Chapter 3

Wilfred, the youngest coachman from Belgrave, had driven her on the journey from Hertfordshire to Hampshire, and they drove through St. Albans on the way. They stopped in Slough at a simple tavern and resumed the trip after a meal of sausages and cider. Angélique felt uncomfortable eating alone, while Wilfred ate with the stable boys in the barn. She sat quietly at a table in the corner. It was the first time in her life she had gone anywhere on her own, and she had much to think about. The death of her father, the sudden unexpected loss of her home, the betrayal of her brother, the money her father had given her, and the future that lay ahead of her, working as a nanny for strangers. Her brother had obviously planned that for some time, as a way to get rid of her. She had never expected something like this to happen, or to be cast out into the world without protection. And rather than living in the rarefied upstairs atmosphere of Belgrave Castle as the beloved daughter of a duke, she was now to be part of the downstairs world. She was familiar with it from running her father’s home, but she had never remotely suspected that it would be her own life one day. Everything was going to be very different now. And all she could hope was that the Fergusons were decent people, had a kind staff, and would treat her well.

Angélique had never put on airs, but her breeding and lineage were written all over her. She was every inch a lady of noble birth, in her speech, in her manners, in the way she moved, no matter what simple gown she wore. She had worn a plain black dress for the journey, and had brought the plainest clothes she owned, but all she had were the gowns of a lady, not a nanny. And the severity of her black clothes said that she was in mourning for someone close to her. She had lost not only her father, but her entire world, and she cried more than once on the way to Hampshire. She knew she would have to be brave once she got there, but as long as she was in the simple carriage, she could hang on to the last shreds of all she had known. It had come tumbling down all in a matter of days. It was what Tristan and Elizabeth had wanted to happen to her, and she knew that if her father could have known it, he would have been in despair. And there was no one she could turn to now. She would never contact her brothers again. She had barely seen Edward, but was sure he was aware of the plan. She wondered if they were celebrating at Belgrave. And she knew that the only place where she would be missed would be below stairs, where Hobson and Mrs. White would be mourning her departure, along with Mrs. Williams and the others who had known her all her life. They had lost the duke and his daughter at one swoop, and would have to deal with Tristan and Elizabeth now, who were cold, demanding, mean-spirited people with no heart, who loved to show off, and were always unkind to the servants when they were there.

It was late afternoon and nearly nightfall when they reached Alton in Hampshire. They had been traveling for eleven hours, bumping along in the chaise. It had been a long trip for the horses as well, but they had taken two strong sturdy ones that didn’t need to rest as often as their fine ones. And following the directions Tristan had given Wilfred, they easily found the house. It was a pretty manor house with well-tended grounds on a handsome estate, though by no means on the scale of Belgrave Castle. It was clearly the home of wealthy people, and the house looked relatively new, like the fortune of the man who had built it. Tristan had hinted that Mrs. Ferguson had married her husband for his money, which he lavished on her. She was from an aristocratic family, though her father was only a life peer with no inheritable title, and he had squandered his fortune on bad investments. So Ferguson had married her for her social position, and she for the life he could offer.

The house looked warm and inviting, as a footman came out and directed them to go around the back to the servants’ entrance. Wilfred had assumed that Lady Angélique would be going through the front door with her bags. He had no idea why she was there, and she didn’t tell him. All he knew was that she would be staying there for some time, and he thought they must be friends and she was taking a holiday to recover from her father’s death. He tried to explain that she was a guest, but the stern-faced footman continued to direct him to the rear entrance of the large house.

“I’m sorry, Your Ladyship,” Wilfred said in an undertone, looking embarrassed. “This clod would have us go in through the servants’ entrance. I can walk you around to the front,” he said as he pulled the chaise to a halt, and a groom held the horses’ heads while he got down.

“This will be fine,” she said just loud enough for him to hear her, and she saw another footman emerge and look them over, and he pointed inside.

“You can go in,” he directed her. “Mrs. Allbright told us to expect you, she’s the housekeeper here. We’ll be eating supper in a few minutes.” He made no attempt to help Wilfred with the bags, and was wearing immaculate livery. He appeared very smart, and told Wilfred to leave her things outside. “She can take them up later,” he said, as Wilfred glanced at Angélique in confusion. She was being treated like a servant, not the lady she was. She smiled gently at him and nodded.

