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, leapt 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 l
oud 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.