The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  “Miss Quinn, come with me.” Cymbeline dragged me over to the stall where a fawn-colored cow with large brown eyes chewed her cud. “This is Buttercream.” Buttercream looked unbothered by my presence, busy as she was with the cud.

  “She’s a Jersey,” Flynn said as he sidled up next to me and petted Buttercream’s head. “This old girl makes the best cream.” He rubbed his stomach. “Lizzie churns it into butter.”

  “We have cream with the wild berries in the summer,” Josephine said from behind me.

  “Harley grows raspberries.” I turned to see that Poppy had joined us. She wore a pair of overalls made of denim and a knit cap over her two braids. How freeing it must be to wear any form of trousers. I wished the other girls could dress the same, while tramping around in the barn anyway. As for me, I would have been delighted to be out of a corset and a dress.

  I walked over to the stalls where Lord Barnes shoveled horse dung. I’d thought Lord Barnes would look out of place with a shovel in his hand, given his pedigree and that crisp British accent. Wearing long rubber boots over his wool trousers, and an old tweed coat, he looked as if he belonged here. If anything, he looked even better out here than inside, which I hadn’t anticipated possible. Perhaps feeling my gaze, he looked up from his work. “Hello there. What do you think about our little farm?”

  “I like it quite well.”

  “We don’t bother with beef,” Lord Barnes said. “We buy our meat from the Cassidy farm.”

  “What about the pigs? Do we eat them?” I asked.

  “We slaughter a few for us and sell the others to the Higgins boys,” he said.

  Why? I wondered. Didn’t Lord Barnes have enough money without raising pigs?

  “I wanted the children to have some experience with real work,” Lord Barnes said, as if I’d asked my question out loud. He leaned against his shovel. “The pigs are their responsibility. They raise and sell them for profit, which then goes into funds for their future. The rest of the farm is for our consumption.”

  “The lessons they learn from their enterprise will be invaluable to them,” I said.

  “It’s my hope,” he said before going back to his shoveling.

  “Miss Quinn, do want to help us gather the eggs?” Cymbeline asked.

  I most certainly did not want to help gather eggs. Chickens scared me. What if they didn’t want to give up their eggs? However, I knew it wasn’t a good example for our human chicks to see my fear, so I agreed.

  “How do I do it?” I asked as we stood in front of the nest boxes. Each box had a brown egg tangled in straw.

  “First, we’ll scatter some feed for them in there.” Cymbeline pointed to a small area closer to the front of the barn. She called for Fiona.

  Fiona came running over. “Is it time?”

  Josephine reached into a bin from the shelf hanging on the wall and scooped a handful of corn and grain into a small tin bucket. She handed it to Fiona. “Here you are.”

  Fiona, bucket swinging in her pudgy hand, walked to the feeding area. The hens gathered around. For a moment I was worried they were going to peck at the small girl, but the moment Fiona tossed the first handful, they focused on their breakfast.

  “Now we collect the eggs while they eat,” Cymbeline said as she handed me another bucket. “Once we have them all, we take them to Lizzie. She washes them in her big sink.”

  “Lizzie won’t allow anyone else to wash the eggs. She’s afraid we’ll get sick if they’re not washed properly,” Josephine said.

  I leaned closer to inspect the egg in the first box. It wasn’t terribly dirty, but I was certain the brown spot on part of the shell was dried chicken manure. Grateful for my new gloves while simultaneously hoping they were washable, I reached in and grabbed the egg, then set my prize gently at the bottom of the pail. I glanced behind me to see if any of the hens were ready to claw my eyes out for stealing their eggs. They were all too busy with their corn to notice me. “Does Harley do all these chores while you’re at school?” How did he do all of this alone?

  “No, Merry gets to collect eggs during the week,” Cymbeline said, bitterly. “She’s lucky. Saturdays and Sundays are the best days.”