“It’s all right. Someone will help me,” she reassured him, but he was doubtful. They weren’t being pleasant or welcoming, and he wasn’t going to just abandon her there, with this surly, starched young footman treating her like a maid. “I’ll be fine.” She wanted him to leave as quickly as possible, without drawing attention to her.

“You’re sure?” He didn’t want Hobson berating him when he got back, for not doing his duty, and taking care of her properly. But she seemed anxious for him to drive away.

“Yes, I am sure. And thank you for getting me here.” He was planning to stay at a pub nearby that night. Tristan had told him which one. He seemed to know the area well.

As she watched Wilfred get back on the seat of the carriage, turn it around, and roll in the direction from which they’d come, she felt the last evidence of Belgrave being torn from her, and she could feel a sob rising in her throat, which she used every bit of strength she had to control. It began snowing as she watched him, and an instant later, she followed the footman inside to a busy servants’ hall teeming with people. The house was much smaller, but the staff appeared to be almost as big as the one she had grown up with. And their liveries all looked brand new and were fancier than the ones she was used to. They seemed almost French, and several of the footmen were wearing powdered wigs, which they never did at home, except when royalty visited. Angélique’s eyes were wide as she took it all in. And a tall angular woman with gray hair approached her. She had the face of a large bird and looked like a prison warden, with her ring of keys jangling from her waist, which indicated her position.

“I’m Mrs. Allbright, the housekeeper,” she introduced herself without a smile. “And you must be the new nanny, Angela Latham?”

“Angélique,” she corrected her softly. She was terrified of the woman, but determined not to show it.

“Sounds foreign,” she said disapprovingly.

“It’s French,” Angélique confirmed.

“Mrs. Ferguson will like that,” she said through pursed lips, but she didn’t look as if she approved. “We’re sitting down to supper now. One of the maids will show you to your room later. It’ll just be for tonight. Your room will be in the nursery with the children, but the present nanny isn’t leaving until tomorrow. You can move into her room then. I hear you have a lot of bags,” she said, frowning. “I don’t know why you’d bring them here. You’ll be wearing the dress Mrs. Ferguson has all the nannies wear. It’s quite plain. You’ll only be wearing your own clothes on your half-day off once a month, if the children aren’t sick.” There was no point trying to explain to this severe-looking woman why she had brought three bags and a small trunk. It was all she had left in the world. She had brought a few of her father’s things, some of the books they had read together, and as many small personal mementoes as she could. And the locked trunk held her jewelry and money. She’d make room for all of it as best she could, no matter how tiny the room, and she suspected it wouldn’t be large.

The servants’ dining hall was clean and spacious, and the cook looked efficient and busy with three kitchen maids to help her. Angélique counted twenty indoor staff around the table. Someone pointed to an empty chair, and she sat down, watching them quietly as supper was served. The food was plentiful and everyone dug in. They looked busy, hungry, and rushed.

“They’re having a house party this weekend. It’s been quite mad. They went shooting today. They’re having a big party tonight, with friends from the neighborhood invited. They entertain a lot, especially in London. But you won’t be going there often. They usually leave the children here when they go to town,” the maid sitting next to her explained. “I’m Sarah, by the way. I’m one of the upstairs maids. Watch out for Mrs. Allbright. She’s a terror, and she’ll sack you faster than you can wink,” she warned her in a whisper.

“Was the nanny that’s here now sacked?” Angélique asked, looking worried.

“No, she’s going back to Ireland. And happy to leave here. The children are wild.” Angélique nodded and introduced herself, and Sarah smiled and then introduced her to the others. The head butler, Mr. Gilhooley, presided over the head of the table, there was an underbutler too, next to him, and Mrs. Allbright sat at the other end of the table, observing the maids and house staff like the headmistress in a school. The atmosphere around the table was congenial although they had no time to linger over their food, and Angélique was too tense to eat. “Where was your last job?” Sarah asked her as they left the table, and Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid flirted coyly with the underbutler, until Mr. Gilhooley intervened and made a disparaging comment. He and Mrs. Allbright appeared to be thick as thieves, and kept them all on a short leash. They ran a tight ship.

