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Having seen a few resumes since Peggy started searching for The Perfect Nanny (again), there was nothing of interest until she saw a young woman from England. Perhaps it's nationalst pride, or simple comfort that her accent won't be the only one her daughter ever hears, but immediately Peggy called the young woman up and invited her for an interview in her own clipped, British tone. Sunday afternoon, 2 pm. That meant POSSIBLY the whole family could be home.
Of course, it never works out that way. Daniel was called out on an emergency, so Peggy's had to stay back and ensure this candidate isn't put off. It wouldn't due for one nanny to come to interview while the other nanny is there! So, Victoria will find herself approaching a house in the more residential areas of Brooklyn on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The house is a little bit more than modest — a double level with a three car driveway. There is a swing set in the front yard beneath a large oak tree and a cobble stone walk up to the front door.
Victoria has worn a more conservative dress then she otherwise would have - it is a job interview, after all - wearing a soft blue swing dress with a much longer hem, and a simple silver belt. Miniskirts may be in fashion, but you'd have to be an idiot to wear one to a job interview. Her eyes glance over the house, her analytical eyes going over the driveway, the brickwork, the decorations, the cobblestone path. She's good with patterns and details. She takes a long deep breath to settle herself, checks for dirt and wrinkles, and then primly knocks on the door and patiently waits.
If she's good with details, she might notice a few other things. While the house looks perfectly normal, if a bit large, there are cameras places. The glass on the windows has a slightly strange glint, as if it wasn't normal glass but something stronger than that. The door, while it's been painted to look wooden, is actually an extremely heavy metal security door. There is even a hidden panel beneath the welcome mat. They are all details a less intelligent person would completely miss, but Victoria might well notice them.
At the knock, it's but a minute before the sound of high heels on marble foyer can be heard. Peggy steps up to the door and opens it, a smile immediately decorating her elegant, late 30s, early 40s features. She's a lovely woman, if a bit austere (much like her house) and is wearing an elegantly comfortable green dress of the current style, all straight lines and long sleeves. "Miss Stackpoole? Thank you for coming, sorry to bring you out here in the rain. I do wish this weather would make it's mind up." She mutters with a half grin. Her accent is all British, specifically London with old hints of Surrey in it. "Come in, I've got hot water on." The initial foyer is all expensive marble and elegance, but it soon leads into cream shag carpeting and rounded, low furniture in the modern style.
Victoria enters. Her own accent is more of a Cardiff English then anything else, her family having moved there shortly after she was born. Her eyes continue looking over the house, the details, the lenses. An eyebrow raises, but she says nothing. "Thank you Ms. Carter. I don't mind the rain. Its a good reminder of the world. Besides, it should be sunny enough tomorrow." Though the forecase calls for more rain. She follows after Peggy towards the interior of the house.
Inside, things are just as different. There are a few panels in the walls which, while well hidden, might be just slightly raised enough that Victoria's sharp eyes notice them. There's also a few obvious things on the walls — pictures of news paper articles about Project Rebirth, Daniel's Purple Heart, an old, framed SSR logo that was retired from some wall somewhere, saved from the trash. The house isn't totally quiet about who it's occupants are. But then, SHIELD is also not an underground organization. It's just not one that most people entirely *understand*. "Sunny? Not according to the radio. But you're probably right, just in time for all of us to go back to work." SHe states with a small laugh, motioning the woman to sit. "And, please, call me Peggy."
Her eyes still darting across the panels, Victoria sits down, crosses her legs, and sets her purse in her lap. "Thank you, ma'am. Peggy. Please, feel free to call me Victoria. From the advertisement I saw, this is only a part time position, correct?"
"Victoria, very well." Peggy states with a warm smile, "Ah, yes. We do try to keep it part time. Daniel, my husband, and I both work, though. We stagger our hours as best we can but sometimes there are emergencies and neither of us has family in the area. We try to keep a few people we trust in case of emergencies, but we'd rather her have a familiar face more often than not. Are you strictly only looking for part time?" The woman's clipped words are both curious and perhaps a hint concerned. Her dark eyes have the gaze of someone who can pick a personality apart in less than ten seconds, like it's not just Victoria's face that is being studied, but her entire persona.
Victoria is an intelligent, ambitious woman, though young and inexperienced. She has a keen eye for detail, and perhaps a tad more money then would otherwise be expected for a foreign college student seeking part time work. She's also slightly obsessive compulsive, and a bit of a neat freak. More then that, the player has not discovered yet. "I see." she replies primply, her face thoughtful. "I am primarily looking for part time. I obtained a Master's degree from Queen Elizabeth University, but I could not obtain admittance for a Ph.D. from any of the institutions which granted it on account of…" A pause. "Well, on account of being a woman. I was briefly employed as a calculator…" Someone who performs by-hand calculations. Almost always women with math degrees working for male professors, "But I found I have a head for economics, and am hoping for better things in the colonies, as it were." All true enough. She's leaving something out, but not something she feels germaine to the conversation at hand.