  I gathered a few more eggs, as did the girls. Soon, the nests were empty. Cymbeline and I then took out any soiled straw and replaced it with new. Josephine swept the floor of scraps of straw and other debris. Flynn was over with Buttercream doing the milking while Theo fed Sweetpea. Lord Barnes continued his hard work in the stalls.

  All in all, I had to agree with Cymbeline. Saturday was a good day.

  Later, I was coming out of the nursery after putting Fiona down for a nap when I ran into Lord Barnes.

  “Miss Cooper, how did you enjoy your first day as a farmer?” he asked.

  “This has been the best time of my life.” I smiled up at him. “Everything. The school, your children. Even the pigs.”

  “Is this only a position to you?” he asked softly as he looked down at me with vulnerability in his eyes. For a man rich and powerful, he appeared no older than Theo.

  “I’m fond of the children, thus it doesn’t feel like work.” I stared at the tips of my boots, shy but unable to depart. The hallway, dim and narrow, made it impossible to ignore how his presence made my skin tingle and my pulse race.

  He inched closer. I caught the pleasant scent of his shaving soap. He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “Is it only the children you care for, or is there room in your heart for me?"

  My stomach turned over. “There’s room for you. A lot of room.”

  He grazed my cheek with the backs of his fingers, his eyes pools of sincerity. “I’ll fill every empty spot of your heart if you’ll allow me to.”

  “Lord Barnes, you’re bold and terribly inappropriate.” I cocked my head to the side and gave him a sassy, flirtatious smile. This was a dangerous game to play with my employer. Somehow, I didn’t care. I was as reckless and wild as the animals that roamed outside these walls.

  “Do you think I’m playing with you?” he asked, smiling down at me.

  “I think you’re a lord and I’m a schoolteacher. Is this a game to you?”

  “I don’t play games. Titles mean nothing when it comes to the heart. I’m a man who knows what he wants.”

  I swallowed. “Good, because I’ve never cared for games.” I turned away, feeling his gaze on my backside as I walked on shaky legs toward my room. Once inside, I plopped on my bed, dizzy from the interaction. A craving as I’d never experienced had taken hold of me. I wanted Lord Alexander Barnes in my bed. What kind of wanton woman was I? But again, I couldn’t seem to muster any shame.

  Chapter 18

  Alexander

  That evening, after bathing and replacing my work clothes with dinner attire, I passed by the closed door of the girls’ room. From inside came the high-pitched voices of Fiona and Cymbeline, then Miss Cooper’s lower one. The boys were not in their room, so I assumed they must be bathing. Since she had everything under control, I headed downstairs to my library to spend a few minutes reading by the fire.

  I sat in my favorite leather chair. My muscles were pleasantly tired from the day’s work. I was looking forward to a warm supper and more time with my kids and the beautiful woman who had appeared out of nowhere in my house and life. Miss Cooper had offered to put together a hearty soup. Usually on Saturdays, Lizzie left us slices of cold ham and a German-style potato salad.

  I vacillated between euphoria and utter mortification at the way Miss Cooper’s eyes had shone when I’d so brazenly spoken my thoughts out loud. I was so preoccupied by my juvenile misstep and the periodic images of her flushed skin and lips the color of ripe raspberries that it was impossible to concentrate on the book in my lap.

  After a few minutes of blissful quiet where I contemplated all things Miss Cooper instead of reading, Jasper announced the arrival of Mrs. Cole.

  “Shall I send her in?” he asked.

  I rubbed my eyes and set aside my book
. “Yes, please.” Weary, I rose from the chair and prepared myself for the inevitable onslaught of her rage. I must remember what I promised Samuel. I was to look after her. If that meant I had to take the brunt of her anger, then so be it. Seconds later, she burst into the room. “Thank you for seeing me,” Rachel said.

  “Please, have a seat. Jasper can bring tea.”

  “No, I can’t stay. I’ve come to say I’m sorry for acting like a spoiled child.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. “There’s no need.”

