Читать книгу Running Away to Love - Barbara Cartland - Страница 2

Ivana walked quietly down the corridor towards the study.

She had come in from a walk in Hyde Park with her old Nanny, who had been with her since she was a child.

Outside the house she had seen a phaeton drawn by two well-bred horses.

She thought, unhappily, that they belonged to Lord Hanford.

He was a man she disliked exceedingly and was, she well knew, a bad influence on her stepfather.

The last time Keith Waring had gone out to dinner with Lord Hanford they had gambled afterwards and Keith Waring had lost thirty pounds to his Lordship.

This had meant that something else had to be sold from the house.

It was always the treasures that Ivana prized, because they had belonged to her mother.

She was wondering how, if it was Lord Hanford, she could persuade her stepfather to refuse to accept his next invitation to dinner.

She reached the study, which was a small room where they usually sat when they were alone.

She could hear a harsh somewhat vulgar voice speaking loudly.

Her heart sank, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She was just turning away to tiptoe away and back to her bedroom in case Lord Hanford asked to see her, when she heard him say,

“I want Ivana and I intend to have her!”

There was a pause.

Then Keith Waring replied,

“I have been trying to find a rich husband for her.”

“You know perfectly well that I cannot offer her marriage,” Lord Hanford answered, “but I will settle enough money on her so that she will never want again, in fact I was just thinking of one thousand pounds a year.”

Again there was a pause.

Ivana stiffened and felt that she could not be hearing aright.

Then, to her horror, she heard her stepfather somewhat hesitantly say,

“And what about – me?”

“I have not forgotten you,” Lord Hanford replied. “I will give you five thousand pounds, which will pay off your immediate debts and a thousand pounds a year for as long as Ivana and I are together. You will not get a better offer from anyone else.”

Ivana held her breath.

Surely, she thought, her stepfather would tell Lord Hanford that his idea was degrading and impossible.

Instead of which she heard Keith Waring saying,

“I suppose as I am ‘below hatches’ I shall have to accept your offer.”

“You would be a damned fool if you did not,” Lord Hanford replied. “You will not get a better one.”

There was no answer from Keith Waring and Lord Hanford went on,

“The sooner all this is settled the better. And I expect you feel the same as the duns are at the door.”

“That is true enough,” Keith Waring said plaintively, “but I doubt if Ivana will agree.”

“She can hardly refuse, considering that you are her Guardian,” Lord Hanford said. “You know as well as I do that by the law of the land a Ward has to obey her Guardian, whether she likes it or not.”

“Ivana is very self-willed,” Keith Waring muttered.

“You can leave her to me,” Lord Hanford responded.

“I am quite certain that she will kick up a fuss,” Keith Waring replied. “Perhaps it would be wise to give her something to make her more pliable.”

“If a horse is difficult, I don’t drug it,” Lord Hanford retorted. “I give him a taste of the whip.”

With the greatest difficulty Ivana prevented herself from screaming.

Then Lord Hanford went on,

“I have never yet failed to master a horse or, for that matter, a woman. So stop worrying and just do as I tell you.”

“I am not going to tell Ivana what you are planning,” Keith Waring remarked.

“Nobody has asked you to,” Lord Hanford retorted.

There was a pause as if he was thinking it all out in his mind.

“All you will tell Ivana,” he carried on, “is that you are coming to stay at my house in Hertfordshire. I will collect her in a phaeton and you will say you are following in another. When you don’t turn up, I will console her from worrying over you.”

Keith Waring sighed.

“I suppose you know what you are doing. When do you want her to be ready?”

“On Friday,” Lord Hanford replied. “I will call here at about two o’clock after you have finished luncheon.”

Ivana did not wait to listen any more.

On tiptoe she crept away from the door of the study, hearing, as she did so, Lord Hanford saying,

“Now we have settled all that, let’s have a drink on it.”

She well knew that he was a hard drinker and wondered if there was anything left in the decanters for them to drink.

She was afraid that her stepfather might emerge from the study and then see her.

She started to move as quickly as she could. She crossed the narrow hall and then ran up the stairs.

Since her mother had died, Nanny had slept in the room next to hers and now she burst in through the door.

As she expected, Nanny had taken off her bonnet and the shawl she had worn when they had gone for a walk in the Park.

She was sitting as usual at the table by the window and sewing something.

