And besides, if he hadn’t been ignoring them, things might have turned out very differently.
While Libba was always quietly sure that she was the special one, between herself and her brother, it was Malcolm who discovered what made him truly miraculous first.
That was just because he was older, she reasoned.
He’d had more time, after all.
His favorite toy for as long as Libba could remember had been the old abacus in the nursery. It had once been part of her father’s office on the wharf, but he had bought a new one and while their mother had still lived, she had painted all the beads different, bright colors for tiny Malcolm to play with, sliding them back and forth on their wires.
So, it wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t surprising at all, she thought, that he held the abacus in his head. And that counting came as naturally to him as breathing.
The surprising part was how much other people seemed to enjoy it. Word spread quickly about the little numbers boy on the beach, and for the first few breaths of it, Libba had thought it unbearable.
It was Jasper who made it all right again.
It was Jasper who whispered ideas in her ear about bringing him to the pavilions and putting a hat out to collect coins. And it was Jasper who had asked for her help and who had recognized her talent for becoming as many people as she needed to be to accomplish a feat, no matter how large.
Betsy whispered loudly about the marvel of the Marvelous Human Abacus in crowded shops and busy street corners. Lilibet sold tickets for private performances in fancy house parlors. Lizzie kept an eye on the hat when they did impromptu displays near the pavilions. And Libba? She was the one who made sure the money was fairly split up and distributed between the three of them.
That was the most important job, after all.
AndFaithernever once asked how they were buying nicer clothes and better toys. He might have glanced a second time at a pudding on the table that he didn’t remember putting there, but he seemed resigned to believe that he’d simply forgotten.
And so, there was nothing to stop them.
Until the baroness.
Libba noticed her first. She came to the pavilion. She came to some of the parlors too. And worst of all, she also came to the wharf.
Everyone seemed to know who she was, but no one ever said her name. Wherever the tall, auburn-haired woman appeared, Libba would hear her title whispered.Baroness.
Likelioness, Libba thought, privately.
Sometimes she had her other two children with her, a pudgy, dark-haired boy and a slight, brass-colored girl, neither of whom seemed very interested in Malcolm at all. Other times, she would be alone.
But she kept coming. She kept watching.
Until Libba couldn’t stand it anymore.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” she said, after half a dozen sightings of the tall, auburn-haired baroness had filled her with dread. “I checked. We’re not making any trouble at all!”
The baroness blinked at her in surprise, her eyes warm and brown and also a little bit sharp. “I never said you were, little one.”
“I am not little,” Libba said, though of course she was.
That made the baroness smile. “My apologies. I simply did not know which name to call you. You have so very many, don’t you? Which do you like best?”
Libba pressed her lips together, her cheeks heating with something between panic and fury. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
“Well, for example,” the baroness said, bending down to talk to Libba eye to eye. “I used to be Miss Starling. Now I am Lady Selwyn. Some people simply call me ‘the baroness’ or ‘my lady.’ But I prefer my given name. Willa. So, that is the one I would choose.”
Libba frowned. “My given name is Elizabeth.”
“Yes, I had gathered that much,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Does anyone call you ‘Elizabeth’?”
Libba shook her head, startled to realize that she’d never even considered crafting a fitting sensibility for her name in whole.
Truth be told, Elizabeth didn’t feel like it belonged to her.
