“A mystery?” Simon asked. “What is so mysterious about me now…?”
Harriet wondered whether she should hold back on her thoughts — out of respect. But then, decided against it.
“How do you manage to be caring and rude at the same time?” she asked, albeit carefully.
Simon chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “A skill I’ve perfected over time, I suppose. It helps to keep matters interesting, does it not?”
Harriet huffed, unable to suppress a small smile despite herself.
“Thank you for understanding me about the nursemaid. I shall go see what Catherine is doing now.”
She turned to leave, shutting the door with a bit more force than necessary. It was a fine line they walked, this strange partnership, but Harriet felt a growing sense of hope that they might yet find a way to make it work.
She could not get Simon out of her mind after their little interaction.
Which, perhaps was something she should come to accept now. It happened every time that they spoke — argument or not.
Today felt… different, though.
It was surprising how much his understanding had meant to her, especially given their rocky start. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a shift in their interactions — a sense of shared responsibility that hadn’t been there before.
She entered the nursery, where Catherine lay in her crib, cooing softly, her tiny fingers reaching for the fabric of her blanket. Harriet watched her for a moment, feeling a tug of affection that was becoming more familiar each day.
“Is it really so difficult to find you a nursemaid?” Harriet wondered out loud, “Or is it because I do not want anyone else to share the responsibility of looking after you?”
The realization itself felt quite poignant. It meant that Harriet did care for this baby — who until only a few days ago had been a troublesome burden.
Catherine had managed to grow on her. It was like her little hand has closed itself around her heart, forming a fist that was holding on tightly.
What was going to happen when they found out who the real parents were? Would she be taken away?
Harriet found herself once again teeming with nervousness at the thought. Without saying another word, she exited the nursery and made her way over to Simon’s study again.
This time, when she entered, she did not knock. But Simon did not look too surprised to see her either.
“All is well?” he asked, a note of hesitance in his voice.
Harriet shook her head, and took a seat in the empty chair beside her. “Of course not.”
Simon leaned back in this chair, as though he was a doctor overseeing his patient.
“Tell me what bothers you this time,” his tone was teasing at the surface, but she hoped that he had some genuine concern buried deep beneath it as well.
“It is about Catherine, again.”
“Of course,” he leaned forward slightly.
“I…” Harriet knotted her fingers together till they were a contorted mess, and bit down her lip till it was about to bruise.
“Harriet?” Simon asked, growing worried now.
“Have you made any progress with the search?” she blurted out all at once. “You know — the search for her true parents.”
“So you finally believe that the baby is not mine?”
“Simon, please,” Harriet pleaded. “Can you just tell me what I have asked of you?”
She thought about the prospect of having to give up Catherine again, and her heart began to pound as though she had just climbed up a very steep hill.