Angélique wondered for a moment what she should say to Sarah in response to the question about her last job, and decided on a modified version of the truth.

“I didn’t have one. This is my first position,” Angélique said shyly, and Sarah smiled.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she admitted, and without her hair done up nicely, in the plain black dress, she looked even younger.

“That’s sweet. I’m twenty-six,” Sarah said ruefully, and then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been doing this for ten years. One of the grooms and I have been walking out together. We’re getting married when we have enough saved up. Maybe soon.” She looked hopeful as she said it, and Angélique was touched. She suddenly got a glimpse of how difficult things were for some of them. Money was short, jobs were hard, and marriage and babies were not a given, but had to be earned and saved for, sometimes for years.

“You’ll meet Nanny Ferguson tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Allbright said to her as they left the dining hall, and the footmen and both butlers prepared to go upstairs to serve the party. As was customary, the nannies and ladies’ maids were addressed by the surname of the family they worked for, not their own.

The maids were going to tend to the rooms after the guests and family dressed. A whole flock of them headed for the back stairs. “Please be down for breakfast at six,” she said to Angélique, sounding like a schoolteacher again. “Sarah will show you to the room you’ll use tonight, Nanny Latham.” Angélique knew that when she assumed her duties the next morning, she would become Nanny Ferguson too, until the day she left. She quietly followed Sarah up several flights of stairs.

“He’s all right,” Sarah filled her in about the Fergusons in a whisper. “He’s got a bit of a roving eye, but he’s not too bad. In my last job, I had to lock my door to keep his lordship out every night. Watch out for her brother, though. He’s a devil, but a handsome one, if you fancy a bit of that. But if you do, watch out for Mrs. Allbright. If she catches you, you’ll be out on your ear without a character.”

“No, no, I’d never do that,” Angélique said, looking horrified. She didn’t say that she had a brother like that too. “What’s she like?” she asked, referring to their mistress.

“Very spoiled. He gives her whatever she wants. She’s got some beautiful clothes and jewels. I don’t know why she has children, though—she never sees them. You’re meant to bring them down on Sunday for tea, but she usually finds some reason why she can’t. She says they’re always sick, and she’s afraid of influenza. What about your parents? Where are they?” Sarah asked, curious about her, and Angélique caught her breath before she answered.

“I…my father just died…my mother died when I was born…I’m an orphan now.” It pained her to say it, but it was true.

“Sorry to hear it,” Sarah said sincerely, as they reached the room she’d be using for the night until she moved to the nursery. The room was tiny and spare with only a cot and a small dresser in it. There was a basin to wash in, and rough sheets, a blanket, and a single towel on the bed. The house might be new and modern, but the servants’ quarters were not. The room was half the size of the smallest servants’ room at Belgrave. Mrs. Ferguson had no interest in the comfort of her staff.

“The nanny’s room in the nursery is a bit bigger,” Sarah reassured her, “but not much. The children share rooms, but there’s a nice nursery parlor you can sit in at night—if they go to sleep, that is. Bridget says the baby is up half the night, yowling with his teeth. She’s not sorry to leave.” Angélique nodded, wondering how she’d manage them. She knew nothing of caring for children. She had never been around any for all of her life, except for a few minutes when she visited the tenants’ farms, but the children were kept away from her, so as not to disturb her ladyship, or soil her dress. This was going to be a whole new experience and a challenge. She had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that she would be caring for four young children, who according to Sarah were sadly misbehaved.

Angélique went back down to the servants’ hall after Sarah showed her the room where she’d be staying, and brought her bags up the stairs. It took her three trips, and no one offered to help her. All she had the energy to do after that was wash in the basin in her room, after bringing in a pitcher of water, and go to bed. And she lay there for hours after that, wondering what the next day would bring. She just prayed that she’d be brave enough and strong enough to do her job, and would make a good impression on her employer. In her entire life, she had never expected to become a servant. She tried not to think about it as she drifted off to sleep. She woke with a start several times that night, afraid she’d oversleep in the morning. And she finally got up at five, washed and dressed and did her hair neatly in the freezing room, and was in the dining hall promptly at six, as the housekeeper had told her to do.

