The Nanny's Secret

“’Bye, Jordan.” Lacey gave him her usual hug. “I’ll be in touch when I get back. Probably Friday.”

As the front door clicked shut behind her, Jordan said, “I’ll put you in the room next to Mandy’s so you’ll be able to hear her at night.”

They walked up the stairs and as they did, he saw her looking around.

“I can’t think why,” she said, slowly, “But I feel as if I’ve been here before. It all looks so familiar to me—those Mandori oil paintings, the cream marble floor in the hall, this lapis-blue carpet on the stairs and…this.” She ran a hand lightly over the Benducci grandfather clock in the curve of the stairwell. “Where have I seen this before? I know it’s one of a kind, made for some Italian count…”

“Do you read architectural magazines?”

“My friend Joanne sometimes passes her copy on to me.”

He ushered her on, up to the landing. “Then that is where you may have seen the interior of Deerhaven. There was a spread in—”

He paused as they reached the door to Mandy’s room. They’d spoken quietly, but they must have disturbed her because she’d started to fret. She sounded as if she might be waking up, though her mumbles and whimpers were drowsy.

Felicity had paused beside him. He heard her breathing quicken. “May I see her?” she asked.

“Best not go in. She’ll drop off again.”

But she wasn’t about to drop off again. He heard the creak of her mattress, and pictured her scrambling to her feet. He almost groaned aloud. Another sleepless night lay ahead, not that there was much of the night left.

Now she was crying, the cries becoming louder, more demanding, by the moment. This time, he did groan aloud. He loved his daughter more than anything on this earth, but so help him, if she didn’t let him get some sleep, he was liable to go take a very long walk off a very short pier—

Felicity touched his forearm lightly. “Why don’t you show me where I’m to sleep, and then get yourself off to bed. I’ll take care of Mandy.”

“No, I’ll need to show you the lie of the land. Downstairs, too, because I’ll be out of here before you’re up in the morning. I need to give you a tour—”

“I’ll find my own way around.” She swung the cat cage forward. “Is my room along this way?”

She was bossing him. Taking charge.

Well, okay, but just for tonight. And just because he was bushed. Tomorrow, he’d show her who was head honcho around here.

Fighting a huge yawn, he opened the door next to Mandy’s.

“There you are,” he said. “It’s all yours. En suite included.” Mandy’s crying had taken on a shrill singsong note, which he knew from experience she could keep up for hours.

“Good night, Jordan.” Felicity walked past him and set down the cat’s cage.

He knew he should say ‘Thanks’ but the word stuck in his throat. He turned to go…and then turned back.

“What about the cat?” he asked curtly.

“RJ? Oh, he’ll be fine now till morning. Then I’ll take him for a walk outside—on a leash—to get him acclimatized to his new surroundings.” She dropped her holdall on the carpet. “In a few days, once I’m sure he’s not going to run away, I’ll give him free rein.”

Even as she was speaking, she’d tossed her shoulderbag on a chair and thrown her anorak onto the bed.

Flicking back her braid, she looked at him with a challenging sparkle in her eyes. “I’m ready,” she said. “You can hit the hay now, and I’ll see you…” She gave a light shrug, her gaze amused. “Whenever.”

She walked past him again and headed for Mandy’s room. After a brief hesitation, he turned on his heel and proceeded along the corridor in the other direction, to his own room, which was on the far side of hers.

Halfway there, he turned to glance back…

She had already disappeared from view.

Felicity tiptoed into the child’s bedroom.

Rose-pink light glowed from a night-bulb plugged into an outlet by the curtained window. In its gentle gleam she could see a single bed to her right. It was neatly made but unoccupied.

She flicked her glance around and was taken aback to see Mandy in her crib—the large white-painted designer crib Marla Maxwell had delivered to Felicity’s apartment when Mandy was six months old. It had remained at Felicity’s apartment until Jordan Maxwell had sent a van for it the day after his lawyer had notified Felicity her services would no longer be required. That was three months ago, right after the car accident that had changed all their lives.

Felicity had known that although Mandy had loved napping in her crib when she was at the apartment, she had long since graduated to sleeping in a bed when she was at home. So why on earth was the three-year-old not in that bed now? Certainly the crib was big enough for her because she was dainty as an elf, but surely using it was a backward step? She’d have to ask Jordan about it tomorrow.

Tonight, her aim was to comfort his daughter.

Mandy was standing up, hanging on to the crib rail, her head thrown back, tears spilling from her eyes. She was crying in a keening way that tore at Felicity’s heart.

Tears pricking her own eyes, she whispered, “Oh, my poor darling!” as she hurried across the carpeted floor.

She ached to scoop Mandy up in her arms, but she didn’t want to frighten her. Instead, she gently set her own hands atop the child’s small-boned fingers, which were wrapped tightly around the top rail, and in a soft and soothing voice, she started singing Mandy’s favorite lullaby.

The crying stopped.

Mandy froze. And for a long moment, the only sound was a sudden loud hiccup that echoed around the room.

Then slowly, very slowly, she lifted her head up from its lolled-back position, and stared, wary-eyed and open-mouthed, at Felicity.

Felicity smiled. And blinked back a tear.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

Another hiccup. Then a shaky, teary voice that was filled with wonderment and disbelief. “Fizzy?”

Felicity’s smile was watery. “Oh, yes, my darling, darling child. It’s Fizzy. Come to look after you.”

Now she leaned in and tenderly lifted the three-year-old in her arms, and cuddled her against her bosom. Mandy seemed lighter, even more fragile than she’d been last time she’d held her. Poor baby, she’d been through so much.

Feeling a surge of joy as the child’s slender arms wound their way around her neck, Felicity sought the nearest chair—a comfortable armchair by the hearth—and sank down.

“Fizzy?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Felicity smoothed a hand over the tear-damp hair, and kissed the tear-damp forehead. “What is it, my little love?”

“I missed you.” Mandy started to weep again, but this time in low-strained sobs even more heartbreaking than her loudest most desperate wails had been. “I missed you every day.”

“And I missed you, too, precious. You’ll never know just how much. But we’ll always be together, from this moment on. You can count on it.”

She felt the grip around her neck tighten as the child gulped out an anguished “Promise, Fizzy?”