Читать книгу: «The Nanny», страница 2
Chapter Three
“You’re going to live there? Really? Oh, how exciting!”
“Yes…exciting.” Annie managed to put some enthusiasm into her words for the benefit of her younger sister. At age thirteen, Camille still viewed life as an adventure, of sorts, even after all their family had been through these past few years.
Camille perched on the edge of the feather mattress in the small bedroom all three sisters shared in their cousin’s house.
“Tell me what it’s like,” she said. “The Ingalls house, I mean. Is it as beautiful as everyone says? I’ll bet there’s a library.”
Scooping clothes from the bureau and placing them in her trunk, Annie smiled. “Oh, Camille, you should see.”
She sprang from the bed. “Could I? Do you think? Could I come over sometime?”
Annie considered it for a moment. As an employee in the Ingalls house, she would be allowed to have a guest occasionally, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t sure. She’d never worked at this sort of job before, never known anyone who had.
“I don’t see why not,” Annie finally told her.
“What did Mama say about your job?” Camille asked. “Did you tell her?”
“I tried,” Annie said, glancing away.
Camille eased onto the bed again. “She’s having another of her bad days.”
Bad days for Sophia Martin came more and more frequently as time went on. Annie’s mother had never been a strong woman, but she’d held up well enough until their father died. Shortly thereafter, the money he’d left them had run out, forcing them from the home she’d loved so much, leaving them to move from relative to relative, to anyone who would take them in, and Sophia had bounced from good to ill health regularly.
Angus Martin, a widower, their father’s cousin, had taken them into his home just weeks ago, after corresponding with Sophia. He’d been agreeable enough with the arrangement—free room and board for the four of them in exchange for cooking, cleaning and running his house while he tended his farm.
All of that had changed the minute they arrived and he got a look at Willa, Sophia’s middle daughter. Now he barely spoke to any of them, and Sophia had taken to her bed more and more often.
“You’re only taking one dress?” Camille asked.
Annie eyed the blue gingham gown she’d pulled from the wardrobe cupboard. She only owned three, and this was her favorite, though she seldom wore any of them.
“For church on Sunday,” Annie said.
“Won’t you wear a dress all the time in your new job?” Camille asked.
Annie glanced down at the clean trousers and shirt she’d just changed into. Josh Ingalls had hired her in these clothes, so surely it was all right if she wore them.
“Here, take all of them, just in case.” Camille pulled the other two from the wardrobe cupboard, then glanced at those left behind. “You could try to alter Willa’s dresses and take them, too. She won’t be needing them for a while still.”
Annie shook her head. Willa’s dresses didn’t have enough hem to accommodate Annie’s height, but that wasn’t the reason she wouldn’t take her sister’s clothes.
“It will just make her cry,” Annie said.
“Again,” Camille said, not unkindly. “Everything makes her cry.”
Annie couldn’t blame her sister for crying all the time. She was pregnant, after all. Pregnant, sixteen years old and not married.
Willa would have been married, probably, if Evan Keller’s parents hadn’t turned up their noses at the idea of their son being interested in someone with such limited financial resources. They had bigger and better things planned for their boy, and had whisked him away on an extended trip in the East.
Two months later, when Willa realized she was pregnant, there had still been no word from Evan. Shocked and humiliated, Sophia had arranged for them to move here with their cousin Angus, far away from the scandal. They hadn’t escaped it, though. The talk had started soon after their arrival. Whispers, at first, then rumors. Angus’s attitude hadn’t helped anything.
“I’ll miss you, Annie,” Camille said.
Annie threw her arms around her little sister. She hated leaving her behind, leaving her alone to manage the house, their mother, their sister and their cousin. But, even at so young an age, Camille was a strong girl, with the ability to let most of life’s problems roll off her. She found escape in endless hours of reading.
“I have a surprise for you,” Annie said, stepping back. “I wasn’t going to tell you for a while yet, until I was positive I could manage. But now that I have this new job and I’m making more money, well, I don’t see a reason to wait.”
Annie dropped to her knees beside the chest in the corner. It contained the few family treasures they hadn’t sold off or bartered away. She dug to the bottom and pulled out a pamphlet.
“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.
His nostrils flared. “I don’t need a nanny who will not see to it that—”
“You’re right, you don’t need me! I suggest you send for Reverend Simon, because you don’t need a nanny for those children, Mr. Ingalls. You need a miracle!”
Josh’s mouth hung open for a few seconds, then snapped shut. Heat arced from him, coiling deeply inside Annie. He leaned forward. She did the same. Her breathing stopped. Her breasts ached to brush his wide chest. The expression in his eyes deepened, and a peculiar longing covered Annie like a hot, woolen blanket.
She froze. Good gracious, was he going to kiss her?
Good gracious, did she want him to?
Caught in the web they’d somehow spun, they stood like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, heat bouncing back and forth between them.
Josh came to his senses first. He turned away suddenly. Annie gulped and backed up a few steps, trying to will her heart to stop its hammering.
“Perhaps…” Josh said, his back to her. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Perhaps I didn’t explain things clearly, Miss Martin. About the children. About how I want things done.”
He walked to the bookcase, searched up and down, then pulled a volume from the shelf. “This should clarify things.”
Annie took the book, grateful for something to focus on besides him and the beating of her heart. She read the cover aloud. “How to Raise a Productive Child by Dr. Solomon Matthews. A book on child rearing?”
“My…wife…sent for it.” Josh glanced out the window, as if that somehow gave him strength. He pulled in a big breath, pushing ahead. “The finest minds in the world have laid down exact instructions on how children should be raised. All their wisdom has been carefully committed to this volume.”
Annie opened the book and flipped through the pages, scanning several.
She frowned up at him. “You want your children to march about the house? While I keep time by clapping my hands?” It took all her willpower not to add, “Have you lost your mind?”
“What I want, Miss Martin, is order,” he told her. “I want discipline. I want calm and quiet in my home.”
“But—”
“That’s what I want. That’s what I’ll have,” Josh said. “Or I’ll find myself another nanny.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, just gave her a curt nod and left the room.
Annie watched his big back disappear out the door, heat and energy swirling in his wake.
Order and discipline? The children weren’t the only ones in the Ingalls household who needed it.