Ivana closed the door behind her and then stood still for a moment with her back against it.

“Nanny! Nanny!”

It was a desperate cry of anguish, the like of which Nanny had not heard since Ivana was a little girl.

She put down her sewing and rose to her feet.

“What's happened? What’s upset you, dearie?” she asked.

Ivana ran across the room and, kneeling beside Nanny’s chair, hid her face against her.

“Nanny! Nanny!” she cried again. “What am – I to – do? What – am I to – do?”

Nanny held her close.

She had loved Ivana ever since she was born and the doctor, ignoring the midwife, had put the baby into her arms.

“Whatever’s upset you now, dearie?” she asked Ivana again.

Hesitatingly, her words tumbling over themselves, Ivana repeated to Nanny what she had just heard through the study door.

“I hate – Lord Hanford – I hate him, Nanny!” she cried. “When he – stares at me with that – look in his eyes, it – makes me feel sick! He has – only to – touch my hand to make me want to – scream!”

“It’s the most disgraceful thing I’ve ever heard!” Nanny exclaimed. “And your poor dear mother’d turn in her grave, that’s what she’d do.”

“I know – but Step-Papa is – my Guardian.”

“He’s a wicked man. He’s no right to think of acceptin’ anythin’ just so horrible and so degradin’!” Nanny snapped.

“It’s – the money – you well know it’s – the money,” Ivana said. “He spends everything we possess – and now there is little left – to sell.”

Nanny knew that this only too true.

Just yesterday she had ruminated tartly,

“If much more goes from this house, I’ll wake up to find my bed’s been taken from under me!”

All the pretty objet d’arts that Ivana’s mother had collected so diligently over the years had been sold off long ago and the pictures, the Dresden china and even the Persian rugs on the floor had gone as well.

Ivana knew that for weeks the Bank had been demanding that something must be done about the overdraft, which was continuing to grow week after week and month after month and the Bank was becoming more and more aggressive.

The tradesmen’s bills came in regularly with endless urgent messages attached to them demanding payment at once.

Ivana raised her head.

“I know what you are – thinking Nanny,” she said, “and I will – die rather – than become the m-mistress – of any man, let alone Lord Hanford.”

She stumbled over the word ‘mistress’ and then burst into floods of tears.

Nanny held her close.

“We’ll find some way out of this,” she said soothingly, “but only God knows what it can possibly be.”

“How can God – let this – happen to me?” Ivana asked. “How – can He?”

Nanny was silent for a moment and and then she suggested,

“You’ll have to run away, that’s what you’ll have to do!”

Ivana raised her head again.

She was so surprised at Nanny’s advice that she had stopped crying, but the tears were still wet on her cheeks.

Her eyes widened as she asked,

“R-run away? But – where to – Nanny?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out,” Nanny answered. “You knows as well as I do that there’s no money for us to travel North to what relatives you have left and there’s few enough of them at any rate.”

Ivana knew only too well that what Nanny was saying was indeed true.

She had known when her mother had died that there were practically no relatives at the funeral.

Now that she was an orphan, she was very much alone.

Her beloved father, the Honourable Hugo Sherard, had been tragically killed at the Battle of Salamanca fighting against Napoleon in the Peninsula.

Her mother had been broken-hearted and for a year she had hardly spoken to anyone or taken any interest in anything that was going on around her.

Then Keith Waring had come into her life.

Although Ivana despised him, she had to admit to herself that he had made her mother, if not happy, comparatively content.

The Sherards came from Penrith in the North of England and her father’s brother, who was a good deal older than Hugo, had succeeded to the title of Lord Sherard.

He had written her mother a letter when her father had been killed and he had written to Ivana when he had learned of her mother’s death.

He had not, however, suggested that she should go to the North and live with him and his family.

She knew that he had a wife and children of his own and he doubtless had no wish to house an impoverished relative, besides which, it was a very long way to drive up to Penrith in the County of Cumberland.

At the moment anyway it would be impossible for her and Nanny to pay the fares they would be charged by one Post-chaise after another on the way North.

Ivana could think of none of her father’s friends who would wish to take her into their homes.

After her mother had married Keith Waring, she had not kept in touch with those friends she had known when they had lived in the country. Instead she knew only those people who her husband had introduced to her in London.

It was with her money that they had rented the house in Islington.

