“Yes, yes, please, Papa.”
We made our way to a bench. Grateful for the rest, I waited while Alexander and Fiona fetched the popcorn from Mrs. Johnson. Soon, they were back with three bags. With Fiona between us, we sat and munched on the salty treat and watched the skaters. The fiddler player continued his merry music. Harley and Merry skated by us, holding hands.
Fiona yawned. “Are you sleepy?” I asked her.
“No, Miss Quinn.”
It was a fib, of course. No three-year-old ever wanted to admit to needing a nap.
“I’m tired too,” I said. “Perhaps your papa would take us both home? We can have a snuggle and a book.”
Fiona brightened. “Just you and me and Papa?”
“Won’t that be lovely?” I asked.
After arranging with Harley to bring the others later, Alexander helped Fiona and me into the smaller sleigh. Oliver and Twist nuzzled noses before we set out toward home at a leisurely pace. Alexander seemed in no hurry. Fiona fell asleep against me.
My eyelids grew heavy. I was drifting off to sleep w
hen I saw a small figure walking just inside the drifts of packed snow that defined the road. I instantly recognized the patchwork coat. “It’s Louisa,” I said.
Alexander slowed the horses. She carried a package wrapped in butcher paper and walked with her head down. Only when we had come parallel to us did she look over at us. Lord Barnes pulled the reins, stopping the horses.
“Louisa,” I said. “Would you care for a ride home?”
Her wan face under the bright sunlight seemed constructed of delicate bird bones. She wore her usual ragged knit hat that smashed her dirty hair against the sides of her neck. Her teeth chattered from cold. I silently cursed her father.
“No, thank you, Miss Cooper.” She held up the package in her bare hands. “This here’s fish heads, and I don’t want to smell up your sleigh.”
“They won’t smell up my sleigh,” Alexander said. “This is a magic sleigh.”
She squinted up at him, then at the warm blankets. I could see in her eyes the struggle to decide. Instinctively, I knew it was fear of her father that kept her from climbing inside. He would question how she knew us, and then her precious secret would be known.
“We’ll take you as far as your driveway,” I said. “It’s on our way. You can jump out and walk the rest of the way to your house.”
She clutched her package to her chest. “Yes, all right. Just to the driveway.”
Alexander had already hopped down to help her. He lifted her into the seat next to Fiona and tucked a blanket around her shoulders. In comparison to my little sweetheart, Fiona, Louisa smelled of woodsmoke, lard, and dirty hair. The fish were the least of it.
“Lord Barnes,” I said as we set out. “Did you have any of that popcorn left?”
“Why yes, I do.” He reached into his coat pocket and brought out the paper bag. “Louisa, would you like some?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t want it?” I could practically sense her mouth start to water. I remembered the sensation only too well from my own childhood.
“Yes, Miss Louisa, it’s for you,” Alexander said as he handed it to her. “I’m getting quite fat, if you want to know the truth. You’ll be saving me from eating the rest.”
She giggled. “You’re not fat, Lord Barnes.”
For a second, she stared at the popcorn bag as if she distrusted the contents. Her forehead creased. “Maybe I should save it for Pa. He sent me to town because his stomach was empty and causing him pain.”
“I think it’d be best you eat it before we drop you,” I said, thinking quickly. “Otherwise, he’ll wonder where you got it.”
“Yes, Miss Cooper.” She opened the bag and reached inside, pulling out a handful and stuffing it in her mouth. I decided against the lesson on manners. When a child was as hungry as Louisa, the last thing she needed was me lecturing her about how a young lady should eat popped corn.
I exchanged a look with Alexander before he clicked the reins and the horses began to trot. After a moment, I turned to Louisa. A path of tears had streaked her dirty face. She’d been crying.
She’d been in town to beg for fish heads from the Higgins brothers and had seen us all skating. I remembered the pang of jealousy; the awful sour feeling in the pit of my stomach; the sensation of acceptance that everyone in the world had more than I and always would. Their laughter and bright coats were swords that had slashed through me and cut away any hope that I belonged. I was on the outside of a world where there were such luxuries as a full stomach and ice-skating.