Chumley's Return

by RevSue

When Cholmondeley returns, the Professor learns something which surprises him concerning Nanny ... now how can he use the information?

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!

'Chumley's' Return

She strained closer to him, desire firing her response to his kisses. Never had she felt such pleasure washing through her, never had she wanted anything as much as she wanted his embrace. But even as she responded wholeheartedly, something within her cried out that it should not be happening. She fought to ignore the small voice, but it was no use. She had no right to love the Professor. She was there to work for him, nothing else. It was not her place. Now that he had begun to see her in the guise of an available woman rather than as his children's nanny, she could no longer remain in his employ. It was not possible. She began to struggle to get away from him, the pain from her heartache already overpowering her desire.

"Oh NO, we can't! We really shouldn't do this! Please, you must let me go!" Phoebe cried aloud as she wrenched herself unwillingly out of the Professor's loving arms ... and out of her restless sleep.

Wide-eyed, she looked around her bedroom, even as she registered her thumping heart and trembling body. A dream? It had all been a DREAM? She closed her eyes as she realized she had awoken the Professor, then drew the covers close around her again as he burst into her room, with only a cursory tapping at the door.

"Nanny?" he whispered, "What is it? I heard you cry out ..."

"I'm terribly sorry, Professor," Phoebe said softly, amazed at the steadiness in her voice. "I ... I was dreaming. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Sounded more like a nightmare than a dream from MY room," he said, sitting down on the edge of her bed when she scooted over to give him more room. "Care to talk about it? When Prudence has a bad dream, she wants to talk it over ..."

"I ... no ... I don't think so," she whispered. "But thank you ..." She ached to throw herself into his embrace, to live the dream and make it a reality, but even as she had resisted in her dream, she did so now. She knew better than to try to make THIS impossibility come about!

"Hmmm." the Professor was silent for a moment, then he said, "I heard you cry out that you shouldn't be doing something and to let you go. As though someone was holding you against your will ... What was that about?"

She couldn't possibly tell him she had been dreaming of the two of them together! "Professor, I don't want to keep you up any longer. You need your sleep. You know you have a busy day coming up ..."

He stood up, then said softly, "Nanny, there's something I've been wondering about, and I may as well ask now that I remember. Why does it seem that so many of your relatives have felt a need to visit you this past year, and particularly the last few months? Is there some problem you haven't been sharing with me? Is it ME?"

"Oh, Professor, I ..." Her voice trailed off as her mind went blank, and she wondered what she could possibly tell him.

"Never mind," he said, quickly. "This is no time to get into THAT. Goodnight. I hope you sleep well from now on." He touched her shoulder lightly, then was gone.

Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief. She did know why they had had so many visitors, but she was not keen on telling Professor Everett the reason. They were all coming to check on her. As her aunts Justine and Agatha had said when they visited, she was a Figalilly, and now, after almost two years in California, her family wondered if she were stuck in a rut. That was a situation intolerable for a Figalilly. Everyone in her family wanted to check in to make sure she was all right. She had turned Cholmondeley away too, which did not bode well for the state of her being in their view. Cholmondeley had been the one, in fact, to raise the alarm that perhaps this Professor Everett was not seen in the same light as all Phoebe's previous employers ... by her. Cholmondeley had felt her reticence and withdrawal when speaking of the Professor as her parent in this country, although he had said nothing about that to her at the time. He had pressed the issue of their marriage, hoping to have her see truly into her heart, and it appeared that she had ... and had chosen to remain with the Professor rather than return to her people with Cholmondeley, dear as he was to her.

Phoebe now found herself wondering how she would ever endure the day when it became necessary to leave her life here with the Everetts behind. Despite a continued effort not to let her emotions become involved, an effort that had been very successful in past employments, at some moment during this magical time in California, her barriers had slipped and she had fallen helplessly in love with the tall, handsome, blue-eyed Professor Harold Everett. She should never have allowed herself to be so taken with the Everetts -- ALL of them -- and she especially should never have allowed herself to fall in love with the Professor. They were from different worlds, from vastly different backgrounds. Perhaps she SHOULD leave after all ... her feelings for the Professor were getting too difficult to hide.

