Free The Royal Nanny by Karen Harper Page B

older brothers.
    â€œIs everything all right?” I asked Finch when he closed the door behind us.
    â€œTwo things the duke—I mean our soon-to-be new prince—told me before they went. One, he thinks Bertie’s looking knock-kneed and insists he wear iron splints to straighten his legs. He says you should order some sailor suits with wider trouser legs, because the splints will be ready soon. He’ll sleep in them at night too. He won’t have a knock-kneed sailor son someday, His Lordship said. And you’re to sew up all the pockets in both boys’ trousers so they don’t stick their hands in them and slouch about.”
    Tears prickled my eyes. “Iron splints? Poor boy. And?”
    â€œAnd he insists that the new tutor who’s being brought in for the lads—and you since you taught them to read and write their abc ’s—must force Bertie to write with his right hand, not his left.”
    â€œBut I had a brother born left-handed. He could not do decent penmanship with his right. It fretted him something awful, and Bertie’s delicate anyway. Good gracious, his little system never got over being fed so erratically by that woman, not to mention being locked in cabinets.”
    I had confided in Finch about Mrs. Peters, for somehow her ghost still stalked the halls. Neither lad ever spoke of her, but I swear David’s combination of rebelliousness and clinging nature and Bertie’s bad nerves and upset stomach were her dreadful legacy to them and to all of us.
    â€œBut the staff says you’ve done wonders with Bertie,” Finch insisted.
    â€œWhich I don’t want reversed.”
    â€œWell, his father has spoken, and that’s that. No way to try to get his mother to weigh in, not a bit.”
    â€œNo. Thank you for telling me. If you don’t mind, I’ll try to break it to Bertie—unless you feel you must.”
    â€œLet’s try to explain it to him together. I know you have the day off—what’s left of it, so tomorrow?”
    â€œYes, all right then. But my heart isn’t in his wearing braces or the handwriting change, and he’ll know it. I’ve always tried to tell them true.”
    â€œTime to stop coddling them, their father says, you and their mother and grandmother too.”
    Nursemaid Martha approached, so I turned to her as Finch went on his way. She was probably thinking something about our whispering in the hall, for she had a soft spot for a handsome man. I could have told her, though, that Frederick Finch was dedicated to his career and to climbing higher in royal service. In short, an ambitious man, not an amorous one, and I thought the duke had chosen well with him.
    â€œIt’s your afternoon free, Mrs. Lala,” Martha reminded me. “Mrs. Wentworth said off you go—or just come down to her room since it’s so cold out. But I see Mr. Chad Reaver’s waiting for someone down by the frozen pond again, standing in the snow, he is.”
    â€œThank you, Martha. I would never have seen this vast estate at all if it wasn’t for his kindness, and he’s always so busy during shooting and bird breeding seasons. By the way, I hope Mabel won’t be going to London with the new king and queen. We’ve become fast friends, and I would greatly miss her. And, of course, Rose has gone with the duchess.”
    â€œMabel’s to stay here, keep Sandringham House proper for them, got raised to head housemaid, she did, because hear tell they took the other to Buckingham Palace. The prince—I mean the king—says they’ll be back often as they can. Right now she’s helping sheet the furniture in all the rooms. And guess what else?” she said lowering her voice. “The Big House is to have thirty flush lavatories installed by the Thomas Crapper Company while they’re away. Mabel’s to oversee all that.”
    â€œI tell you, we could use just one