“Yes, yes, Your Grace. It is quite…” she struggled to find the right words, “well, it is a small one. I suspect it is around a year old, at most.”
Harriet could not hide the shock from her face, even if she tried. The head maid took notice of this sudden shift of demeanor and made her way over to the two ladies.
“Is everything alright, Your Grace?” she asked, looking between the two women.
Harriet pressed her fingernails into her closed palm. “Eliza is saying that there is a baby at the door.” Even saying the words out loud felt surreal to Harriet.
Mrs. Alridge’s mouth hung open but she quickly concealed her shock.
“If that is the case then we should go to see to it immediately,” she nodded.
Harriet let the older woman lead, and followed her all the way, her heartbeat increasing with every step that she took.
And then, there it was.
A small baby, swaddled in fabric inside a basket. Its small arm was raised, and within its small fingers, it held what looked like a note.
Harriet’s face flushed with a mixture of emotion — astonishment, concern and then a rising anger.
“Who would possibly leave a baby here?” Mrs. Alridge wondered out loud, peering into the basket.
“Truly, who could it be?”
Harriet exchanged a worried glance with Mrs. Alridge. Both of them appeared to be stumped entirely.
“Do you know if any of the male staff have fathered children?” Harriet asked. It was an unlikely thing to happen, of course. As, even if they did, they would not parcel it over to their estate. But she was only thinking out loud.
“Your Grace, no one would risk their job by pulling off such a stunt,” Mrs. Alridge noted.
Before they could speculate further, the baby began to cry.
“Oh heavens. How do we make her stop?” Harriet asked, worried.
“You could hold her,” Mrs. Alridge nodded.
Harriet’s confusion quickly gave way to a sense of panic. She’d barely had any experience with babies before, and the idea of caring for such a fragile being was daunting. She reached out tentatively, her hands hovering uncertainly over the baby.
“Oh, I’m not sure about this,” Harriet murmured, her voice tinged with nervousness. “What if I drop her?”
“Here, Your Grace,” Mrs. Alridge said, gently transferring the baby into Harriet’s arms. “Just support her head, like this.”
Harriet’s hands trembled as she cradled the baby, her movements awkward and uncertain. The baby stirred, letting out a soft whimper that sent a jolt of alarm through Harriet.
“Is she alright?” Harriet asked
“She’s fine, Your Grace. Just needs a bit of settling.”
“She’s so small,” Harriet breathed, her anxiety slowly giving way to a reluctant affection. “And... quite wriggly.”
As Harriet attempted to adjust her hold, the baby squirmed in her arms, prompting Harriet to call out for assistance. “Eliza, could you help, please?”
Eliza stepped forward, her own uncertainty evident as she gently adjusted the baby’s position. The three women exchanged nervous glances, each clearly unsure of what to do next.
“What do we do now?” Harriet asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“She likely needs to be fed, Your Grace,” the maid replied.
Harriet nodded, relieved to have a plan, however uncertain it might be. “Yes, yes, let’s do that.”
