbed onto the chairs. Josephine shot me a conspiratorial look as if to acknowledge how naughty the “children” were. She took the chair next to Cymbeline.

  To my alarm, the Barnes children dived into their food. Weren’t we going to say grace? And why was Lord Barnes reading at the table? Children being allowed to talk was one thing, but this was quite another.

  “Are you not hungry, Miss Cooper?” Josephine’s fork was poised midair as she peered at me.

  Flynn, with a bite of toast in his mouth, mumbled something I couldn’t decipher to Theo. Fiona hummed softly and swung her legs under the table while spreading jam on her toast. Cymbeline pushed her eggs around her plate, presumably to make it look as if she’d eaten.

  Lord Barnes looked up from his book. “Miss Cooper? Is something wrong?” He looked so utterly done in and sad I lost my will to educate them on proper breakfast behavior.

  “I don’t know if I should say,” I said.

  “No, please. If something’s troubling you, just come out with it,” Lord Barnes said.

  I cleared my throat and used my best schoolteacher voice. “First, one shouldn’t read at the table during meals. Secondly, grace should be said before anyone even thinks about picking up a fork. Third, Flynn, we don’t talk with our mouths full.”

  A flicker of guilt mixed with amusement crossed Lord Barnes’s face as he closed his book and set it aside. “Anything else, Miss Cooper?”

  “Not at the moment,” I said, emboldened by the way the children had all paused in their fevered consumption to stare at me.

  “You’re quite right on all counts,” Lord Barnes said. “Would you do the honors, Miss Cooper?”

  I nodded. “Put down your forks and bow your heads.”

  To my surprise, the children did as I asked. There was a great clattering of forks against china before they all bowed their heads obediently.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for the bounty we’re about to enjoy,” I said. “Please watch over us today. Amen.”

  A chorus of “amen” came from around the table, before the enjoyment of the meal resumed.

  I took a bite from my toast and almost fainted at the divine taste of freshly churned butter on warm bread.

  Flynn’s head tilted to one side. “Miss Cooper, how come people can’t talk with their mouths full?”

  “Because it’s rude,” I said. “Bad manners.”

  “Nanny Foster told us that already,” Theo said to his brother.

  “I never heard her,” Flynn said.

  Lord Barnes lifted his gaze toward me. “You’re looking well-rested, Miss Cooper.”

  “Thank you. I am. The bed in my room was the most comfortable I’ve ever slept on.” I had to hold back my praise of the indoor plumbing. Instead, I ate from the creamy eggs on my plate.

  “Were you warm enough, Miss Cooper?” Josephine asked, sounding much too grown-up for thirteen.

  “Oh yes. The feather comforter kept me cozy,” I said. “Merry ran a hot bath for me, which was heavenly.” I leaned close to Fiona and whispered, “I was able to wash my hair.”

  “I like your hair,” Fiona whispered back.

  “I like your hair,” I said. There was a spot of red jam in the middle of her chin. I reached over with my napkin to swipe it away. “But we can’t have a sticky face now, can we?”

  Fiona giggled. “I love jam.”

  “Jam is one of life’s best things.” She was so dear. The child had no mother, no woman to love her and nurture her.

  Jasper approached with a silver coffeepot in one large hand. “May I offer you coffee, Miss Cooper?”

  I almost squealed with delight. “Oh my. I haven’t had a decent cup in ages. Yes, please.” Jasper poured a steaming cup for me. The rich, toasty aroma filled my nose as I took a happy sip. An appreciative grunt escaped before I could censor myself. “Oh my, that’s delicious.”

  I looked up to see Lord Barnes smiling at me from over his own cup. “I see you enjoy your coffee as much as your food.”

  Laughing, I set the cup back into its saucer. “This was worth the train ride.”

  I’d just finished my second piece of bacon when Lizzie came into the room with another tray of toast and set it in the middle of the table. “The boys always want more toast,” she said, glancing in my direction. “Hollow leg, these two.”

  She winked at me, and I smiled back. In the light of day, I could see she was older than I’d first thought. A sparkle in her eyes and the quick way she darted around a room made her seem youthful. I guessed her to be somewhere in her thirties, although her fair skin was virtually unwrinkled and her hair untouched with gray. Faint lines around her eyes hinted of a more mature woman. She wore a plain gray dress with a large white apron over the top. I’d have given a lot to fill out a dress in the way Lizzie did.

  “How will we get to church?” I asked. Before I’d agreed to stay at the house, I assumed I’d walk everywhere. Now I wasn’t certain, especially given the massive amount of snow on the ground.

  “We’ll go in the sleigh,” Lord Barnes said. “Just as we will tomorrow morning for the first day of school.”

  “What about me?” Fiona asked. “What will I do when everyone’s at school?”

  Lord Barnes frowned. “You’ll stay with Lizzie.”

  “I want to go to school.” Fiona stuck out her bottom lip. “Everyone has fun without me.”

  “You’re too young, love,” Lord Barnes said. “We’ve been over this.”

  Tears welled in the child’s eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. “I want to go.”

  “Can she go for me?” Flynn asked.

  “And me?” Cymbeline asked.

  “She may not,” Lord Barnes said. “It’s a privilege to go to school. One in which I’ve invested a lot of money and effort on your behalf. You’ll go, and I’ll hear no more about it.”

  I suspected Lord Barnes wasn’t often stern with them, because the twins exchanged a nervous glance and Cymbeline busied herself with a piece of toast.

  “Eat a bite of eggs,” I said to Cymbeline.

  Her big eyes w
idened, then hardened. “I don’t like eggs.”

  “They’re good for you,” I said. “They help grow your brain and make you strong and fast.”

  “They do?” Cymbeline asked.

  I nodded and motioned toward her untouched piece of bacon. “Bacon too.”

  “I can’t eat that,” Cymbeline said, shuddering. “It’s from Harry.”

  “Harry?” I asked.

  “Our pig,” Josephine said. “Our pig who was not a pet.”

  “He was raised for food,” Theo said, speaking for the first time. “But Cym loved him. She loves all animals.” His tone was serious, as was the concerned wrinkle of his forehead. “There are two types in this family. Those who like books and those who like animals.”

  “Papa likes both,” Josephine said. “And we don’t yet know about Fiona because she’s too little.”

  “I’m big.” Fiona scowled as she held up three fingers. “I’m this many.”

  “You’re a very big girl,” I said. “And big girls don’t make a fuss.”

  Fiona continued to scowl but consoled herself with another piece of toast and jam.

  Cymbeline tapped my forearm. “Do you see this?” With her other hand, she raised her fork to her mouth and took a bite of eggs.

  “Good girl,” I said. “I can practically see you growing.”

  Cymbeline grinned and took another bite.

  “And you?” I asked Josephine. “Books, I’m guessing.”

  “That’s correct.” She lifted her pointy chin and granted me a prim smile. “One can go anywhere in a book.”

  “In case you want to know, I’m the animal type,” Flynn said. “And the type who doesn’t want to go to school when there’s adventures out there.” He pointed toward the window.

  “School can be an adventure,” I said. “Learning new things brings adventure, anyway. You can’t expect to go out into the world without knowing how to read, write, and do arithmetic.”

  Flynn sighed. “If you say so.”

  “I like books,” Theo said. “Animals do not smell good. I have a sensitive nose.”

  I laughed. A sensitive nose? Where had he heard that from?