It was the furniture that had belonged to Hugo Sherard which was arranged in the small and, Ivana thought, rather pokey rooms.

Because they were in London, it enabled Ivana to attend a Seminary for young ladies to complete her education

She and her mother had also visited Museums and Art Galleries, which she had enjoyed a great deal.

Now that she thought of it, the only people they entertained had been the rather raffish friends of her stepfather.

And the majority of them were men.

“Where can we – go, Nanny?” she asked again this time in a whisper.

“I’m just thinkin’,” Nanny answered.

“Perhaps – as we have – no money at all,” Ivana proposed, “I ought to – try and find some – work to do.”

“I’m not havin’ you doin’ menial tasks,” Nanny countered, “not while I’m alive!”

“But we have to eat – and food costs money,” Ivana pointed out in a practical tone.

She sat back on her heels and then crossed her arms over Nanny’s knees.

“Now let’s think this out carefully,” she said. “We have to think quickly, because it is now Tuesday and that leaves only – two days before that – ghastly man will take me away in his – phaeton.”

The terror in her voice was very obvious and Nanny was aware that she was trembling.

She was not surprised.

Lord Hanford, she knew, was well over forty and he had already had two wives.

Although she had no intention of telling Ivana, it was rumoured that he was responsible for his second wife being certified as a lunatic.

The servants had gossiped that it was because he treated her in the same cruel way as he did his horses.

“There must be – something that I – can do,” Ivana was saying. “After all I have had an extensive education and – ”

She stopped and gave a little cry.

“But, of course!” she exclaimed. “I did the accounts in the country when Papa was in the War and, after he was killed, Mama left everything to me. I could be a secretary!”

Looking at her, Nanny thought it was very unlikely that anyone who looked as lovely as Ivana would be employed by a woman.

And if a man should do so, it would undoubtedly be dangerous.

“Perhaps,” she said after a moment, “you could be a reader to an elderly lady. After all they needs someone to read to them when they’re gettin’ old and goin’ blind and you have a really lovely reading voice.”

“That is what Mama used to say,” Ivana answered. “I would read the Collects to her on a Sunday and then the poems of Lord Byron. They made her cry because they reminded her of Papa.”

She sighed deeply and recalled how happy she had been reading to her mother before Keith Waring came into her life.

Then, as if forcing herself to be practical, she asked Nanny,

“How can I find out if there is a position out there waiting for me? Would there be an advertisement for a reader in the newspapers perhaps?”

“You have to go to an Employment Agency, dearie,” Nanny replied. “I’ll try and find out from Mrs. Bell downstairs which is the best one in London.”

When they first came to London, Mrs. Bell had been engaged to clean the house and help Nanny with the cooking.

Nanny was a very good cook and had started to cook when they had been in the country.

After she was bereaved, Mrs. Sherard had to be tempted to eat anything and, after they came to London, Nanny had continued cooking because she enjoyed it so much.

What was more she was far cheaper than anyone else they could have employed.

Mrs. Bell charged very little for coming to the house for only two or three hours every morning. She cleaned out the fireplaces, scrubbed the floors and made the beds.

“Yes, ask Mrs. Bell,” Ivana said, “and ask her quickly, Nanny, because there is no time to lose.”

She felt a sense of terror surging through her body and it was making her feel incredibly agitaed.

Every minute was drawing her closer and closer to the moment when Lord Hanford, with his red face and his swimming eyes, would pull her roughly into his phaeton beside him and drive her away to unmitigated hell.

He would carry her away to the country where she would be imprisoned and never have any chance of escape.

Nanny rose from her chair.

“Now, you sit here,” she said, speaking as if Ivana was three years old, “and be careful, if your stepfather comes in here not to let him know what you have overheard him talkin’ to Lord Hanford.”

“No, of course – not,” Ivana said, “but hurry – do hurry – Nanny, I am frightened – I am terribly – frightened!”

Nanny went from the room and Ivana sat down in the chair that she had vacated and put her hands over her eyes.

How can this have happened?

How could the future be so degrading and so utterly abominable and menacing?

It was like being a dark room that she would never be able to escape from.

She knew well that her stepfather was a weak character and he was quite incapable of making money, only of losing it at the gaming tables.

He had, however, she had to admit even now at this time of terror, been really in love with her mother.

