Page 8 of The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Historicals 1)

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.

The doctor placed his hands on my scalp and felt around.

I yelped as he pressed his fingers into the bump.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

I nodded. “Did my cry of pain give

you a clue?”

“Be gentle, Moore,” Lord Barnes said from somewhere in the room. “Miss Cooper’s been through enough.”

“She has a bump the size of an egg,” Moore said in a tone that implied it was my fault. If only I had a head strong enough to withstand a collision with a tree.

He asked me to follow his finger back and forth. “No troubles seeing, then?” he asked.

“No, Doctor.”

“Double vision?”

I shook my head.

“Excellent. My diagnosis is you have a large bump on your head. Nothing to worry about, but I’d suggest a good meal and a decent night’s rest, and you’ll wake up right as rain.”

His assessment didn’t give me complete faith in his scientific qualifications. My mother could have identified a bump and advised bed. However, his recommendation of a meal warmed me to him somewhat.

The doctor pulled out a vial of white powder. “Give her this in some brandy,” Dr. Moore said.

I wasn’t certain what the brandy was for, but I didn’t want to cause further attention by asking.