Chapter One
San Francisco, 1875
“Look at me, Harvey. I’m trying to tell you the nanny quit, again. It’s Dee. There is something wrong with that child.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a baby. How could she possibly do anything to drive nannies from our employ? Even the boys and all their pranks never managed that.”
“She’s six and just because she has you wrapped around her little finger doesn’t mean other people aren’t disturbed by her behavior.”
“I won’t have this, Georgia. She’s a precious child. Find some way to deal with her. Your father is coming by for dessert and brandy. I need to prepare. We’re going to discuss the new contracts. I haven’t time to appease your hysteria.”
“Very well. If you won’t listen to me, I’ll talk to Daddy when he comes.”
“Really, Georgia? Aren’t you rather old to complain to Daddy? That may have worked when we were newly married, but your father understands I control this household.”
“Do you seriously believe Daddy will continue to employ you if I leave? Where would you be then, Harvey?”
Fifteen years of matrimony served to harden Georgia. Sick to death of men controlling her life, she ejected Harvey from her bedroom not long after Dee’s birth for that exact reason. Their marriage was something taken out for show much like the sterling silver tea service. But this was important. Something must be done about Dee. She noticed Harvey’s sanctimonious grin had vanished. His auspicious wedding to an heiress ended his life of poverty. She knew he had no desire to revisit that existence.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Harvey warned, but Georgia knew it to be a hollow threat.
“I want to send her to boarding school. Somewhere she’ll be watched closely. Somewhere she’ll be disciplined appropriately.” When there was no response, Georgia turned and marched out the library door, slamming it soundly behind her.
After climbing the winding staircase, she walked down the hall toward the nursery and paused outside. Normally, she would give a knock before entering. Instead, she charged through the door.
Dee sat on her bed, neither startled nor afraid. Her lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line, never smiling nor frowning. She stared at her mother as if she were some servant come to fetch the chamber pot.
“Why are you wearing that dress? I told you to take it off hours ago.”
Dee refused to comment on her mother’s ridiculous request. She was fond of the plain black dress; it was her favorite. Mourning clothes suited her. The fact she wore it to the neighbor boy’s funeral only served to endear the garment to its young owner.
“What smells?” Georgia crossed the room to open the window then walked toward the bed. “What is that smell, Dee? Answer me. It smells like burnt hair. Did you burn your hair?” Georgia took hold of her daughter’s shoulders and turned her from side to side. Every brunette hair was perfectly placed, as always. It seemed unnatural for any child to appear so prim and proper. Georgia heaved an exasperated sigh, knowing Dee would never mar her own appearance.
Georgia gasped when another idea entered her head. She released Dee to peek under the dresser, then the bed. “Where is your kitten, Dee?” Georgia gripped her daughter’s chin and forced Dee to look into her eyes. She appeared as menacing as an angry adult could possibly look. “Answer me, now!”
Unintimidated, Dee stared right back. “He may have swished his tail in the candle flame. He’s not very bright.” Her clever comment caused Dee’s eyes to sparkle.
“Where is the kitten? Where is he?”