One of the kitchen maids made her a cup of tea, and before she could eat breakfast, one of the housemaids came in and told her she was expected in the nursery, and to follow her upstairs. They went up the servants’ stairs to the third floor, and emerged just outside the nursery, where Angélique could hear a baby crying. The maid pointed to a heavy wooden door, as Angélique looked down a long, carpeted hall, with doors to several other servants’ bedrooms. Mrs. Allbright’s room was on that floor, as well as Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid, the cook, and the senior housemaids. The nursery, a small sitting room, and bedrooms occupied most of the floor, and there was an elegant stairway that led down to the second floor, which the servants were not allowed to use, only the family if they chose to come upstairs.

Angélique knocked on the nursery door, and no one could hear her over the crying baby. She knocked again several times, and finally opened the door, and found herself looking at a freckled redheaded girl who was comforting the baby, while two other children were gathered around her, trying to get her attention, and a toddler was standing on a table, throwing toys. It looked like pandemonium, and for an instant Angélique was tempted to run. She was thinking that there must be some other job she could do that would be easier than this one.

“Hello, I’m Angélique!” she shouted over the din, as the baby screamed and pulled at his ears, and the pretty redhead in the simple nurse’s uniform turned toward her.

“You’re the new nanny?” she asked, looking hopeful.

“I am. What can I do to help?”

“Get Rupert off the table.” She smiled gratefully, pointing to the two-year-old, then put the baby down in his crib, and the volume of his screaming intensified as she did. She walked toward Angélique, as she lifted Rupert in his nightshirt off the table. The moment she set him down, he ran unsteadily across the nursery, away from them, looking like a drunk, as both women laughed. The other two children had grown quiet and were looking up at Angélique. Simon looked to be about four years old, and Emma was three years old, with a head full of blond ringlets. Charles, the baby, was six months old.

“Welcome to the asylum,” she said, laughing, as Angélique smiled and tried not to show how nervous she was. “Sarah came up to see me last night. She said this is your first job. You’re a brave one—they only had two children when I came here. I never thought they’d have two more.” She had a thick Irish brogue, and a friendly disposition, and she seemed undaunted by the constantly moving, busy children. “I’m the fifth nanny they’ve had. I come from a big family, so it doesn’t bother me as much as some.”

“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Angélique said sincerely, sounding more like a lady than a servant than she realized.

“Don’t be sorry I’m leaving—it got you the job,” she said, and laughed again, and looked at her more closely. “You’re a fancy one, aren’t you?” In her years as a nanny, she had seen other girls whose families had lost their fortunes and had been forced to take jobs in other people’s homes. But they were more like landed gentry, Angélique seemed like a cut above that, although she was friendly and open, and had obviously needed the job. Angélique didn’t respond to her question about how fancy she was. She hoped she didn’t look it. Only her demeanor and manner of speech suggested how well born she was. The girl would never have suspected that she was the daughter of a duke, and Angélique was determined not to tell anyone. It made no difference now, and would only make them resent her, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to blend in with the rest of the staff.

As Bridget poured her a cup of tea, the baby stopped crying, and she smiled. “Merciful God, thank you for that. The poor lad suffers with his teeth. Rupert”—she pointed to the toddler—“was that way too. So what madness brings you here, caring for four children in your first job?”

“A friend of the Fergusons recommended me. I have to work.” Angélique said nothing of her brother’s treachery or that he had gotten her the job.

“We all have to work,” Bridget said with a smile. “I’m going home to Dublin to help my sister for a few months, with twins, but after that, I’ll go back to London to find a job. The country is too quiet for me, and the family doesn’t take us to town very often.”

“I grew up in the country, I like it,” Angélique said as they sat down for a minute and sipped their tea, before Bridget made their breakfast in the nursery pantry. The rest of their meals were sent up from the kitchen on trays.