Ever since realizing her love for him, Phoebe had conceded that she was headed for a devastating heartbreak. It had begun when Cholmondeley had arrived on the scene three months ago. Since then, in all her dealings with the Professor, she had noticed that their gazes tended to linger a little longer each time their eyes met; and whenever they laughed together, it was with such true enjoyment that it caused tingles of joyful awareness to cascade over her body. In fact, now she found herself wondering why the Professor had never even gone out on a date with anyone else since that time! Was it something she had said or done? She hoped not, because the children really needed a mother and he needed a wife ... someone to love him and look after him and keep the household functioning as a loving home, the way she had tried to make it. She knew she had infused life back into the Everetts home. She really had accomplished what she had set out to do. But although she knew it was time, she was loathe to leave.

If only there was some way she and the Professor could be together forever! However, Phoebe knew that would be asking the impossible, and THAT was breaking her heart whenever she allowed herself to dwell on it. Another problem she acknowledged sadly was that if she were to leave the Everetts, she would either have to marry Cholmondeley at long last, or come up with another excuse to put off the wedding. Although her parents and his had signed the marriage contract the day of her birth, and although neither she nor Cholmondeley would dream of reneging on the promises, she still was not ready to fully commit herself to him. Quite frankly, despite his pressing a few months ago, despite the fact that she had declared and still firmly believed that any woman would be proud to marry Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh, Phoebe was sure that it would be a mistake for her to agree to the marriage now in light of her feelings for the Professor. Yet COULD she leave here and not marry Cholmondeley? What would she say to him, and to the rest of her family?

The next morning, Phoebe overslept again, the second time in memory. Flustered, she hurried down to the kitchen to find the Professor putting the coffee on the stove. He turned around at her entrance and smiled. "Is it a good morning this morning, or don't I dare ask?"

"I overslept AGAIN!" Phoebe declared, tying on her apron and pushing him gently out of the way so she could make the juice. "I'm terribly sorry, Professor! I know you hate doing this ... Please, go sit down."

"I can do it," he said mildly, nevertheless gladly relinquishing the juicer which had been his next task. "But I admit you do it better. So, is your Mars crossing your Aquarius again?"

She smiled. "No, this time it's Venus ... but I'm still at sixes and sevens!"

"Well, you were disturbed in the night." he said.

Her face flushed slightly at the reminder. "And I AM sorry I awoke you, Professor."

"So, are we to expect another visitor today?"

Her eyes flew to his. "Oh, I HOPE not!" But even as she spoke, her heart sank. Of course! No wonder things were so topsy turvy! But why would Cholmondeley be returning so soon? She did hope he would come to her first instead of the Professor, but knowing Cholmondeley, it was impossible to say!

The Professor waved at the secretary as he passed her desk, then set his briefcase down to unlock his office door. Swinging it open, he stepped inside, then stopped short at the sight of Nanny's former fiancé lounging on his chair, with his feet on the Professor's desk, his hands behind his head, and his eyes closed. Chumley didn't move a muscle until the Professor rather rudely dropped his briefcase on the desk with a loud bang, which almost made the Professor himself jump out of his skin. Chumley merely opened his eyes languidly and said, "Oh, you finally made it to work, did you? I must admit, I had almost begun to wonder if I had somehow made a mistake and entered the wrong office!"

"How did you ...?" demanded the Professor, looking at the key in his hand and remembering the click as he had turned it..

"Get in here? Through the door, of course! Oh, how terribly rude of me!" Chumley took his feet off the desk, and jumped to his feet. "My dear chap, please forgive me. I quite forgot that my darling Phoebe might not have apprised you of my impending arrival."

"Not only did she not inform me, she told me she wasn't expecting ... !"

