“Poppy’s my best friend,” Josephine said as they clasped hands.
Harley placed his bandaged hand on top of Poppy’s knit cap. “We’re lucky to have such good friends and employers.”
Poppy and Josephine exchanged a smile.
Flynn and Cymbeline ran up, out of breath and glowing from the cold and exercise. Snow dusted their coats and boots. Behind me, the door opened, and Lord Barnes joined us.
“Have you met Oliver and Twist, Miss Cooper?” Lord Barnes asked.
“We’re giving Prince and Pauper the day off,” Harley said. “Since they had a scare.”
Flynn patted Twist on his neck. “He’s a good boy, this one.”
“Papa named them,” Theo said. “After the Dickens character.”
“I had a suspicion,” I said.
The children clambered into the sleigh. The boys squeezed into the back seat while Harley helped the three girls into the middle. Lord Barnes held out his hand to assist me into the front row, behind the driver’s seat. As Harley jumped up, Lord Barnes smoothed a blanket over my lap.
The children were a jolly bunch by the time we set out from the house. Laughter and high-pitched chatter mingled with the jingle of the horses’ bells as we glided through the snow. With the sky a bright blue, brilliant against the white backdrop, it was hard to believe that a blizzard had come through hours before. I turned back to take a good look at the house. Made of red brick, with two large pillars in the front, the house was as pretty as any I’d ever seen, even in the most expensive parts of Boston.
“However did you build such a beautiful house in this remote place?” I asked Lord Barnes.
“One brick at a time,” he said. “It took me several years. I brought Ida out from New York after that. She didn’t want to come out here before it was completed.”
Being this close to him gave me a strange sensation—excited and safe at the same time. Drifts of snow had settled in his dark eyebrows, making them appear white. Fortunately, my arms were firmly tucked under the blanket or I might have been tempted to brush them away.
I looked away, toward the white field and red barn. “This is like a painting.” I said this as a way to break this magnetic pull between us. Even so, the statement was true. I’d never seen a prettier landscape than the one before me now.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Very much. There’s something so calming about the snow, don’t you think?”
He nodded, but his eyes lost focus, as if he had slipped behind a curtain. “My late wife hated the snow. She never adjusted to our winters.”
Oliver and Twist neighed cheerfully as we turned right onto what appeared to be a road of packed snow, made slick by the passing of other sleighs.
“Ida was from New York,” Lord Barnes said. “She couldn’t understand my love of this place. The way the air is so crisp and sharp and the sky this remarkable blue, even in the winter.”
“It’s a remarkable blue,” I said.
A second later, I spotted the smoke from several chimneys before I saw town. “Oh, it
’s lovely,” I said, surprised by the quaint brick buildings that lined both sides of a street. Granted, there weren’t many, but enough to make up a town.
“What did you expect?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” This wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t want to insult him by explaining my perceptions. The town was personal to him. He was invested in Emerson Pass in a way one is when they’ve helped to make something out of nothing. What I’d imagined was a dirty street and a collection of haphazardly constructed buildings, everything centered around the mining operation.
Beside me, Lord Barnes sighed. “I’ll have to see the pastor before service and tell him what’s happened to Samuel.” The muscles in his face contorted before he hung his head. “I can’t believe Samuel’s gone.”
Tears came to my eyes at the mournful tone of his voice, the heartache of loss in every word. “Oh, Lord Barnes, I’m sorry.”
Grief was like this. Out of nowhere, the reality of one’s loss crushed and shoved aside all other thoughts. Seeing a grown man, especially one as dignified yet playful as Lord Barnes, crushed by his grief tore at my heart. I wished there were something I could do. Having lost my father, whom I loved so dearly, I knew there was nothing, short of bringing the person back to life. Still, I asked the question. “Is there anything I can do?”
His eyes softened. “You have a kind heart, Miss Cooper—crying for a man you never knew.”
“I know you,” I said. “And it’s obvious what a terrible blow this is. That’s enough to make me cry.”