A slight tilt comes to Peggy's head, "…There's something else too. Something you're not mentioning." Peggy has long ago ceased dancing around nicities, for good or for ill. But, before she can press it longer, the kettle's whistle can be heard. She stands smoothly, "Hold that thought." And immediately moves for the kitchen. The sound of high heels on tile, the careful motions of tea being poured in proper steeping fashion.
And then, of course, a trouble maker down from upstairs. Supposed to be working in her room, the little girl for which Victoria may be working is very quietly creeping down the stairs. She comes half way, trying to stay hidden, but her mop of brown hair is a little obvious. She can't be much more than four or five and looks much like Peggy, though her skin may be a shade or two more olive. To be so young, Peggy had to have started having children late in life. She's stares at Victoria for a few moments before asking, "Are you the new Georgie?"
Victoria smiles at the itty-bit. She hasn't had much occasion to babysitting as of late, but did deal with children on sundays in Church, when in the children's room at her Anglican church back in England. Most of the girls did that, at least on occasion. "I'm not a new Georgie yet." she replies. "My name is Victoria - whats your name?" She doesn't comment to Carter as she leaves to get the tea.
Another few, somewhat shy steps down the stairs, more so inching down on her butt than actually walking the stairs. Children really are all little monkeys. She's got a red blanket around her shoulders like some sort of cape. "…Michaela. But my mum calls me Kay and dad calls me Mickey and I like Mickey." Oh, if there was any doubt this child was trouble and outspoken, it's probably gone now. Finally at the bottom of the stairs, she makes her way into the front room, studying Victoria curiously.
Peggy is still mostly in the kitchen, but she's leaning her hip on the door frame now and watching into the front room. Not quite how she planned this interview, but observing the two will probably be as helpful as anything now. So, she doesn't quite intrude.
Complexity sets her purse on the table and then gets down on the floor and squats over a bit with her knees, to lower her height a bit. "Three names, huh? Thats quite a few to remember. And you certainly seem to be quiet when you want to be." She nods towards the cape. "Who are you now? I bet you like pretending. I always liked pretending things with my mum when I was a girl."
As the woman gets closer to the floor, Kay steps closer to her, still holding the ties of that 'cape', though her chin is tucked in a way that says she's probably fighting between being shy and being curious. It's often a fight for her. "…Super Mickey. I left my ears upstairs. I pretend a lot with dad. But he had to go to work." Large, dark eyes look up in her mother's direction, probably giving Peggy's snooping away, but she doesn't care. She just gives the young girl a small nod, quiet permission that she can keep talking to the stranger, "Georgie has to go. She let the crazy man in. He was drunk. But I like him, he gave me a plane and he looks like cousin Tony."
Well, this is what Peggy gets for giving her daughter permission to speak. A plethora of too much information spilling into the room inclusive of the fact that her daughter knows what drunk is.
Victoria is very good with patterns. Supernaturally so, one might say. And she connects the dots quickly. SHIELD. Peggy Carter. Tony. "Howard?" she asks hesitatingly. "Drunk people can be funny sometimes." she admits. "I had an uncle who always would pick me up when I was your age, tell me I looked like my father. But his breath smelled funny, and eventually I'd pull on his nose until he put me down. I can't imagine you like him when he's like that."
That's enough to make Peggy clear her throat and bring the tray of tea out. Despite probably making plenty of money, they don't employ servants. It's just not that kind of house hold. Peggy smirks and reaches out, ruffling her daughter's hair fondly. "Young miss, I think that is plenty enough about Uncle Howard. Go get your ears if you want to play."
Kay gives Victoria one last thoughtful look. "I'll pull on his nose next time." She decides, quite a bit of stubborn declaration in her voice, then she's ripping away like lightning back upstairs, cape fluttering in the running wind. Ah, the energy of kids.
Peggy then gives Victoria a slightly more game smile, a slight chuckle on her lips, "You are… even more intelligent than your file would give you credit. It seems all math in your file, but it's not, is it? She's a handful, if you can't tell already. And how did you know it was Howard?" Peggy is curious about how the woman put it together, her head tilting slightly to the side. She doesn't quite pour the tea yet, she's too interested in what emotional read she can get from the prospect.
