“Becky? Becky? The scary man is back!!!” Madeline cried out in the night, the moon was new and very little light in the strange surroundings did nothing to assuage her nightmares in the dark nursery. Rebecca rushed in and comforted the little girl before her crying could wake the baby. She had taken to sleeping in what would be the nanny’s room these last few days as Madeline had yet to make it through a night without waking. It was becoming difficult to find a nanny that fit both Stanley and her requirements. Staying in the nanny’s room also gave her the ability to set the time and place of Rebecca’s sleeping arrangements and control that aspect of this new dynamic between she and Mr. Jamieson.

As Rebecca soothed the dark-haired little nymph back to sleep, she smothered burgeoning feelings of pity for the girl. She too had lost a mother and knew its pain, but Rebecca could not allow her heart to be invaded ever again. It hurt too much. So, she steeled her resolve and promised to redouble her efforts to hire suitable staff before the week was out.

Mr. Jamieson, "Stanley" he kept insisting she call him, had only called on her once more to punish his imagined and real sins since that first eye-opening evening. He was pushing her to be closer and closer to him. And she wanted that—oh yes she did. But, she thought to herself, it would be done on her terms and timetable.

Returning to the small closet of a room adjacent to the nursery, Rebecca bundled up under the blankets on the narrow cot. Then, she turned the gas light on its lowest setting and removed her secret from her heart. Her secret was one small thin gossamer strand of silver and attached-- a small key. The key fit a diary lock. The diary, her one treasured possession, was slightly tattered and dog-eared. It had been her mother’s. This window into the past was kept when her mother was a young girl up until a few weeks before marriage to Rebecca’s father. This diary was the one possession Rebecca allowed herself to cry over now. Half filled, Rebecca began using it shortly after she realized that the string of mistresses father had would never fill the void mother left behind.

In the pages of this book, she could show vulnerability. Only here. To the outside world, she must be as strong as an oak and as willing and bending as a willow to execute her plan to perfection so as to enact her survival and secure her place in the world.

Rebecca wiped her face before the tears started. Really, this would never do, she thought. Tomorrow when Stanley goes to the embassy, the office, she will finish interviewing the last three applicants and make a decision. Well, make Stanley make a decision—the right one, of course. And the butler. The last piece of the staff puzzle. One of the ladies at the milliner’s shop yesterday mentioned a most fascinating idea. She mentioned a Japanese man looking for work that might be just perfect. He had been in charge of Undersecretary of War’s household here in Washington City. Well, until the undersecretary’s unfortunate stroke. Unfortunate for his mistress in the bedroom at the time, that is. Rebecca thought he would be very good addition to the household. From what she had heard, he could run a country in silent efficiency if he was allowed the chance. If she could secure his employ, that would be perfect.

Oh yes, if Rebecca could just keep herself together, she would have the pieces of her plans falling into place, almost as neatly as checks on a checklist.