"Another visitor today?" Chumley tsked and shook his head sadly. "She really is becoming rather too ... settled, isn't she? My dear fellow, I ask you, what DO you think has overtaken her, to bring her so low?"

"She seemed all right to me this ...!" the Professor insisted, determined to argue with the man, and unwilling to admit that Nanny had overslept and had appeared more scatterbrained than usual that morning.

"This morning ...yes ..." Chumley stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, truthfully, dear sir, that is precisely why I have come to you."

"Because she's all right?" The Professor stared at the other man, bewildered.

Chumley chuckled faintly. "Oh, dear, no indeed! That is not what I meant. I AM causing problems this morning, amn't I?"

"You am ... er, are!" the Professor growled somewhat. "Why ...?"

"am I here?" Chumley smoothly finished.

The Professor sighed. He hadn't forgotten this man's irritating habit of finishing his sentences, and he STILL detested it. Now he merely raised his eyebrows. LET dear Chumley read his mind, then!

"Oh dear, I'm doing it again." Chumley looked apologetic. "I DO beg your pardon! I know how annoyed you get with my ... educated guesses."

"Ye-es ..." the Professor drawled. "It does make me feel better when I call them that, doesn't it? Let me get this straight ... you are NOT here to marry Nanny?"

"Heavens, no, Professor! She wouldn't have me now anyway, but she doesn't realize that yet. Well, perhaps she realizes it, but she is in no mood to admit it."

"Oh," the Professor felt all at sea.

"No, what I have been sent to find out ... by her parents, and my parents, and indeed the rest of our village ..."

"Just where IS this village? Britain?"

"Well, let me say that it is part of the British Empire, yes," conceded Chumley, somewhat evasively.

"And it is in England?" pressed the Professor.

"Nanny never told you where she was born?"

"My son told me a cockamamie story that, having seen her passport, she was born in China!"

"That is correct, my dear fellow! Near Macau, to be precise!" Chumley smiled and nodded.

"So your village is in ...?"

"I never said the village is in China, Professor. Truthfully, sir, we are not accustomed to thinking of home as being a particular part of ANY country. Home is where the heart is."

"So I've heard." the Professor sighed. He obviously was not going to get any more information from Chumley than he had from Nanny! "So you two were betrothed on the day she was born."

Chumley clasped his hands together, a soulful look on his face. "The day is engraved upon my memory! Such celebrations you cannot imagine ..."

"April 18 ...?"

"That's right," Chumley's smile widened to a broad beaming grin, "April 18th, in the year ..." he stopped abruptly.

"The year?" the Professor prompted.

Chumley's thin face flushed, and he coughed. "Yes, well, my dear chap, I seem to have forgotten the year ..."

"Hmmm."

"At any rate," Chumley rushed on, "her family sent me to question you, after all, you are the head of the household in which she finds herself at the present time, the father figure, so to speak ..."

"Let me tell you once and for all, I do NOT see myself as Nanny's father, nor as an authority figure in her life!" the Professor growled.

Chumley smiled in relief. "But that is precisely it, Professor!"

"It is?"

"Yes! I have been sent to find out just what you DO think of your relationship."

"My relationship?"

"With darling Phoebe! After all, she wouldn't marry me, and she was very evasive when I was here before, and her aunts and uncles agree with my assessment that ... well, that she fancies herself in love with you!"

"WHAT?" the Professor dropped into his chair. "You're kidding!"

"My dear chap, would I joke about anything as serious as marriage? You know me better than that NOW, surely! Yes, it's quite true. Phoebe is still rather ... young and naive, shall we say?"

"You're sure we're talking about the same Phoebe Figalilly? The one who continually bosses me around and knows more about what I think than I do myself?" the Professor asked.

Chumley grinned. "That is just her way. Endearing, isn't it? She has some special gifts ..."