That was not so surprising since Mrs. Sherard had been exceedingly beautiful and lovely in every sense of the words.

There had been a great many men in love with her before she had met the Honourable Hugo Sherard.

They had both fallen in love with each other virtually at first sight and been ecstatically happy.

Years later, the Dragoon Guards, the Regiment that he was serving in, was sent to the Peninsula to fight for his King and country. They had formulated a brilliantly conceived plan to attack Napoleon where he might least have expected it.

However, after less than a year abroad, Hugo Sherard was killed.

At first Ivana thought that her mother would die too from grief and anguish.

Then, when she had seemed to be fading away and becoming weaker and weaker, Keith Waring appeared.

He was indeed an exceedingly handsome young man and because of his looks he had been spoilt dreadfully by every woman who had ever met him.

And Mrs. Sherard was no exception.

He was so very different from her first husband that in a way she mothered him.

She could not resist him when he finally declared that he would die if she did not marry him.

Ivana realised that it was a sacrifice on his part because he could, if he had wished, marry someone far richer and more prestigious.

But he genuinely loved her mother.

That, however, did not prevent him from spending every penny she possessed without thinking at all what the consequences would be.

Ivana had never liked him. She knew that he thought of her as just an encumbrance and resented the affection that her mother very obviously had for her.

From one or two things he had said recently she knew that he was thinking that, if he could find her a rich husband, he would be able to get her off his hands.

He would also undoubtedly line his own pockets to gamble with at the same time.

She never in her wildest imagination, however, thought that he could stoop so low as to ‘sell her’ to someone as unpleasant and dislikeable as Lord Hanford.

Lord Hanford was immensely rich that was undeniable and he could easily buy whatever he desired just by lifting his little finger.

Equally she could imagine how completely horrified both her father and mother would be at such despicable behaviour.

How could she contemplate the idea of living with a man without being married to him?

‘How can I possibly – do anything so – humiliating?’ she thought bitterly to herself.

She heard a footstep outside the door and was apprehensive for a moment that it was her stepfather.

But it was Nanny who came bustling into the room.

Because Ivana had jumped instinctively to her feet and was looking terrified, Nanny said soothingly,

“It’s all right, dearie, he’s gone out with his Lordship. He left a message with Mrs. Bell that he will not be back for luncheon or dinner.”

Because they had been counting every farthing that was spent in the household lately, Ivana could not help thinking that this would save two meals.

Nanny closed the door behind her.

“I’ve found out what we wants to know,” she said. “The best Agency be Mrs. Hill’s on Mount Street.”

“That is some distance away,” Ivana remarked.

“I know,” Nanny said, “but if you’ve got to work for anyone, I’ll see to it as you works for the best!”

“Shall we go there at once?” Ivana asked.

“You’d better have your luncheon first,” Nanny said. “There be no hurry, the Master won’t be comin’ back till the early hours of the mornin’, if I knows anythin’ about him.”

“Oh, Nanny, I do hope he does not lose any more money,” Ivana remarked.

As she spoke, she thought that if she was going to run away, it would no longer matter to her what happened.

Because Nanny expected it, Ivana went downstairs to the small dining room.

She had once suggested that, as Nanny did the cooking, she could sit in the kitchen.

Nanny would not hear of it.

“So long as I’m here you’ll eat in the dinin’ room, like the lady you are and behave like a lady and no nonsense about it!” she had asserted tartly.

Ivana helped herself to the cold chicken salad that Nanny had prepared for her earlier in the day.

She could not help wondering, when she was no longer a ‘lady’, if she would eat in the servants’ hall.

She did not say so to Nanny, however, because she knew how much it would upset her.

She finished most of the salad even though she was far too agitated to be feeling in any way hungry.

Then she ran upstairs to put on the pretty bonnet she had worn when they went walking in the morning.

Nanny was a great believer in fresh air. She had always insisted on Ivana walking in the Park at some time during the day.

As Ivana came downstairs, she found that Nanny had also put on her bonnet and her grey shawl was draped over her shoulders.

“Now, put your best foot forward,” Nanny urged her. “The walk’ll do you no harm on such a nice day.”

“No, of course not,” Ivana agreed, “but I wish we could do it in the country.”

She paused before she added,

“I suppose, Nanny, we could not just – disappear into the country and find a tiny cottage ‒ where we could be on our own?”

