Monica McGurk - The Agency: The Norwood Nanny Chronicles, Book One

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by River Grove Books
Austin, TX
www.rivergrovebooks.com

Copyright 2022 Monica McGurk

All rights reserved.

Thank you for purchasing an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright law. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Distributed by River Grove Books

Design and composition by Greenleaf Book Group and Mimi Bark
Cover design by Greenleaf Book Group and Mimi Bark
Cover images used under license from Shutterstock.com/Anabela88

Publishers Cataloging-in-Publication data is available.

Print ISBN: 978-1-63299-478-3

eBook ISBN: 978-1-63299-479-0

First Edition

For my parents

The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.
William Ross Wallace

PROLOGUE

It was the most basic of things, she knew.

Ruby had even said it once, in class.

And shed tried so hard. Shed struggled through all the courses and practicums, learning all the roles of nannycook, teacher, entertainer, nurse. Even moral compass. Protector.

Shed handled tantrums and baths. Shed made snacks and tea and smuggled them treats, earning her way to the inner circle of their happy family through their little bellies. Shed clasped their hands to dance, built pillow forts on the floor, and tucked them in, one by one, pretending not to hear when they asked for just one more bedtime story.

Secretly loving it when they asked for just one more bedtime story.

Shed won their hearts, and the belief of their parents. So much so that those parents had entrusted their childrens four little bodiesthese miracles of life who were flesh of their fleshwholly to her. To keep them safe.

And willingly, innocently, theyd come.

They had not questioned her when shed led them away from their school. When shed whisked them away in cars and vans to strange places, promising them adventures. When she had unspooled majestic tales and stories, weaving distractions so profound they had lasted them through days of captivity, theyd gone along, closing their eyes and imagining they were therethat they were anywhere else but in the belly of a ship, headed to someplace unknown and frightful. And, with their imaginations at play, theyd overlooked how parched their throats had become, and the stench of their own waste, trapped in the bottles shed tucked and piled into corners, and the aching hunger that was becoming more pronounced with each passing day.

Its sort of a nanny job requirement to be able to handle bodily fluids and all manner of unpleasant things . The only other thing more fundamental to the job is to not lose the children .

Thats what Ruby had said.

And now shed lost them. Shed lost them, maybe for good.

Chapter One

ORIENTATION

Bath, England

Pardon me.

The lanky boy paused expectantly, looking past Bree to the empty seat next to her. Bree inexplicably flushed. He was the first person actually to speak to her, to even acknowledge her existence, since shed snuckan hour earlyinto the campus auditorium to await the convocation ceremony. Shed chosen what shed thought to be an inconspicuous spot on the side of the wood-paneled room. Now, with the compact space filling up with her classmates, every seat was being claimed.

Clutching her backpack, she pressed her legs awkwardly against the chair and made room for him to squeeze through the row.

He smiled, one crooked tooth marring an otherwise perfect, glossy row. Many thanks.

She blurted out nervously, No problem.

He brightened as he tumbled, book bag and all, into the chair next to her, peering at her with heightened interest. Ah! An American, are you? But how can that be? Has the old battle-axe Dean Albourn altered her stance toward the inclusion of residents from the wayward former colonies?

She blinked at him, trying to parse the meaning from his big words and toothy enunciation. You can tell Im American from the two words I spoke?

He chortled with delight. With that gorgeous accent, which I take to be Southern? Of course I can tell. His eyes sparkled. Im right. Do tell me I am right. It would be such a relief to find another unicorn with whom I could share the burden.

Unicorn? she asked, feeling herself blush, ashamed at her confusion, again.

He waved a hand around the cozy auditorium, the seats of which were rapidly filling in, bringing life to the stern gothic stone and soaring ceilings. Im Norwoods first manny! He waited for her reaction, but she gave him her blankest look. Yes, yes, I know. Dreadfully poor from the point of view of punning, but it seems the media have taken a liking to it and so here I sit, stuck with it.

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. You dont know, do you? Thats brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! He reached over and clutched her hands. Its like youve just come in out of the wilderness. You and I will have so much fun together. We will be outsiders, together. Splendid. Im Dashiell, he rolled on, oblivious to her discomfiture as he shook her hand ceremoniously. Norwoods first male matriculant. Ever. He gestured at the crowd again and waited for her reaction.

She blinked once more as she realized that, indeed, Dashiell was the only man in the entire room.

And you are...? he prompted.

Bree. Bree Parrish. From Florence, Alabama.

Bree Parrish. Why, with a name like that you almost sound British. But here you sit, Norwoods first American pupil.

What? she blurted. Im the first?

Surely you knew? he chortled.

A bustle from the stage drew his attention away from her before she could deny having known anything of the sort. In fact, it seemed implausible. Suddenly, the bright chirping of the assembled young women diminished to a low murmur. He leaned over and shushed. Its the battle-axe herself, he indicated, as a woman with a very impressive bosom mounted the steps to the lectern. Brace yourself, my dear Bree. You are about to encounter one of the most fulsome displays of Britishness you will ever have the pleasure to witness in your entire life. Watch, and be amazed.

A straight-backed woman just slightly over five feet, to Brees best estimate, gripped the neck of the microphone, adjusting it from atop a stepstool behind the lectern. Ahem. Ladies. Ladies, she repeated, a shard of steel infusing her voice with authority. Instantly, the crowd silenced. And gentleman, the woman acknowledged with a tilt of her head toward Dashiell, her nose wrinkling slightly as if she had just taken note of a particularly bad smell.

Dashiell nodded back to her, with a quick wink to Bree.

Welcome to this opening convocation of this, the one hundred and twenty-fifth year of the Norwood College, where we build not only careers, but families, constructed from the foundations of academic rigor, discipline, sacrifice, commitment, and empowerment. Norwood offers more than just the most preeminent undergraduate degree in child development in the world; if you work hard enough, you may be accepted into its caregiver preparatory program and graduate in parallel with a coveted Norwood Diploma. The diploma, as you know, unlocks the door to unimaginable opportunitiesdiploma holders care for the children of CEOs, royal families, diplomats. They run their own caregiving institutions and schools. There is nothing else comparable to it in the entire world.