Leading Lady by Lawana Blackwell

for her, but she wished her mother could understand how difficult it was to travel with an infant child, nanny, and all the trappings. If only she would accept her assurance that they would visit often once Georgiana was old enough. The guilt every telephone call induced made the lapses between them longer and longer.
    Work was the remedy, mindless attention to the task athand, allowing the cool October breezes to refresh her face and dry her tears. She lost all track of time, but looked up and noticed the shadow of the Acacia tree had swallowed much of the garden when Mrs. Burles stepped tentatively outdoors again.
    “Lady Holt?” the housekeeper said, plump hands clasped. She was forty-seven years old, with grayish-brown eyes, and salmon-colored hair pulled into a topknot. “Miss Georgiana is weeping for Nanny Tucker and will not be consoled.”
    Muriel pulled off her gloves, chiding herself. What were you thinking, running her off without a replacement?
    “Who’s tending her now?”
    “Evelyn, your Ladyship.”
    Evelyn was Muriel’s lady’s maid and as dull as shucked oysters. The only reason Muriel kept her on was that she soaked up magazines such as World of Fashion and Godey’s Lady’s Book like a sponge. Georgiana required a clever nanny, Muriel thought, such as Valarie Tucker, or she would grow up to be dull as well.
    Brushing soil from her chin, Muriel said, “Well, send Joyce out for a new doll.”
    “A doll, your Ladyship?”
    “Or something that winds up and makes music. That will cheer her. And telephone the agency, have them send some suitable replacements as soon as possible.”
    “Yes, your Ladyship.” The housekeeper hesitated. “Would your Ladyship care to interview them?”
    Muriel shook her head and knelt down again to her geraniums. “I’ll speak with those you consider most promising, but there is no sense in my weeding through the whole lot when you’re perfectly capable.”
    The nursery situation preyed so heavily upon Muriel’s mind that she was snappish with the servants the rest of the day and scolded Evelyn for laying out a nightgown with the same broken button Muriel had brought to her attention days ago. As she lay in bed, Muriel wondered if the doll hadhelped Georgiana cope with the loss of her nanny. Whoever had the house built sixty years ago, had ordered an extra layer of flooring between the bedchamber and nursery floors. It was convenient when Georgiana was an infant and would have disturbed Muriel’s sleep, but now Muriel had no idea if her daughter was still weeping inconsolably or fast asleep.
    I should check, she thought, reconsidering her decision not to go upstairs for the usual good-night kiss, for fear of upsetting Georgiana anew. After all, wouldn’t breaking the bedtime routine be just as disturbing? She wrestled with the dilemma awhile longer, then sat up and rang for Mrs. Burles. The housekeeper knocked and entered presently, graying hair in papers and the sash to her wrapper tied clumsily at her waist.
    “You rang, your Ladyship?”
    “Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Burles,” Muriel said with an apologetic little grimace to prove it.
    “I was reading, your Ladyship.”
    “Well, that’s good. Who’s with Georgiana?”
    “Joyce, your Ladyship.”
    Muriel gave her the little grimace again.
    “Would your Ladyship wish for me to look in on Miss Georgiana?”
    “Please, Mrs. Burles.”
    She returned minutes later and reported that the child was sound asleep. That burden lifted from her mind, Muriel was able to lie back on her pillows and do the same. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, they would have hired a new nursemaid and her life would continue down its fairly unruffled path.

Five
    In spite of not wishing to be involved in the bulk of the interview process, Muriel could not resist taking a peek in the corridor outside Mrs. Burles’s office the following morning. Applicants filled the seats brought in from the servants’ hall, their spines erect,