“And how would we pay the rent?” Nanny enquired.

There was no answer to that and she went on,

“The only country we knows, you and me, is Huntingdonshire, where we were so happy when you were a child. And you may be quite sure if you’re missin’, that’ll be the first place your stepfather’ll look.”

“Yes, of course, I did not think of that,” Ivana admitted in a small voice.

They walked briskly because, although Nanny had turned fifty, she was still very fit.

It took them nearly three-quarters of an hour to reach Mount Street in Mayfair.

It was not difficult to find Mrs. Hill’s Domestic Agency, which was on the first floor of No. 19.

There was a shop window in the front and beside it there was a door, which was open, revealing a narrow stairway.

Nanny stopped and Ivana asked her a little nervously,

“Are you coming in with me, Nanny?”

Nanny shook her head.

“That’d be a mistake,” she replied. “Them as is lookin’ for employment don’t take their Nannies with them! Now you go up, dearie, and try not to be nervous. I’ll be in the street lookin’ in the shop windows.”

Feeling as though she were very small and unprotected, Ivana climbed up the staircase.

There was a small landing and on one door there was a sign, which read,

MRS. HILL’S DOMESTIC AGENCY.

She opened the door and saw that there were several wooden benches inside against the wall.

On them were seated two rosy-cheeked young girls obviously up from the country. She guessed that they must be in search of suitable work like herself.

There was also an elderly man who might have been a coachman who was getting too old for his job.

At the far end of the room there was a high desk that had been painted in a dull beige colour.

Seated at it was an elderly woman wearing a red wig and blue spectacles. She looked so strange that Ivana stared at her, thinking that this surely could not be Mrs. Hill?

If she was staring, so was Mrs. Hill.

After a moment she said in a somewhat high-pitched voice,

“This way, madam, if you please.”

Ivana realised that she was speaking to her.

Then, as she walked towards the desk, she understood.

Mrs. Hill had mistaken her for a would-be employer, who was visiting the Agency and not an employee.

This idea was confirmed when, as she reached the tall desk, Mrs. Hill, looking down at her, asked,

“And what can I do for you, madam? I suspect it’s a lady’s maid you’ll be wanting?”

With an effort Ivana made herself speak,

“No,” she replied, “I am not wishing to engage anyone but to be engaged.”

Mrs. Hill drew a deep breath and there was a different expression in the eyes behind the blue spectacles.

Her voice had now sharpened as she asked,

“What sort of position do you require, might I ask?”

“I was wondering if you had a vacancy for a reader or perhaps a secretary.”

Mrs. Hill gave a disdainful sniff before she opened a large ledger that was lying on the desk in front of her.

“I would very much doubt if we have any position like that available for you,” she then said in a pointed tone.

“Oh, please, try and find one,” Ivana insisted. “I am very eager to find employment and I have been told that you are not only the best Agency in the whole of London but you are also brilliant at finding applicants what they require.”

As she spoke, she felt that she was almost being prompted by someone mysterious on what she should say.

There was no doubt that the flattery was succeeding.

Mrs. Hill turned over two or three pages and then said in a more conciliatory manner,

“Well, I’ll have a good look, but I’m not that optimistic.”

It was then a woman appeared from behind the desk.

She was in every way very different from Mrs. Hill. She was small and looked somewhat crushed. Her hair was grey, turning white, and she obviously made no effort to disguise her age.

In a low rather humble manner she suggested,

“I think, perhaps, you should look at page number nine, Mrs. Hill.”

Mrs. Hill flipped over the pages impatiently.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Hetty,” she said. “You know as well as I do they’re looking for a man.”

“We haven’t been able to find one,” Hetty replied, “and I just thought this young lady might be able to speak French.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Mrs. Hill snapped.

“On the contrary,” Ivana interposed. “I speak French fluently. In fact as well as I speak English.”

Mrs. Hill stared at her.

“If you’re telling me a lie,” she threatened ominously, “I’ll not forgive you in a hurry.”

“I am telling you the truth,” Ivana said. “I was brought up with some French children and therefore I really am very fluent in French.”

“I suppose you’ve forgotten,” Mrs. Hill said as if she must have the very last word, “that they’re our enemies! We should have nothing to do with the French or that monster Napoleon Bonaparte!”

Ivana was wondering what to reply.

Mrs. Hill, however, after almost glaring at her, looked down again at the ledger.

