“Miss Bart,” Harriet began, her voice tinged with uncertainty, “there is one important question I must ask you before we are to proceed with any formalities.”
“Please do, Your Grace.”
“When I told you that…” Harriet clicked her tongue, “that the baby was already a few months old, yet you know that my marriage had happened a year ago. What did you think then?”
Agnes looked taken aback by the question, but still proceeded to answer it with grace.
“It is none of my concern, Your Grace. That is a private matter between you and your husband. My responsibilities are only limited to the care of Catherine.”
Harriet nodded, feeling encouraged to share more.
“Well, Agnes — may I call you that?”
“Please, Your Grace. I quite prefer it to Miss Bart.”
“Very well. Agnes… there is something you should know. Something that I haven’t shared with many people.”
Agnes’s expression remained calm, her eyes encouraging Harriet to continue. “Whatever it is, Your Grace, you can trust me.”
Harriet took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal. “Cathy… Cathy is not my child.”
Once again, her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself, nodding for Harriet to continue.
“She was left on our doorstep, and I’ve been caring for her ever since,” Harriet explained. “But she is not mine by birth. My husband and I… we don’t have any children of our own.”
The nursemaid absorbed this information with a thoughtful expression, her gaze never leaving Harriet’s face. “That must have been a difficult decision to make, taking in a child who is not your own.”
“It was,” Harriet admitted. “But I couldn’t turn her away. She needed someone to care for her, and… well, I suppose I needed her, too.”
Agnes nodded slowly, her understanding evident. “It sounds as though you’ve grown quite attached to her.”
“I have. She’s become such an important part of my life… but in many ways, I feel so uncertain.”
Harriet surprised herself at her own admission. She had not intended to bare her heart to someone who she had only just met — but something about Agnes made it easy to.
“From what I can see, Your Grace, you have done a tremendous job. Not many would do the same as you have.”
Harriet felt a pang of gratitude at the nursemaid’s words. As much as she tried to be strong, to maintain her composure, there was a part of her that longed for the support and companionship that she had lost when Simon had distanced himself from her.
“I…”
Harriet hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to handle whatever life threw her way. But now, standing here with Agnes, she felt a vulnerability she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge.
“I… I always valued my freedom,” Harriet said again slowly, choosing her words carefully. “But I never expected to feel so… alone.”
Agnes remained silent — which Harriet appreciated.
“Simon and I were married out of necessity, not love,” Harriet continued, her voice growing steadier as she spoke. “As a consequence, our marriage was one predated on distance. He lived away from me.”
Something in Agnes’s expression shifted. But it was not pity — it was more of an accepting warmth.
“But even so, I never imagined he would abandon me so completely. I wanted to make this marriage work, even if it wasn’t what either of us had planned. But when he left…..”
“You felt as though you had lost any chance of that?” Agnes completed the sentence.
“Yes.”
Harriet had never voiced these feelings before, had never allowed herself to fully confront the depth of her hurt and frustration. But now, with Agnes listening patiently, she felt a sense of relief in finally speaking the truth.
