The Royal Nanny by Karen Harper Page B

Reaver.”
    I guess using her name or my kindness took her aback. Her mouth dropped open. I turned to go, but wondered if I should send her the feather picture, or if Chad would be angry at that. I was upset she had ruined the glasshouse as my refuge. As I hurried away, one thing hurt even more than losing Chad. I pressed one hand over my mouth and one over my flat belly, for I had long ago learned to read the signs: Despite the dustcoat she wore over her dark green cotton dress, I saw Mrs. Chad Reaver was several months breeding.
    T ANGLING WITH BOTH the highest woman in the nation to the lowest flower girl, I’d had a difficult day. So I was happy when Finch let David and Bertie run down the hall to the day nursery to join Mary to recite the creed their father had wanted them to have memorized before he came back from his tour of the empire. Especially today, after coming face to face with Chad’s wife, I tookit to heart as first David, then Bertie—he stuttered yet a bit—recited it for me:
    â€œI shall pass through this world only once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do or any kindness that I can show any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”
    â€œVery good, both of you,” I told them with a little clapping.
    David said, “Bertie says his b ’s too many times like ‘human b-b-being.’”
    â€œWell, then,” I told them, “it’s good that the creed has very few b ’s at the beginnings of words. I think Bertie’s doing much better with that.”
    Bertie beamed but David rolled his eyes. Despite their naughty natures, how I missed tucking them up in bed at night, being with them more. But Finch was good for them, Helene was necessary, and they would soon enough have a tutor for all else but the foreign languages.
    â€œLala,” Bertie said, “how about a b-bedtime nursery rhyme song?”
    I pulled both of them closer. Harry was on my lap and the ever-independent Mary hovered. “Well, now that you are both getting older, shall we say the Lord’s Prayer together like we used to?”
    David said, “Is the part ‘Thy kingdom come’ because Father will be king after Grandpapa and then I’m next? You know, this kingdom and the empire is to come for us? Lala,” he added, lowering his voice, “the thing is, I don’t want to be king and have a kingdom. Too much work, even if there are nice parties. I would rather have a bicycle.”
    I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, especially when Bertie chimed in, “Don’t tell Father, but I’m glad I shall never b-b-be king.”
    â€œListen to Lala now, both of you. Sometimes we cannot choose what we will be, and life can take a sharp turn or go too fast—like a bicycle going lickety-split on the hill to the station, David. I’m sure you will both be given bicycles soon. But just as you have to obey rules to ride a bike and make the turns that are already laid out on the road . . .” My voice caught. My own life and losses rushed at me. “Well, that’s enough for tonight. Now let’s say the prayer and then off to bed before Finch comes looking for you.”
    I was glad the three oldest closed their eyes for the prayer. I dreaded how I’d explain if they saw my tears.

Chapter 11
    T he first of November 1901 marked the first time I’d ever been to sea—I mean really out on the water where I couldn’t spot land. Once each year Papa had taken us up and down the Thames on the steam launch he captained, but now we were in the English Channel just off the Isle of Wight. Mind you, this wasn’t the real ocean but it seemed like it. Chad had said once he’d like to see the real ocean, far from the North Sea with its winds whipping into the Wash just beyond the estate’s fields and fens.
    I sighed. Chad would like to see the ocean, and I