“It’s been on the books for almost two weeks now,” the woman called Hetty whispered, “and we still haven’t found anyone to send them.”

“Very well,” Mrs. Hill said. “Be it on your own head and don’t blame me if this young woman’s turned away with a rude message.”

“If it is a question of speaking French,” Ivana intervened, because she thought that Hetty was being crushed, “I promise you that the lady or gentleman who requires a reader to speak French will be perfectly satisfied.”

Mrs. Hill sniffed again.

“Pride goes before a fall!” she quoted loftily.

She wrote something down on a card that she had in front of her, paused and then handed it to Ivana.

“That’s the address,” she said, “and this is who you should ask for on arrival. If you’re not accepted, it won’t be worth your while coming back here.”

“I understand,” Ivana said. “Thank you very much for being so kind. I am very grateful.”

She smiled at the woman called Hetty and said to her,

“And thank you so much too. ”

Holding the card in her hand, she walked across the room to the door.

Two more older-looking servants had come in while she had been talking and taken their seats just inside the door.

One was a man and, as she approached, he rose and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, thinking he looked like a butler.

“Good luck!” he muttered and she smiled back at him.

Going down the stairs, she stepped out onto the pavement and looked round for Nanny.

For one frantic moment she thought that she had disappeared. Then she saw her a little farther down the road, admiring some expensive china in a shop window.

She ran up to her.

“Nanny! Nanny!” she cried. “I’ve been told there is someone who needs a secretary who can speak French.”

“Well, that’s somethin’ you can do, dearie,” Nanny smiled. “So where is it?”

Ivana then looked down at the card in her hand for the first time.

Then she stared at it with an expression of surprise on her face that made Nanny ask,

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I-I suppose it is – all right,” Ivana said hesitatingly, “but – where we have to go is to the War Office – and ask for the Earl of Lorimer.”

“Are you sure?” Nanny queried.

She inspected the card for herself and then commented,

“Well, as it’s the War Office, I suspect they wants secretaries who can speak French to translate messages and speak to the French prisoners.”

“Oh, of course!” Ivana then exclaimed. “And they’ll want people to translate the secret documents they capture on the battlefields and things like that.”

“I don’t suppose that’ll be too difficult a task for you,” Nanny said, “but I don’t like to think of you workin’ alongside a lot of men.”

“Why not?” Ivana enquired of her. “You can hardly expect the War Office to employ only women!”

She was suddenly still.

“I have just thought,” she said in a different tone. “Mrs. Hill said that they had asked for a man. But, as they have been unsuccessful in finding one so far, they – might well give me – a chance.”

It was obvious now that Mrs. Hill had been almost positive that she would be refused the position.

As if Nanny knew what she was thinking, she observed,

“There’s no harm in tryin’ and, if they sends you away, we’ll just have to try another Agency. You can’t expect to land on your feet the first time you takes a jump!”

It was so like Nanny to say something like that that Ivana laughed.

“How do we get to the War Office?” she asked.

“We takes a Hackney carriage, that’s how,” Nanny said, “and no nonsense about it. If we hangs about too long, if I knows anythin’ about those office people, they’ll all be goin’ home and the place’ll be locked up.”

Ivana knew that this was sensible of Nanny. At the same time she could not help feeling that it was rather extravagant to hire a Hackney carriage to take them to the War Office.

Nanny, however, insisted and they found a Hackney carriage waiting at the end of the street.

When they told the driver where to go, he seemed impressed. He whipped up his tired old horse and they set off at a quick pace into Berkeley Square.

Nanny was looking out of the window to see where they were going.

Ivana, however, was holding the card that Mrs. Hill had given her tightly in her hand and praying.

‘Please, God,’ she prayed, ‘please let them employ me. I would do anything – anything rather than have to do what my stepfather – wants of me and go – away with that – wicked and cruel old man.’

Even to think of Lord Hanford now made her tremble again.

Nanny put her hand over hers.

“It’s goin’ to be all right, dearie,” she said, “I feels it in my bones and if the worse comes to the worst, we’ll run away together and scrub doorsteps. It’s somethin’ I’ve done before when I was somewhat younger and I suspects that I can do it again.”

Ivana laughed as Nanny had meant her to do.

“I am sure your doorsteps will be much cleaner than mine, Nanny,” she replied.