Standing back up, Victoria smooths out her dress first. She can't abide wrinkles. "Well…" She points to the various secret compartments. "I noticed those. Research on you as an employer also turned up that you were Director of Shield. Howard Stark was the first such Director and has a nephew named Tony. That would have been a lucky guess, but he said he bought her a plane. Any other set of names and I would have assumed it was a toy, but if you put it all together…" She shrugs. "Seems a bit of an odd cooincidence if it isn't him, doesn't it? But if he was hiding from someone, he's surely blown whatever secrecy he had now. I'm no expert, but I can't imagine there arn't enough people watching your house that he wouldn't be noticed."
A slight smile comes at the smoothing of wrinkles — it was an old habit Peggy had too, early in her career, where she still gave some touch of care about what other people thought. She then leans over, pouring them both out a properly steeped cup of tea. There is milk and sugar on the tray. "For what it's worth, it wasn't some elaborate ruse. We all did genuinely think Howard was dead. And then he stumbled back in here, drunk, yes. And the previous nanny simply let him in the front door. Hence… looking for someone a bit more details AND security minded. And you'd be correct about all of those thoughts. It's nice to see a young lady who has properly done her research."
Complexity moves her purse off of the table and onto the ground - now that the child is gone - and goes to put sugar and milk into her cup, being rather unnecessarily meticulous about it. "I see." she replies neutrally. Its really none of her business if they knew he was dead or not, after all. "I'll be frank. I was not quite sure what to expect, and you may not want me working here. I have a…gift, for patterns. I'll spot details others would miss, that you might not want known. And I do have other businesses on the side. I've been trying to get into the stock market, and the funds from this job would be put towards that, or college, if I can convince one to accept me so I can get my doctorate. I couldn't back in England."
A slight tilt of her head comes as Complexity talks about her gift. This is probably what was missing. Her eyes narrow a bit more, thoughtful, something sparked behind Peggy's gaze. "A gift. Enough that you wish to enter the stock market. I've seen your grades and transcripts, there is no reason you shouldn't have had univeristies falling over themselves to accept you. But, some of this world is still quite backwards." There is a harsh edge of something to Peggy's voice there — Anger? Resentment? Probably both, at the sexism that the woman has faced. "Things are better here. If you decide you do wish to go on for your doctorate, you'd have my full support. I can probably pull a few strings, as well, if people are still bloody idiots and don't see sense about your mind." Another, softer smile comes, "..And why would I not wish someone who has a better sense for details to be watching my daughter? I'd rather have the sharpest eyes I can find in this house hold than a pleasant dullard who will let any number of dangerous people in that door."
"People are -always- bloody idiots. Its the one constant about the world, other then death and taxes." Victoria replies, a touch of bitterness in her voice as well. "Its up to you, however. I won't attempt to disuade you further. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but clearly you'd have found out eventually. What sort of help and time were you, specifically, looking for?"
A slight chuckle about the comment of people being idiots, and Peggy leans over to scoop up her own tea. No sugar, she's learned to take it black over decades of living in the US. She nurses it between her fingertips and gives a half sigh, "Four hours a day, in the very least. Generally in the afternoon. Some weekends, some evenings, if Daniel or I are both called out on long distance work. I understand that is not always going to be doable, but we would call you first before going to any back ups. In truth, the position probably ends up being closer to three quarters time. But the pay is excellent for it and I would do all I could to support your other endeavors."
Victoria thinks it over for a few moments, while stirring her tea and sipping at it gently. "That would work with my schedule. My stock market…endeavors, are not terribly time consuming, research aside. That may change if and when I am admitted to a Ph.D. program, but that is far more likely with a reccomendation from someone of your stature, to be frank."
There is a slightly concerned narrowing of her eyes. "Stock market… Endeavors. We… aren't discussing anything illegal, are we? How… far do your gifts go, Victoria?" Peggy asks firm and flat. She can be a terrifying woman when she wants to be and has probably scared away more than one nanny. This issue seems to worry her more than anything else right now.
Complexity pauses, while sipping at her tea. "No, I've never broken the law as written. Thats…chaotic. Distasteful." She pauses again, and sips at her tea, visibly thinking. After a few moments, she speaks.
"I was sixteen at the time. Onion Futures Act, 1958. I did that, from England, in my last year of grammer school to annoy a boyfriend whose father…" She trails off. "I don't do that sort of thing now. It was stupid. But I understand patterns. All patterns. Its how I realized what your daughter meant about Howard. Its how I know what the weather will be like tomorrow, when they are predicting rain. I don't have any special powers, or anything. I'm just…very good with patterns. And someday, I'd like to be respected for my intellect, not looked down upon for being a woman."