“Then you’ll be happy here,” Bridget said confidently, “if you can get the little monsters to behave. There’s Helen, the nurserymaid, but you really need another nanny to help you. Four of them is too much for one person. But Simon will be gone in a year, when he turns five, to Eton. It’s the earliest they’ll take them. She can’t wait to send him. That might help you, if you can hold out for that long, providing she doesn’t have another. You never know with her—it’s Mr. Ferguson who wants them, though he doesn’t come to see them either. And she doesn’t seem to mind—she has them so easily, she drops them like a farmhand in a field.” It was an interesting description of her new employer, who apparently preferred horses and social life to children but had them anyway. Bridget said that as long as she didn’t have to see them or care for them, and had easy pregnancies, it didn’t matter to her, and kept her husband happy and gratefully spoiling her for giving him sons. “You won’t see her often up here. We take them downstairs on Sundays for tea. She puts up with them for about ten minutes, and then she’ll send you away.” It was not the vision Angélique had of motherhood, although it was familiar to her. Her sister-in-law, Elizabeth, hadn’t been interested in her children either, until they were old enough to enter a more adult world. “I think we have a dress for you, if you look in the cupboard, although you’re very small. You can stitch it to fit you. You can have my nurses’ uniforms, but they’ll be too big for you.” She laughed—she had a generous figure, broad hips, and an ample bosom, and she was taller than Angélique. The nanny dress she offered her was gray with a long, starched white apron, which Bridget said she changed three times a day, with a starched cap trimmed with a pleated ruffle, and white cuffs to match. It was less austere than the black dresses worn by the housekeeper and ladies’ maids, and slightly plainer. “I look like a rag bag by the end of the day, after chasing them. The nurserymaid helps me do all their laundry up here.” She went on to explain their schedule to her then. They had naps morning and afternoon. She said they got up early, had dinner at noon, and a heavy teatime at five-thirty, and a bit of fruit before they went to bed. And they liked it when she read them stories. “I’m not much of a reader,” she said honestly, “but I read well enough for them. And when I can’t make something out, I just fake it. They’re too young to know the difference.” Angélique liked the thought of reading to them. She loved to read as a child, and still did, and it was something she knew she could do for them that seemed less complicated than all the rest.

“When are you leaving?” Angélique asked, still nervous.

“At dinnertime. I’ll go when the dinner trays come up.”

“They’ll miss you,” Angélique said sadly, remembering how bereft she had been when her own nanny had left. She had been like a mother to her, and after she went away, Angélique had gotten closer to Mrs. White, the housekeeper, who had always been kind to her.

“They’ll only miss me for a day or two. They’ll get used to you very quickly. They’re too young to remember me for long. You’ll be meeting Mrs. Ferguson tomorrow, for tea in the library with the children. Helen, the nurserymaid, will show you what they should wear. The Mrs. likes them looking pretty so she can show them off to her friends. And Mr. Ferguson loves Emma’s ringlets. Be sure you brush them till they shine, even if she cries while you do it. There’ll be hell to pay if you take them down with her hair all in knots.”

She got up to make the children’s breakfast then. They had a little stove to make oatmeal, and she buttered bread with marmalade and jam, and there was a jug of milk sitting on a block of ice. She set breakfast on the table, just as Helen walked in. She looked instantly suspicious of Angélique and was about her age. Like Bridget, she had worked there for two years. She had wanted to be the nanny, but had been told she’d been passed over for someone else the Fergusons had found through friends. So she considered Angélique a major threat, and she didn’t look like she was inclined to help her. She and Bridget were friends, and she was sad that she was leaving. Helen had the same reaction as Bridget at first, and thought that Angélique looked too aristocratic to be hiring out to work in a house, and wondered why she was there.

“You help her and tell her what she needs to know,” Bridget admonished her. “No funny shenanigans to make her look bad. We all started out somewhere, and she’ll need your help,” Bridget said kindly, and Helen nodded, looking Angélique over again. Angélique was still feeling shy, as the little girl walked over to her, stared at her for a minute, and then climbed onto her lap, holding a doll. Her hair was a mass of soft blond curls.