The Professor found himself wondering how much Nanny had shared her 'special gifts' with this conceited popinjay, then he determinedly pushed that thought out of his mind, afraid he'd find Chumley's fist in his face were he to read his thoughts at that precise moment! Then he forgot Chumley as what the other man had said sunk in. Nanny fancied herself in love with him? HIM? A smile began to blossom. Nanny loved him?

Just then the phone rang. "Oh, dear," Chumley looked worried. "I had so hoped she would not find out I was here ..."

"She? Nanny?"

"I'm afraid so, Professor." Chumley's face was woebegone. "I fear she will be livid with me."

Rather gingerly, the Professor picked up the phone. "Hello ... Nanny?"

"Oh, Professor," Sure enough, it was Nanny's quick, light voice ... this time with an edge to it. "Might I possibly trouble you to put Cholmondeley on the line, please?"

Of course. She knew he was here. Without another word and very grateful HE was not on the receiving end of her evident annoyance, the Professor passed the phone over to Chumley, who winced then accepted the receiver. Tuning him out, the Professor once again thought, 'Nanny loves me!' He wondered what she saw in him ... he thought of himself as a rather dreary mathematics professor. Nanny was a world traveller, and had seen so many things he couldn't even imagine. Life to her was a treat, something to be enjoyed, lived to the fullest; everything around her was a wonder to indulge in. What could she possibly see in a life of drudgery with three children, a veritable menagerie of animals, a house to be kept clean ... not to mention being HIS wife! Yet ... she loved him! Even though Chumley appeared not to be sure, the Professor knew in the depths of his being that it was true. She returned his love for her which had been growing steadily for the last year. Suddenly he was overwhelmingly grateful to Chumley for returning, and for letting the cat out of the bag. Who knew how long the two would have gone before admitting to themselves, let alone each other, the depths of the love they bore for the other?

Suddenly the Professor realized that Chumley had hung up the phone, and was now regarding him with eyes that held a hint of sadness in them. Chumley spoke first. "Might I be the first to offer my congratulations, Professor? Both on my own behalf, as well as in my role as the representative of Phoebe's family."

"Congratulations?"

"Certainly, sir! You don't intend to wait much longer before making an honest woman of her, do you?" Chumley looked affronted.

"I will have you know, SIR, that she is the most honest woman I ...!" the Professor was goaded into growling.

Chumley merely smiled. "Have ever met ... yes, I know. You must realize, however, that we wish to know that she will be happily settled, if settled is what will make her happy."

"But will it?" the words escaped the Professor's mouth before he could catch them back. Every member of her family that he had met had made some comment about how Nanny was never in one place very long. It appeared to be a trait of their people, if Chumley's comments about living "here and there, mostly there" and "home is where the heart is" were any indication! How could he even hope to compete with that kind of lifestyle, when he was committed by tenure to staying at this university in this city in the state of California in the United States?

"Phoebe is the only one who can answer that, Professor. No one can make a choice if a choice is not offered to them, remember. And now, I must go."

"Are you going to see Nanny while you're here, or ...?"

"I do not think I am the one she wishes to see right now, Professor. In fact, by what she said to me on the phone, I should think it will be quite a while before she wishes to see me!"

Just then the phone rang again. Chumley looked surprised.

"Nanny again?" asked the Professor.

"Heavens, no. Your secretary." said Chumley. "But who she's announcing is a bit ... shall we say, shocking?"

"Shocking, eh?" The Professor picked up the phone resignedly. More visitors. And he had a class in twenty minutes. "Hello? WHO is here? MY Uncle Alfred? Hmm. Part of the family is already here! Never mind."

When the door opened to admit Nanny's Uncle Alfred, Chumley was smooth and debonair once more. "My dear chap, you are right on the bit, aren't you?"

"Well, we couldn't very well leave you to face the music all alone, now, could we?" Uncle Alfred grinned, shaking Chumley's hand then turning to the Professor. "I'm your backup, so to speak. Your second."

"My backup? Second?" Suddenly he felt as if he was perhaps expected to duel Chumley for the honour of Nanny's hand!