  She bounced around my library like a coiled spring, all the while working a lace handkerchief between her long fingers. “I’m angry and took it out on you, which wasn’t fair. You’ve been nothing but good to me. To us. Did you know you’re the only one who stood by Samuel when he came back with me?”

  Standing near the fire, I gripped my hands together behind my back. “Grief makes us say strange things. You mustn’t think about it another moment.”

  “Wilber, my brother, has come. I feel safer with him at the house.” She sank into the couch, as if suddenly exhausted. “He’s ashamed of me—keeping us all hidden like mole rats. He thinks the children should go to school. He said my fear shouldn’t keep them from opportunity.”

  “What do you think?” I asked quietly as I sat across from her.

  “I think what I’ve always thought. It’s best to stay away from trouble.” She spread the handkerchief over her lap. “That said, I’ve decided to send them to school. Wilber will drive them.” With her head tilted downward, she spoke so softly I leant forward to hear her better. “I should never have come here in the first place. Shouldn’t have let myself fall in love with Samuel.”

  “In the history of humankind, I don’t think we’ve ever been successful in denying the heart’s desires.”

  She looked up at me. “What about you? Do you ever curse yourself for falling in love with Ida?”

  I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say how I’d cursed God and my own foolish heart. How could this be the woman I’d pledged my life to? I didn’t say any of those things, of course. What good would it have done Rachel to hear how broken our union had been? “She gave me five wonderful children. For this I’m grateful.”

  “When does the gratitude come back? Right now, I’m just so mad at him.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the same for everyone,” I said. “My feelings for Ida were complicated. By the end, I was so twisted up in guilt and contempt and fear that I couldn’t even recall my early feelings of love for her. Now, though, I remember the few good times we had.” I smiled at the memory of the first time I’d been introduced to Ida at her father’s apartment in Manhattan. She’d looked lovely and pristine in a white dress, and yet her eyes had portrayed a wild recklessness I’d been drawn to. “The initial qualities that attracted me to her were the ones that inevitably broke me.”

  Rachel’s brown eyes had softened. “We were never sure exactly what went on over here.”

  “She was very sick for a long time.” I kept it at that. The secrets of Ida’s troubles would remain within this house. I had a strange sensation sometimes that if I spoke about them, even here with my trusted staff and the children, it would make the terror of those times remain within these walls and taint any future in which there was more laughter than tears. “There was nothing I could do to help her.”

  “We suspected as much,” Rachel said. “Samuel was never one to ask.”

  “No, most men don’t. Although we know anyway.”

  “I’m sorry we weren’t better friends to you.”

  “You were. Samuel was always there when I needed to go fishing or be outside. Seeing him happy with you gave me a great deal of joy.”

  She twisted her handkerchief around one finger like a bandage as she spoke. “Between Samuel and me, it was good. We didn’t always agree, but we respected each other. From the beginning, it was as if we’d always been together, and then those babies came, and I had everything I could ever want. I’ve always been strong. A person like me had to be, God knows, in this world that’s been set up to bring me down on my knees at every turn. But this. Going on. Living. I can’t imagine how I will.”

  “You will.” I’d wondered the same after Ida’s death. I could remember wanting nothing more than to sleep. To shut away everything. But I had to continue on for the children. I had to make sure their childhood wasn’t only about their mother’s illness and death. I’d wondered how the children would ever be happy again. Theo’s pinched, drawn face the night after he’d found her lying dead in the snow hovered before me. I blinked to get rid of the picture. “I thought the same, but somehow you do.”

  Footsteps down the stairs, followed by voices and laughter, interrupted our conversation. Rachel startled at the noise. “Are those the children? What’s happened to the terrifying nanny?”

  “She left. We have Miss Cooper now.”

  “The schoolteacher is here? Living with you?”

  I waited until I heard them all head downstairs to the kitchen before I explained, rather awkwardly, how Miss Cooper had come to stay with us and her subsequent offer to take the place of the nanny. “The staff is off today. She and the kids are going to the kitchen to make something for supper.”