Several heartbeats of silence linger in the room now as Peggy studies the surprising young woman across from her. There'd been something about the application from the start, but now the brunette is even more intrigued. She exhales quietly through her nose, setting her tea down, shoulders straightening just a bit. "I… I cannot say that I will ever know where the future leads, Victoria. While I'm quite good at guesses, I will never presume to have your genius. I can say, as a woman, I know what it is to fight and fight to… to earn what you are worth. To be respected. And, how to eventually win that fight. If you come to work for us — be it personally, or perhaps even for SHIELD some day — I promise I will always support you for the *person* you are."
Nodding her head briskly, Victoria says. "Thank you. That is all I have ever desired. Other then to reduce the chaos in the world, of course." She loathes chaos, in part because she perceives it so much more keenly. "I would accept any position offered to me. For now, it sounds as if you need a nanny, and one who can spot potential dangers headed for your children. I can likely do that better then almost anyone."
While Peggy's constantly looking to enhance SHIELD and an analyst like Victoria would be an insanely good asset, there is a time being a mother comes first. It's the constant fight between family and work. She nods slowly to Victoria, "You… you are right. As tempted as I am to offer you work with SHIELD… I need someone in this house I can trust. Desperately." For just a second, the younger woman can see the crack in Peggy's steel. Her daughter. Her weakness. The love of her life. The one thing she truly fears for. But she covers up that well of emotion a heartbeat later. "Though, I should warn you… if you are not a fan of chaos, well…Five year old girls, especially one like Michaela, are particularly chaotic beings."
Victoria smiles. "I am aware." she says wryly. "But not so much as the world itself. Itty bits are cute. Your daughter painting on the floor with applesauce doesn't keep me up in the night, Peggy. I doubt it does you. Nuclear weapons, wars and famine - this is what keeps me up in the night. Your daughter is not the chaos of which I speak. My gifts make me…sensitive to chaos. I dislike dirt and wrinkles. I prefer to be clean. But children are a gift."
"Itty bits?" Peggy states with a half laugh, never actually having heard that bit od terminology before. It was charming. She bows her head in agreement to the comment of painting with applesauce, though there is still that spark of interest in her gaze as the woman discusses fighting against nuclear weapons, war and famine. "…If this works out and you decide you might wish more money without worry about the stocks, I… may have projects for you in the future. Data analysis. It will pay very well. You can work on it as she sleeps, when there are late nights. But… That is for the future. Do you have any questions for me?"
"I may be amenable to that." Victoria allows. "What do I do if someone actually attacks your house while you are gone?"
A slight smile and Peggy stands, "There is a panic room on each level, built with titanium doors. I'll give you the lay out and the panels where you can access the controls. Michaela has already been practiced in all of them and knows where to run so, if you find yourself panicked, she's a good point to follow. The moment those rooms are activated, Daniel and I are both notified at work, though a SHIELD team should be on site within minutes." Her smile tightens just a moment, looking back to the security door at the front entrance. "It's…only happened once. I can't say it will never happen again. But you are hired not as a body guard, but a nanny."
"I would make a -terrible- body guard." Victoria replies, "So thats a good thing. But I had to ask." She finishes her tea and stands up. "If you would be so kind as to show me the door, I could return when you've had time to think it over and make a final decision, if you decide you want me."
"Of course. I'd also like Daniel to meet you, but there was an emergency. But.. hopefully some evening this week. I look forward to working with you, Miss Stackpoole." Peggy stands smoothly again, leading the way back to the door. She looks a touch more relaxed, that possibly this was a step in the right direction. "I'll tell Kay you said good bye. She'll remember you're here five minutes after you've gone." She admits with a slight chuckle, unlocking the bolts and opening the heavy door. "Be safe out there, yes? And… consider if you actually want to work in a place where… well, we need panic rooms." She admits with a slight chuckle, but it's not really all that funny a joke.
"Hiding from the world doesn't make it safer, Ms. Carter." Victoria replies. "I wanted to do something more with my life then be a calculator. I can't guarantee I'd work for you forever. I wouldn't promise that. But I do plan on changing the world someday. Everyone thinks that means things like becoming president, but they would be wrong. I understand patterns. Someone feeling safe about their children, if it is the -right- person, can potentially be a greater help then an intelligent, ambitious person who thinks the world should do exactly as they say in every little matter." She steps out the door. "Good evening, Peggy." She slings her purse over her shoulder.
Those words are enough to send the often outspoken Peggy Carter quiet for even a few moments. The smile that follows is genuine, appreciative. She bows her head to Victoria, "This.. this much is true. I look forward to working with you then, Victoria Stackpoole. Be safe out there." And Peggy will watch the woman go until she is out of sight, something protective and fierce about her even on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Once Victoria is gone, she shuts and locks the door, quickly returning upstairs now. Spending the rest of the day with Kay seems a wonderful idea to her.
