Page 6 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

Concerning Quizzing Glasses, Sooty Smudges, a Police Box, and an Umbrella; And an Intriguing Offer from a Highly Ranked Individual…

“There’s a leygram for you,” said Mina as Emmeline entered their dormitory room. “It appeared on the rug by the door while you were out. I put it on your pillow.”

“Oh?” Emmeline deposited her wet umbrella in the stand and tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet.

She’d been out all morning running errands, if “running errands” meant trying to earn a little money by attending auctions and picking up bargains to sell to antique store owners for a small profit.

It’s how she’d been scraping by since her father had been incarcerated just before Christmas…

with varying results. “I suspect we both know who it’s from.

The question is, will Mrs. Temple have good news or bad for me? ”

Mina, who was sitting in the window seat with a book in hand, cast Emmeline a sympathetic smile. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out. It’s time to rip off the plaster and see what’s there.”

Equal measures of curiosity and trepidation sparking, Emmeline crossed to her narrow bed with its starched sheets and Academy-regulation counterpane of pale blue wool.

Her interview with the Culpeppers yesterday had not gone as planned.

Despite her best efforts—her second teleportation attempt between the police boxes in Belgrave Square and Bedford Square had been successful—she’d been terribly late.

And her uniform hadn’t been up to snuff after she’d landed on top of St Lawrence House and subsequently got caught in the rain.

There’d even been a smudge of soot on her cheek!

But a tiny part of her hoped that she’d impressed Mr. and Mrs. Culpepper anyway.

The enigmatic Duke of St Lawrence certainly seemed to like her.

Even though he’d been a little hard to read.

And despite the fact she’d caused him no end of inconvenience.

Good Lord, she’d even fallen on top of the poor man when she’d lost her blasted footing on the attic ladder!

Every time Emmeline revisited that awkward moment, heat scorched her cheeks.

But he already had a nanny, so it wasn’t likely that she’d encounter the nobleman again. Emmeline sighed. More’s the pity. She’d quite liked him, too.

As soon as Emmeline picked up the missive from her pillow, the familiar buzz of magic—a faint electrical humming—made her fingertips tingle, even through her kid leather gloves.

A te- ley -gram or ley gram was sent by magical means rather than by the British Electric Telegraph Company.

Unlike regular telegrams, which relied upon the transmission of electrical signals over wires running along railway tracks or undersea cables to send messages, leygrams utilized the power generated by the Fae’s ancient and mystical leylines.

Whenever leygrams were sent, they would appear at one’s door as if from nowhere.

Emmeline didn’t know precisely how it all worked.

It just was . A bit like all the other magical methods employed by Parasol Academy members.

Apart from the magical thrum emanating from the paper, the sheet was covered in script that looked like gibberish. A leygram could only be deciphered by one who possessed an Academy-issued pair of ley-spectacles, or a quizzing glass fitted with a ley-lens of deep azure blue.

Her pulse zipping through her veins like quicksilver, Emmeline dug out her own quizzing glass (she always kept it in her reticule or pocket as per the Parasol Academy Handbook ’s Chapter 4: Guidelines for the Use and Handling of Accoutrements, Equipment, and Other Indispensable Paraphernalia) and read the contents of the message. And then she permitted herself a sigh.

“Mrs. Temple wants to see me in her office as soon as possible. But she hasn’t said anything else.” She looked up at Mina. “I have an awful feeling about this. If the Culpeppers haven’t offered me the job…”

“You still have two more chances,” said Mina firmly. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

All Academy graduates had three opportunities to secure a position.

During their two-year-long course, and while they were in the process of applying for a post as a nanny or governess, they could board at the Sloane Square headquarters for a small fee of four shillings and three pence per week.

Unless, like Emmeline, one was a “legacy” nanny or governess—because Emmeline’s late mother had been a Parasol nanny before she’d wed, Emmeline’s tuition and board hadn’t cost her a thing.

However, if a graduate failed to secure a job after three interviews, she had to undertake three months of intensive remedial training, and that was not free, regardless of whether one was a legacy nanny or not.

The boarding fee was not waived either. If Emmeline had to undertake remedial training, she didn’t know how she’d manage.

