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The Nanny
The Nanny
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The Nanny

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“The Hayden Academy for Young Women,” Annie announced. “You’ll attend in the fall.”

Camille just stared at the pamphlet for a moment, then finally took it, holding it by the edges. “A school? In Richmond?”

Grinning, Annie nodded.

She frowned. “Oh, Annie, it’s not one of those schools where all you learn is how to pour tea and curtsy properly, is it?”

“No, silly. It’s a real school where they teach mathematics and literature. All the things you’re interested in.”

Camille shook her head. “But how? We can’t afford this.”

“I’ve corresponded with the head mistress and explained our situation. She agreed to let me pay your tuition a little at a time,” Annie said. “But since I’m the Ingallses’ nanny now, I can pay for it easily.”

“Really?” Camille looked longingly at the pamphlet, then at her sister. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh!” Camille threw her arms around Annie and hugged her hard, then gasped. “I have so much to do to get ready. I’ll find the schoolteacher here and see if I can borrow some books. Maybe she can tutor me.”

Seeing the excitement on Camille’s face pleased Annie no end. Her sister had always been a studious girl, and deserved to go to a good school. But Annie had been motivated to send her by something more.

There was no need for Camille, too, to endure the scandal of Willa’s pregnancy. That’s why Annie had picked a school in Virginia, far away from Wisconsin. True, there were many good schools closer, but with the great distance, the gossip wouldn’t likely follow her.

A little shudder passed through Annie, and she said a quick prayer that Josh wouldn’t hear of the scandal himself. Surely, it would jeopardize her job as nanny to his children. And if he fired her, how would she pay Camille’s future tuition and school expenses?

“I’d better go,” Annie said, aware suddenly of how long she’d taken to pack. A driver and wagon belonging to Josh waited out front for her.

“I’ll come by to see you in a few days,” Camille said, helping to carry her things through the house, “if that’s all right.”

“Let me know if there’re any problems here,” Annie said, though she couldn’t imagine there wouldn’t be, what with Willa, their mother and cousin the way they were. “Any problems you can’t handle, that is.”

As the driver loaded her things in the wagon, Annie went to her mother’s room, hoping to tell her goodbye. But, as usual, she was sleeping; Annie didn’t wake her.

Since Willa spent most of her time walking through the fields, and Angus was working, there was no one but Camille to share a farewell as Annie climbed up on the wagon. They pulled away and she turned on the seat, looking back. Camille, her smile radiant, waved from the porch.

Gradually, the house faded in the distance. Beside Annie sat a strange man. Ahead of her, a new life and—

Josh Ingalls.

She crossed her arms over her middle, the early evening air suddenly feeling cool. Of all the aspects of her new life that awaited her, why had Josh floated into her mind?

And why did those thoughts make her stomach feel so funny?

She shook them away. There was only one reason for her to be at the Ingalls house and that was to take care of the children. They should be on her mind right now, she admonished herself.

Of course, for her to keep her job, Josh would have to be happy with the way she cared for his children. She’d have to please him as well as them.

Annie shook away the thought. Managing four youngsters was no great feat. Goodness, they were only children.

Supper should be served by the time she arrived at the Ingalls house. As the wagon bumped along, Annie imagined sitting in the grand dining room she’d glimpsed today, having supper with Josh and the children.

A family. Dining together, talking, catching up on each other’s news, hearing about the day.

Annie’s own family had been that way, a long time ago before her father died. Back then, meals together had been warm and comforting.

A little smile pulled at Annie’s lips and she found herself looking forward to arriving at the Ingalls home. Her sisters and mother hadn’t acted like a real family in a very long time. She liked the idea of being part of one again, even if she was simply the hired help.

What the devil was taking her so long?

Josh peered out the window of his study as evening shadows stretched across the road leading to his farm. There was no sign of the wagon.

No sign of her.

Annoyed, Josh turned away, eyeing the ledgers on his desk. He had book work to do and that’s what he should be thinking about.

Not her.

He pushed his fingers through his hair. Why was this woman, this Miss Annie Martin, suddenly consuming his thoughts?

Because she was taking the responsibility of those children, Josh decided. Yes, that was it.

As nanny, she was relieving him of a great burden, freeing him to devote himself to things that were important. Leaving him to concentrate on…

How pretty she was. How her blue eyes sparkled. How even in those trousers she wore, her curves were apparent. How she—

“Good God…” Josh turned away, stunned by his own thoughts and his body’s reaction to them. Fire flickered in him, unleashing a yearning he hadn’t experienced since—

His wife died? Or was it even before that?

The baby was eight months old now. Lydia, eight months dead.

In all the time since that dreadful night, Josh had had few thoughts of women. He’d thrown himself into his work on the farm, pushing himself harder and harder, guaranteeing that at day’s end he fell exhausted into bed and a dreamless sleep.

His life suited him. He didn’t want it changed. And he certainly didn’t want Annie Martin to be the one who changed it.

She’d insisted she was interested solely in the position of nanny, unlike so many of the women he’d employed in the past eight months. Women who had spent more time pursuing him than caring for the children.

Good. That’s what he wanted.

Josh sank into his desk chair once more. When he’d first seen Annie in the meadow today, she’d caught his eye. Then he’d realized she was disciplining the children. She’d offered herself for the position of nanny before he’d had a chance to ask. That’s exactly what he’d intended to do when he’d told her to come up to the house.

Josh raked his fingers through his hair, forcing his attention to the ledger open in front of him.

A nanny was what he had. A nanny was all he wanted.