Bridget showed her how to dress the children, after they’d had breakfast, and she washed their faces and hands. An hour after Angélique had arrived in the nursery, all was in good order. They’d eaten and were dressed, the beds were made, and the baby had woken up and was no longer crying. He smiled as he held his arms out to Bridget, and she picked him up, just as the toddler threw a wooden horse at Emma’s head and missed her. She took toys out for them, and sat down with the baby in her lap to change and dress him. It seemed like an incredible amount of organizing and work, and good timing to be looking in four directions at once and keeping track of all of them. Helen did the laundry and washing up, but she didn’t take care of the children, which was entirely the nanny’s job. Angélique had no idea how Bridget did it—she was a magician with ten hands. Obviously growing up in a big family had helped.

“And watch out for Mrs. Ferguson’s brother—he’s a bad one,” she said as Angélique smiled.

“So I’ve heard. Sarah warned me.” He had quite a reputation in the house, apparently well deserved.

“He went after one of the maids last spring when he was here. He’s a charmer. They sacked her when the Mrs. found out. She’s having his baby in two months, but no one talks about it. Her parents work one of the farms, so she went home to them. He’ll be a pretty baby, but she won’t come back to work here again, and she won’t get a reference from them. Remember that if he comes near you, and lock your door at night. Mr. Ferguson won’t bother you, although they say he has some fancy pieces in town, when his wife is here. I don’t think she minds—she’s too busy spending his money to care. And she has a wandering eye herself when they have guests.” Angélique was getting a vision of people with a lot of money, a spoiled, indulged woman who had married beneath her for her husband’s fortune, both of whom were unfaithful to each other, and didn’t care about their children. They were hardly people Angélique would admire, and it didn’t surprise her that her brother and his wife were their friends. It all sounded very superficial, and like a wasted life to her. Her father had been a different kind of man, but her brother seemed to prefer this very empty life and everything that went with it. In some ways, Mrs. Ferguson seemed like a younger version of Elizabeth. Bridget said that Mr. Ferguson was thirty-four years old, and she was twenty-five. She was easy to work for, if you stayed on her good side, flattered her occasionally, and kept the children away from her. It didn’t sound like a complicated job, just an exhausting one.

They chatted all through the morning, as Bridget explained things to her. The weather was poor so they stayed in the nursery, although she said they usually went to the gardens if the weather was fine. And after Angélique read the children a story, which only the older two listened to, Helen brought their trays in for dinner. Bridget, Helen, and Angélique ate with the children. It was a hearty meal of vegetables and chicken, with ice cream and fruit for dessert. “Mrs. Ferguson always says to feed Emma less than the boys. She doesn’t want her to get fat, but I let her have pudding anyway. Poor little thing. We don’t want to starve her, no matter what her mother says. She has a lovely figure, even after four children, but of course she’s corseted to within an inch of her life. Her lady’s maid said she faints sometimes when they lace her up. Her waist is about the size of my arm.” Looking at Bridget, Angélique found that easy to believe, but she liked this friendly open girl, and hoped she’d do as well in the job, and manage it with equal ease. It was hard to imagine she would. And she felt a wave of panic wash over her as Bridget gathered up her things and got ready to leave. There was a tear in her eye when she said goodbye to the children and hugged each one of them, and then she looked at Angélique.

“Good luck to you, then. I hope it works out for you here. They’re foolish at times, but they’re not bad people, and it’s a good job. If they spent more time in London with the children, I’d come back to them, but not here.” It was what she had said before.

“Will you say goodbye to Mrs. Ferguson now?” Angélique asked, curious about her, more than ever after everything Bridget had said that morning.

“No, she said goodbye to me last week. She’s not a sentimental woman. She’s more interested in herself. She knows she can always find another nanny. We’re easily replaced, you see, so remember that, and don’t play fast and loose with the job, or she’ll sack you and get someone else, just like she found you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Angélique said seriously, suddenly realizing that she was lucky to have this job if she had to work. Tristan could have sent her someplace worse, and wouldn’t have cared, just so he got her out of the house.