She wouldn’t have time to go to auctions or markets to pick up bargains to obtain the funds needed to keep her father safe.

Nor would she be able to afford to have him transferred to a smaller, more hospitable debtors’ prison.

That was an even more expensive enterprise.

She dropped the leygram on the bed and willed herself not to panic. Her mind was racing frantically, conjuring up all manner of worst-case scenarios when perhaps she had nothing to worry about at all. Mina’s advice was sound. She’d best rip the plaster off and go and see Mrs. Temple.

Not knowing what would happen was always the worst bit.

Emmeline caught Mina’s eye. “Do I look all right?” she asked, smoothing her uniform’s wool skirts.

Mina put down her book and crossed the room to Emmeline.

“Absolutely perfect. Except for this bit.” The young woman reached out and repinned one of Emmeline’s stray curls.

She then fluffed up the lace flounces of Emmeline’s nanny’s cap.

“There.” She smiled. “You’ll do. And chin up.

The Culpeppers might want you to start working for them straightaway. ”

“I hope so,” said Emmeline as she headed for the door.

But it turned out the Culpeppers didn’t want her to work for them at all.

“Mrs. Chase,” said Mrs. Temple in a kind but solemn tone that did not augur well, “There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m afraid you didn’t get the job.”

“Oh.” Emmeline’s heart plummeted to the Aubusson rug on the floor beneath her booted feet, while her gaze fell to Mrs. Temple’s silver and crystal-encrusted hand mirror which winked at her from a corner of the headmistress’s desk.

Clasping her gloved hands tightly together in front of her pinafore, Emmeline tried very hard not to let her disappointment show on her face.

To keep the tears pricking at the back of her eyes at bay.

While she had been expecting a “no” from the Culpeppers, the news was still a blow.

It was at moments like this that a little voice at the back of Emmeline’s mind would whisper that she was on the verge of becoming quite desperate. And not just any garden-variety sort of “desperate,” but “Desperate” with a capital D .

Yes—“Desperate”—like a tragic heroine in one of her brother’s pantomimes at the Oberon. The theatrical poster would proclaim:

M RS . E MMELINE C HASE , C HEAPSIDE W IDOW , I S D ESPERATE !

Mrs. Temple, who was seated behind her desk, was watching Emmeline, waiting for her to say something more than “oh” in response to the bad news.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, Emmeline added in a voice that quivered only a little, “I’m so sorry to have disappointed you, Mrs. Temple.

I do hope I haven’t sullied the Academy’s reputation.

It was entirely my fault that I was running late and arrived at the Culpeppers’ in a less than presentable state.

The elements conspired against me. I got caught in a particularly heavy rain shower and I was in such a rush, I forgot to use the Unsmirchify incantation to repair my appearance. ” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Pfft.” Mrs. Temple waved her hand with a vigor that sent her blond ringlets bouncing.

“To be perfectly frank, Mr. Culpepper and his wife struck me as far too persnickety. In hindsight, I’m not sure you and the Culpeppers were the best fit.

And as you know, we endeavor to provide a bespoke service. ”

“Yes… Yes, I do know,” said Emmeline. “And I’m nothing but grateful that you’re not miffed with me.”

Mrs. Temple inclined her head and her lips curled in a gracious smile.

“Occasional indecorous cursing aside, you are one of our best graduates to date, and I’m absolutely certain that I have something else for you.

A situation that is far better suited to your personality and the needs of your potential employer.

” She leaned forward, her fair countenance alight with excitement.

“Earlier today, I received a visit from a highly ranked individual—the Duke of St Lawrence, in fact—who needs a nanny straightaway. Not only that, but he said that he would like to interview you for the post, if you were not otherwise employed. He actually asked for you by name, Mrs. Chase! What say you to that?”

Emmeline’s mouth dropped open and her heart did a little jig. It looked like Nanny Snodgrass had not worked out after all. It might have seemed mean-spirited, but she couldn’t say she was sorry. “I-I would say that I would be most interested. Exceedingly so.”

The headmistress nodded her approval. “Having such an elevated client will be excellent for the Academy’s reputation. The Queen will no doubt be pleased too.”