Chumley chuckled. "No, my dear Professor. It is not I you face in battle for that honour, but rather the fair damsel herself."

Before he could stop himself, the Professor blurted, "But you said she ..."

"Loves you, yes." Chumley heaved a sigh.

"Now, I ask you, does a woman show logic?" Uncle Alfred exclaimed, wringing the Professor's hand. "She has some fine talents, our Phoebe, but she's strong on tradition and as a general rule, our kind don't connect with your kind when it involves MARRIAGE, if you know what I mean!"

"I'm afraid I DON'T know what you mean ... and I have a class now. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me ... Make yourselves at home and I'll be back in an hour. BE HERE!" The Professor grabbed his briefcase, knowing he didn't even have to check it, because Nanny would have put the notes for his first lecture on top. Not for the first time, he blessed her foreknowledge of events.

As he left, he heard Uncle Alfred say, "Bit of an all right blighter, now, isn't he? So, Cholmondeley, tell me the news of the village. I haven't been back in ages! Are we in England still?"

The Professor almost turned back at that point, he was so intrigued. A village that MOVED? No, he must have misunderstood ...

When the Professor walked back into his office at the end of his first class, he was glad to see Chumley and Uncle Alfred sitting on the couch sipping on coffee his secretary had obviously brought for them. He picked up the phone to call Nanny, but Chumley spoke up.

"I really do not think she will answer, Professor Everett. I'm afraid I rather embarrassed her with my revelation to you."

After letting it ring a long time, the Professor hung up. "All right, she won't talk on the phone. Is she ...?"

"Still in the house?" Chumley finished. "Well, in a manner of speaking."

"What manner?"

"She's packing," Alfred said, his face glum. "And we was all so happy for her. Cor blimey, all this fuss must have scared Phebe off. And here I thought she was well over her wanderlust, after being here two years and all."

"Uncle Alfred, don't be discouraged!" Chumley turned to the older man.

"He's YOUR uncle, too?" the Professor asked in surprise.

"I'm everyone's Uncle Alfred!" the once-famous Human Fly boasted, his face shining with pride but his eyes still retaining their worried glint.

"Right. I remember now." Then the Professor leaned forward, fixing Alfred Wiggins with a stern glare. "Which reminds me, you left in rather a hurry last time, and I have a question to ask. Who ...?"

"Yes, it was Phebe," confessed Alfred wretchedly. "I would have done it, but the door was locked and while no lock can beat me, lock-picking takes a bit of time, and I didn't have my costume, and the window was so handy, and Phebe was off up the tower before I was organized. She thought she hadn't got a wish, but I wouldn't do that to me Phebe, would I now, eh? She slipped a few times, and me heart was in me throat, but she had you climbing with her in spirit ... and, believe me, I WOULD a done it for you, Professor, had she not done her bit of magicking ... HAVE you noticed anything a little, well, strange about Phebe, Professor?"

The Professor opened his mouth, but Chumley broke in, "Now, now, Uncle Alfred, if you're still in the wish-granting business, you'd be respecting Phoebe's wish right now, wouldn't you? Professor, I know you're worried about darling Phoebe perhaps disappearing as abruptly as she appeared, but ..."

"I'm going home right now," the Professor announced loudly. "And you both are coming with me."

"My dear chap, I don't think ..."

"Undoubtedly. I DO, however. And I WISH to have both of you with me." Glaring them both into submission, the Professor was proud of himself and his decision making. He had to admit to himself, however, that realizing Nanny had only put the notes for his first class in the briefcase had given him the idea to have someone else take over his classes for the rest of the day!

"Well, now you're talking, Professor!" beamed Uncle Alfred. "And Phebe'll be glad to see me, she always is! Once she gets over the shock, you know."

"Shall we go, gentlemen?" The Professor ushered the two reluctant men ahead of him. Although they protested they could find their own way to his place and could come later, he insisted that they come along with him. Once at the house, however, he relented enough to let them wait outside for a short time.

