The Nanny

“Well, good night,” Annie murmured.

“Hannah,” Ginny said, pointing to an open doorway at the rear of the room.

“Hannah?” Annie asked.

Ginny huffed irritably. “The baby.”

“Oh. The baby. Yes, of course.” Annie blew out the lanterns and backed away.

The adjoining room was small, just big enough for a crib, bureau, washstand and rocker. There Annie found a young woman probably ten years older than herself, rocking a sleeping baby.

“I reckon you’re the new one, huh?” she asked, her Southern accent evident, though she spoke barely above a whisper. Her dark hair was pinned up and she wore the same gray dress and white apron as the cooks.

“Yes, I’m the new nanny,” Annie said.

The woman hoisted herself out of the chair, cradling the baby against her shoulder. “My name’s Georgia.”

Annie introduced herself. “Are you the one who looks after Hannah?”

“Doing the best I can since the last nanny left,” Georgia said. “That Mrs. Flanders—you met Mrs. Flanders yet?”

“Yes. Briefly.”

Georgia rolled her eyes, and Annie got the distinct feeling the two of them shared the same opinion of the woman who ran the Ingalls house.

“Well, that Mrs. Flanders, she don’t let me tend to little Hannah here, ’less it’s her feeding time. ’Cause, you see, I’m one of the maids and I’m not supposed to do nothing but my own chores.” Georgia tossed her head. “According to Mrs. Flanders, that is.”

“That’s why I heard the baby crying so much?” Annie asked. “Mrs. Flanders wouldn’t let you come in here and take care of her?”

“Yep. Like to broke my heart hearing her cry, I can tell you that. I’ve gotten right attached to this little thing.” Georgia laid the baby in the crib, then lingered for a moment, caressing her wisps of dark hair. “But, seeing as how I need this job, I didn’t have much of a choice other than to do like Mrs. Flanders said for me to do, even if it don’t set well with me.”

Annie nodded. “I can certainly understand that.”

Georgia reared back a bit, raising her brows and looking Annie up and down. “So you’re truly here just to take care of the children?”

“Of course. Why else?”

Georgia shrugged. “Well, it ain’t exactly some kind of a secret, but most of those other women who came here weren’t interested in doing nothing more than sniffing around after Mr. Ingalls.”

“They hoped to marry him?” Annie asked.

“Not that the man couldn’t use the benefit of a little female comfort, if you get my meaning. Especially after that wife of his. Lordy…” Georgia shook her head. “Well, Annie, it’s a pleasure to meet you and a pleasure to have you working here.”

“Thank you,” Annie said, glad to finally hear a kind word from someone in the Ingalls home.

“All I can say to you is good luck. You’re a-gonna be needing it.” Georgia stepped away from the crib. “I’d better get a-going. You’ve a room all to yourself, you know, right through that door. I tidied it up for you and unpacked your things. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Georgia.”

She gave Hannah a little pat on the back, then leaned closer to Annie. “You let me know if you’re needing any help with the baby here. Like I said, I’ve gotten right attached to her.”

After Georgia left the room, Annie watched the baby, thankful she was sleeping. She considered checking on the three older children, then changed her mind. They were quiet, and that was good enough. Tonight, at least.

She opened the adjoining door and found her bedroom. Annie fell back against the closed door, staring wide-eyed.

Soft light came from the lanterns beside the canopy bed and on the spacious bureau. There were two chests, a wardrobe, a writing desk and a washstand, all in rich mahogany. The coverlet was pale blue with tiny yellow-and-white flowers. Curtains were pristine white, and a floral rug of rich hues covered the floor.

Heavens, such a lovely bedroom. She’d never even had one of her own before—she’d always shared with her sisters. If she, the nanny, had so fine a room, what must the others be like?

A strange heat swelled inside Annie. Josh’s bedroom. What did it look like?

She gasped in the quiet room. Why had she even thought such a thing?

Quickly, she opened the wardrobe and found her three dresses hanging to one side, her one pair of good shoes resting at the bottom. Her apparel looked meager in the vast cupboard. The rest of her clothing took up only two drawers in the massive bureau.

Though her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual, Annie was tired. She’d have her hands full tomorrow with the children and—

The book. Annie gasped aloud in the silent room. She’d left the book Josh had given her in the study.

What if Josh found it there in the morning? He’d likely think she’d completely disregarded his instructions, blatantly defied him.

Would he fire her? He wasn’t all that happy with her already.

She had to retrieve that book.

Annie crept to the door and peeked into the hallway. No one was there; no cracks of light shone from under the other doors. Which room was Josh’s? she wondered.

And what was he doing in there? Annie’s thoughts meandered for a few seconds. Was he undressing? In bed already?

A little mewl slipped from Annie’s lips. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Goodness, such thoughts. She certainly had more pressing things to think about—such as keeping her job.

Annie listened, her ears straining. No sounds. It seemed everyone had retired for the night.

She hurried to the stairway and leaned over the railing. Faint light shone from below. Annie glanced around, then slipped down the steps.

At the landing, she paused, listened and hurried on.

Only the ticking of a clock sounded as she hurried through the house. Holding her breath, she peeked into the study. A lantern burned low on the desk. A book and some papers were spread out.

Josh was still up. He hadn’t retired for the evening as she’d thought.

He wasn’t at his desk at the moment, but surely he’d be back any second. Annie darted into the study. Where was the book? Where had she left it?

She spied it on a table near the fireplace, grabbed it and dashed to the door, reaching it just as Josh walked in.

He jerked to a stop not two steps away from her, splashing milk from the glass he carried. It spattered his shirt and chin.

He froze, letting the milk drip from his face, and drew in a big breath.