Chapter Four

Mrs. Flanders scowled from the back door when the wagon bearing Annie and her belongings arrived. She directed the driver to take Annie’s things upstairs, to wipe his feet, to step carefully, to not dare knock anything over. By the time she turned her attention to Annie, her scowl had somehow deepened.

Mrs. Flanders’s lips turned down as she looked Annie over. “Don’t you know how to dress? Do you think you’re still working in the fields, girl?”

Annie’s cheeks flushed and she ran her hands down the rough fabric of her shirt. “Well, no, but—”

“Get on in there and see to those children and their supper.” Mrs. Flanders turned on her toes with a huff, leaving Annie standing in the doorway.

She glanced around. No one else was about—no one to tell her anything further, or give any more direction. Certainly no one to welcome her to the Ingalls home. So she struck out on her own.

Annie ventured into the house toward the dining room she’d seen earlier today. Still she saw no one. The only sound was a clock ticking somewhere.

Four children having supper and it was this quiet? Annie smiled to herself. It seemed the Ingalls brood minded their manners while inside; only outdoors did they behave like wild animals.

But when she entered the dining room, Annie saw but one person seated there. Josh.

He sat at the head of the table, eating from blue china, reading a newspaper. The rest of the table, which seated twelve, was empty. A crystal chandelier hung overhead; a sideboard sat against one wall, along with glass cupboards full of delicate china sparkling in the light. There was a fireplace with a beveled mirror above it, and a silver tea service on a cart in the corner.

Josh ate in silence, so absorbed in his reading he didn’t notice her standing there.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ingalls?” Annie said.

He jumped. When he saw her, his chest swelled, and she could have sworn his cheeks deepened in color, causing an odd knot to twist in the pit of her stomach.

“Where are the children, Mr. Ingalls?” she asked, surprised that her voice sounded so soft.

He looked at her as if she’d spoken some foreign language. “Children?”

“Yes, sir. The children. Your children.” She gestured with her hands, encompassing the room. “Have they finished their supper already?”

He gazed at her a while longer, trying, it seemed, to make some sense of her question. Or was it something else? The way he looked at her made her stomach flutter.

Finally, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “They don’t eat in here.”

“Oh.” When he said nothing further, Annie asked, “Where do they eat?”

He looked lost again, as if he’d forgotten the question as quickly as she’d asked it. “They, ah, they eat in the cookhouse.”

“The cookhouse?”

He shifted in his chair, forcing a frown. “I’m not certain how satisfactory a nanny you’ll be, Miss Martin, if you can’t even find the children.”

A wisp of anger twirled through Annie, and she was certain it showed in her face. She forced it away. “Very well.”

The cookhouse was attached to the main house by a short, enclosed passageway, which Annie located by following her nose. Delicious smells drew her to the rear of the house and down three steps to the stone walk.

Inside the cookhouse a massive open hearth covered the far wall. A cookstove sat near it along with two worktables, rows of cupboards, and hanging pots and pans. A white-haired woman in an apron—most likely the cook—and two young girls—her assistants, probably—busied themselves chopping vegetables at one of the worktables. They glanced up only briefly when Annie walked in, then went back to their chores.

Near the entrance, the three older Ingalls children sat by themselves at a round table in the corner. Only Cassie ate. As if she were starving, she held her plate to her mouth, raking in the food. Drew sat with his feet tucked under him on his chair, waving his fork around as if it were a bird. Ginny’s elbow was firmly planted on the table, her cheek resting on her palm, and she was dragging her spoon listlessly through her potatoes and peas. Annie had no idea where the baby was or who was minding it.

She drew in a breath. Well, this certainly wasn’t the picture of family closeness she’d expected.

“Hello, children,” she said.

They all looked at her, then at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Drew asked.

“Didn’t your father tell you?” Annie asked, annoyed that Josh hadn’t informed the children she’d been hired. “I’m your new nanny.”

Drew sprang to his knees in the chair. “We don’t need no nanny.”

“We can take care of ourselves just fine,” Ginny informed her.

“Yeah,” Drew said. “Go away!”

“Yeah!” Ginny echoed.

“We don’t want you here!” Drew said.

“Now, just a minute,” Annie said calmly. “I’m sure that if you’ll—”

Drew turned his plate over in the center of the table. Cassie screamed.

“Stop that!” Annie reached across the table to grab Drew as he snatched Cassie’s plate away. She screamed again. He dumped the food on the table.

“I said stop that!” Annie insisted.

Ginny poured her cup of milk in the mess and started screaming, too. Cassie stood straight up in her chair, stomping her feet, wailing at the top of her lungs.

“I said, don’t—” A gob of food hit Annie’s cheek. “Stop it! All of you! This instant!”

Drew dived for Cassie’s milk. Annie swooped across the table and grabbed it first.

“No!” she shouted, and jerked it out of his grasp.

“What the devil is going on in here?” Josh’s voice boomed.

Annie whirled, flinging milk up his shirt and across his face.

Everyone froze. Dead silence fell. Annie gasped and covered her mouth. The children stilled like little stone statues.

Josh just stood there for a moment, milk dripping from his chin, soaking into his shirt, trickling down his trousers. Then calmly—too calmly—he turned to Annie.

“May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Martin?”

Not waiting for an answer, he stomped up the stairs, wiping his face with his shirtsleeve. Annie gulped, wiped the food from her cheek with a napkin and hurried after him, following him through the house and into his study.

“What the hell was that all about?” Josh demanded, flinging his arm in the direction of the cookhouse. “Is that your idea of taking care of those children? I hired you to make sure things like that don’t happen. What the devil were you thinking?”

“Stop shouting at me!” Annie clenched her fists at her sides.