Bridget hugged her and was gone a minute later, and Angélique put the children to bed for their naps, while Helen picked up the trays and sent them downstairs in the dumbwaiter. The baby was hardest to get down, but eventually he lay in his crib, holding the bottle his new nanny had given him, and within minutes he fell asleep.

She looked through the cupboard of nurses’ uniforms the nannies wore, found the two smallest ones, and then asked Helen to listen for the children while she went downstairs to the laundry, and tried to alter the dresses to fit her. She hurried down the back stairs with the two dresses, and found Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid chatting with the laundry maids while they washed their employer’s clothes. They all looked at Angélique in surprise.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said hesitantly, “I need to alter my dresses, if I can have some gray thread and a needle.” Mildred, who was in charge of the laundry room, looked at her with a bright smile and took the dresses from her with ease.

“I’ll do it for you. You’re the new nanny, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Angélique.”

Mildred shook her head with a scolding look, as she got out the needle and thread and a thimble, after Angélique explained where it was too large, and glanced up at Angélique. “The Mrs. won’t want you being called by your first name around here. It’s Nanny Ferguson now,” she reminded her, as Angélique looked chastened, and Mildred smiled. “Happy to meet you, though,” Mildred said, and stood up and held the gray dresses up to her slim figure to check them, and then put some pins in them to mark them, and promised to have the dresses for her in the morning. “How are you finding the nursery so far?” she asked with interest.

Angélique hesitated and then smiled cautiously. “A little scary,” she admitted, “Bridget just left an hour ago. This is my first nanny job. I’ve never had to manage four children.” She was breathless as she said it, and the other women laughed.

“I’m not sure I could either,” Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid said under her breath. Angélique heard one of the others call her Stella. “Not with that lot of little monsters,” she chuckled. “They wear their mother out in five minutes. I’m glad I never had children.” She was meticulously pressing a gown for that evening, and smiled at the new nanny. “Have you met Mrs. Ferguson yet?”

“No, I haven’t. I just arrived last night.”

“From London?” one of the other laundry maids asked her.

“Hertfordshire. The house and grounds look very pretty here.”

“The London house is nicer,” Stella said proudly. “I prefer it there, but it’s better for the children to be in the country. She likes them to stay here. It’s healthier for them than in the city.” Angélique nodded, and thought she’d better get back to the nursery then. She said goodbye to the ladies, and went back upstairs. She was sorry she couldn’t have her meals with them, and had to stay in the nursery with the children. It would have been nice to get to know the others, but she would be isolated most of the time with her charges, and Helen the nurserymaid. At least she had her to talk to.

Angélique went through the bookcase when she got upstairs and found some books she wanted to read to the children that she had loved herself as a child. After that, she went downstairs to get her things, and struggled up the stairs with her cases and small trunk. There was barely enough room for all of it in her bedroom in the nursery, but she piled them on top of each other, and slid the small trunk under her bed. It was still locked, and she left it that way, with her mother’s jewelry and her father’s money in it. Her entire future was concealed under her bed.

“What did you bring all those clothes for?” Helen asked her. “You’ll never wear them.” And Angélique had noticed there was no mirror in her bedroom. Helen said that Mrs. Ferguson felt that nannies didn’t need them, nor kitchen staff.

“I might wear a nice dress one day,” Angélique said wistfully, as Sarah peeked into the nursery for a quick visit on her break.

“You look like a proper nanny,” Sarah commented, smiling at her, and Angélique was happy to see her. She felt as though she had at least one friend there. They chatted for a few minutes, and then Sarah left, and the children woke up, and they kept Angélique busy, while she read to them. She taught Simon and Emma to play a game she found in a cupboard, and then she bathed them in a tub she filled with water she had to carry herself, with Helen’s help. And by the time she had finished the bath, Helen brought the tea trays in. The day had flown by, and when she put them to bed at seven, after reading them another story, she was ready for bed herself. And tomorrow was going to be a big day. She was going to take the children down to the library to see their parents, and meet the Fergusons. She was curious about them, and as she slipped between the sheets after reading by candlelight for a while in the nursery parlor, she wondered what the future held for her. The Duke of Westerfield’s daughter had become Nanny Ferguson, and it was hard to guess what fate had in store for her next.