Striding into the house, he almost collided with Phoebe who came out of the living room, an innocently inquiring look on her face.

"Don't say anything, I'm on a roll," he said, taking her arm and leading her back in to sit down in the living room.

"But ..." she began to protest.

"Please, have a seat," He pointed to the couch.

Rather unwillingly, she sat down on a chair, not able to look him in the eye. The Professor hemmed and hawed for a moment or two, then finally realized nothing was going to be said if he wouldn't do it, and obviously Phoebe knew anyway. "Phoebe," he began, and her head shot up, her eyes wide, startled at the use of her name. Then her face flushed and she looked away again as his eyes softened. "Is it true?" he asked at last.

"Cholmondeley should never have said anything!" she said firmly, her eyes on the carpet.

"So it IS true?"

She sighed, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked at him. "Professor, I'm going to borrow one of your country's great sayings, and plead the Fifth." Then she stood up. "And I'll get it on my way past."

"Wha ...?" As the doorbell rang, he rolled his eyes. Those other two men had a WONDERFUL sense of timing! In a moment, he was listening to Uncle Alfred's explanation that she wasn't ready to talk to him anyway, so he and 'dear Chumley' had come to the rescue. "Hers or mine?" the Professor muttered.

When Chumley announced he would retire to the King's Arms for the rest of the day, the Professor looked up sharply. "Oh, no need," he said quickly, and fixed Chumley with a meaningful stare. "In fact, I insist that both you and Uncle Alfred spend the night with us. THIS time I intend to talk a little more with both of you. After all, you have both ..."

"Come so far," finished Chumley. "Yes, that IS true."

"You can both ..."

"My dear chap, we can't possibly turn you out of your room, twin beds or no!" Chumley protested.

The Professor jumped at the opportunity and said quickly, "I'll go into Phoebe's bed." Her head swivelled to his, her eyes wide, and he couldn't contain his grin as the two other men spluttered and protested. "Phoebe will bunk in with Prudence again." he added. "Prudence loves it when Nanny shares her room."

Smiling faintly, Phoebe nodded. "And she also loves having extra visitors to her school functions, one of which is this afternoon. So, gentlemen, shall we have a quick bite of lunch before going en masse over to the school?"

In spite of his great desire to speak with Phoebe alone, OR to pump both Chumley and Uncle Alfred, the Professor didn't have a chance for the rest of the day, until later that night when Phoebe was upstairs putting Prudence to bed and the boys were getting ready in their room. Pulling out the brandy Chumley had brought on his last visit, the Professor poured each of them a glass and sat down with them. "Now then, about ..."

"Phoebe's background?" Chumley shook his head. "We can't divulge information about her that she isn't willing to share with you, Professor. You know that."

"But I just want to know ..."

"Very well, some people call us gypsies, some say we are nomads, to some we are wanderers ..." Chumley began.

"Some even call us bloody fairies!" grumbled Uncle Alfred. "Me, a fairy godfather, I ask you!"

Chumley frowned at him, then turned to the Professor again. "Our village is like a family, you might say ... we move as a group. Always somewhere in the British Empire, as I said earlier, which, in the 19th century was quite extensive, really. There weren't too many our age in the village ..."

"You and her was the only ones," chuckled Uncle Alfred. "Sleeping Lotus weren't around much, being as her parents stayed in the Far East, even when the rest of us moved on! And you DID get into your share of mischief when you two was growing up. No wonder she treats you like her older brother and loves you as such!"

"Her older brother?" the Professor questioned.

"Alas, yes, Professor. She has never loved me as a man ... more for the memories we share and the boy I was ... oh, she would honour her commitment to marry me were I to insist, but I ask you, how could I make darling Phoebe miserable? Oh, not that marriage to ME would do that, merely that she could not remain here ... with you."