  “I haven’t heard them sound like that—happy and gay—I don’t think ever,” Rachel said. “This Miss Cooper must be special.”

  “The kids fell for her rather quickly.” As had I. The fire had died down and the chill crept in like a thief. I tossed in a few more logs. “All in all, yes, she’s quite remarkable.”

  Rachel’s quick mind was already way ahead of me. Not surprising. Women were always smarter than men about matters of the heart. “Alexander?” That’s all. Just my name, yet I knew exactly what she was asking.

  “I can’t seem to help myself.” I gave her a reluctant smile.

  “Don’t. It’s no crime to be happy. This is a lonely country all alone. The winters are long without someone to warm your toes.”

  I returned to the fireplace and retrieved the poker. “She’s young. Only twenty-two.” I prodded the logs into a better position before returning to my chair. “I’m not sure she’d be interested in an old man like me.”

  “Love knows no age or color.” She smiled in a way that didn’t reach her eyes. “Anyway, if you have a chance for love, you best take it. You never know how long you’ll get.”

  I fought the lump in my throat. “It’s still hard for me to understand he’s gone.”

  “Yes.” She stuck her handkerchief into the sleeve of her dress and scooted to the edge of the couch cushion. “I should go. I left the kids with Wilber. They may have tied him up by now.”

  I stood when she did. “Before you go, we should talk about what I’ve learned.”

  She went still. “What you learned?” The words were like a dry creek bed, desperate for rain.

  “It’s nothing, really.” I summarized what the Higgins brothers had told me and followed up with my conversation with the sheriff.

  “What you’re telling me is that we’ll never find out who did this,” she said.

  I nodded. “I respect you too much to lie to you. But I’ve come to a similar conclusion.”

  She touched her fingertips to her forehead. “I should get back. Thank you, Alexander.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I watched her leave, her posture ramrod straight, as if she were holding herself together by sheer will.

  Chapter 19

  Quinn

  On Tuesday evening, Harley drove Merry and me into town thirty minutes before our first night class so we could stoke the fire I’d left that afternoon. As I wrote the lesson on the blackboard, I feared no one would show. It had dumped snow for hours. Although clear now, the temperatures had dropped into the teens. Until the heater warmed the room, it was too cold to take off coats. I kept mine on as I wrote a lesson on the board. Merry stoked the dying embers back to life with a couple pieces of kindling. Harley shoveled a walkway in front
of the porch.

  I turned from the board as a woman walked through the door. There was no mistaking who she was. Dark-skinned with enormous brown eyes and a long, graceful neck, Rachel Cole wore a fashionable and expensive-looking coat over the latest style boots.

  “I’m Mrs. Cole.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I held out my hand and we shook. Her gloves were made of fine black leather. I was self-conscious of my rough nails and calluses. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to get a look at you,” she said.

  “A look at me?” I swallowed as my stomach twitched from within. Her hat was the most beautiful I’d ever seen other than in Vogue, where they displayed all the Paris fashions. The closest I came to those were the clothes my sister made from the pictures.

  “You can’t know a person without looking into their eyes,” she said.

  I smiled and widened my eyes. “What do you see?”

  “Someone either naïve or brave.” Her mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile.

  “I suppose I could be both. Maybe one naturally goes with the other?”

  “I’ll just say straight out, Miss Cooper. My children look like me, not their father. This means they’re not welcome here in town. When Alexander came to talk to me after Samuel died, I sent him away. I couldn’t bear the thought of them coming here and being hurt. They’re all I have.” Her voice caught. She dropped her gaze to her hands. “Alexander spoke highly of you. He seems to think you’ll treat my babies like you do the others.”

  “You have my word.” I stared back at this formidable woman, trying not to let my intimidation show. She was exceptionally pretty. Tall in stature, and eyes that seemed to peer right into my mind. I felt a fraud under her scrutiny. And even shorter and scrawnier than usual.

  “Will you teach them the same as you do the others or will you make them learn on the porch?”