"Odd thing that," mused Uncle Alfred. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Prof, but she don't usually stay put. She's traditional, is Phebe, generally on the move like the rest of us. We live here and there, spending time where we are until we get the urge to move on. Phebe grew up with Chumley as the boy next door although the door was in many places around the world! Always in the British Empire, of course! The village, that is. And we keep ourselves to ourselves much of the time. No need, really, for the outside world when the young ones are growing up."

The Professor's mind was reeling with images, and forming his own impressions. Uppermost in his thoughts was that he now realized why Nanny had recognized Prudence's inner loneliness and had sent for the doll she said had given her much happiness when she was a child. Felicity.

"Yes, Professor, Felicity is a family heirloom," Chumley read his thoughts again.

"Good memory for songs, F'licity has!" nodded Uncle Alfred. "Remembers every word!"

"And the hot air balloons?" asked the Professor.

"Justine and Agatha are quite right. They are far superior to airplanes!" Uncle Alfred grinned. "But they take too much concentration. I'd rather relax on a plane, meself."

"Did Nanny really ...?"

"Oh yes, many times, Professor!" Chumley said. "Although naturally now she travels mostly on planes, going from job to job, wherever she's needed."

"Yes ... from Lapland to Kashmir with hardly a moment's notice." The Professor was feeling more and more overwhelmed. Whatever had possessed him to even THINK he could tie someone as ... as exotic as Phoebe Figalilly down to life as Mrs. Harold Everett? She couldn't exist like that! No wonder she was planning to leave. She wouldn't want to tell him to his face that he was too boring, but ...

"Never think that, my dear chap," Chumley said, patting his knee. "Nothing is impossible, when love comes into the picture."

"Not to mention wishes," grinned Uncle Alfred. "And now, it's late, and I come a long way today. Bed's sounding mighty tempting. We can finish the interrogation in the morning, can't we?"

"It's not an interrogation!" protested the Professor automatically. "Sorry, I was just ..."

The others stood up. "Best you do your thinking on your own," advised Uncle Alfred, "We'll head on up to bed."

"Yes, you'll have to work at marshalling your arguments if you expect to win Phoebe's hand." Chumley agreed. "Good night."

The Professor watched as they left, then downed the last sip of brandy before sitting on the couch to list all the reasons he should forget about Phoebe Figalilly as anything other than a wonderful nanny ...

Some hours later, he was STILL sitting there. Then a noise penetrated his mind, and he realized that someone had gone into the kitchen. Getting up and stretching, the Professor walked into the kitchen, and discovered Nanny, her dressing gown tied securely over her flannel nightgown, heating milk in a pan on the stove. Without turning around, she said, "I've put in enough milk for you, too, Professor. Warm milk is supposed to help one to sleep."

"Would it be possible to ...?" he stepped up to the stove behind her.

"Skip the milk in favour of the brandy? I think not," her voice was gently teasing, "but you are most welcome to add it to your milk. Why, my Aunt ..." still chattering inconsequentially, she tried to keep things light.

Knowing he would have to act now, if ever, at last he chuckled, "Will you be quiet, Phoebe?" and he turned her toward him to silence her with a kiss. The touch of his lips on hers was gentle, very different from her dream kisses.

"I love you, Phoebe," he said. Watching her lips curve in response to those words, he drew a shaky breath. "Will you marry me?"

"Marry you?" Her eyes suddenly filled with pain, confusion, and a hint of panic. "No. I ... no. Oh, what have I done?" She thrust him away from her and hugged herself miserably. "I'm sorry. I must go."

Even as he was hoping fervently she meant just for the night and not permanently, she pushed past him and fled, leaving him alone with his tight throat, his pensive thoughts, and his aching heart. The smell of scorching milk brought him out of his reverie. Dumping the mess down the sink, turning off the stove and filling the pan with water, he went up to bed, determined to change her mind. Somehow, he would change her mind. He had to. And, after speaking with her Uncle Alfred and Chumley, he knew he had her family's support. It would just take time, and he had all the time in the world at his disposal ... at least as much time as he had before he expired of frustration!