Harriet looked away, her gaze shifting to the window as she tried to compose herself. She didn’t want to cry in front of her, didn’t want to show just how deeply Simon’s absence had affected her. But the tears threatened to spill over, and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Once more, Agnes remained quiet, allowing Harriet the space to gather her thoughts. It was a kindness Harriet hadn’t expected,and it made her feel even more at ease in the nursemaid’s presence.
“I don’t understand why he left,” Harriet said after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said it was to give me the freedom I wanted, but I didn’t ask for this kind of freedom. I didn’t ask to be left alone.”
Her expression softened with empathy. “Perhaps he didn’t know how else to give you what he thought you needed.”
Harriet considered this, her mind racing with the possibilities. “Maybe,” she murmured, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I felt abandoned. And I hated him for it.”
She hadn’t meant to say that last part, hadn’t meant to let that raw emotion slip out, but once it was spoken, she couldn’t take it back. The anger, the resentment she had bottled up for so long, had finally found a voice.
Agnes didn’t flinch at the harshness of Harriet’s words. Instead, she nodded slowly, as if understanding exactly where Harriet was coming from.
“It’s only natural to feel that way, Your Grace. You were left to navigate a difficult situation on your own, and that can lead to feelings of anger and betrayal.”
Harriet appreciated her candour, but there was still so much she didn’t understand — so much that Simon had left unsaid.
“He told me that he never wanted this marriage,” Harriet confessed, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. “He said he only married me out of duty, that he had no intention of actually being my husband.”
The memory of Simon’s confession from the other day made Harriet’s heart ache. She had always known it, of course, but hearing it was adding further injury.
Agnes’s eyes widened slightly at Harriet’s revelation, but she quickly masked her surprise. “That must have been difficult to hear.”
“It was,” Harriet admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
Agnes looked at Harriet with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Perhaps he left because he didn’t know how to face his own feelings. Men, especially those in positions of power, often find it difficult to confront emotions they don’t fully understand.”
Harriet thought about this, her mind replaying the conversations she had had with Simon since his return. He had been distant, yes, but there had been moments — brief, fleeting moments — when she had glimpsed something deeper, something more vulnerable beneath his composed exterior.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Harriet said, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Part of me wants to confront him, to demand answers. But another part of me is afraid of what I might hear.”
Agnes nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable to feel that way. But perhaps the answers you seek will only come if you’re willing to ask the difficult questions.”
Harriet sighed, feeling the weight of her words. She knew the nursemaid was right — if she wanted to understand Simon, she would have to confront him, to push past the walls he had built around himself.
As Harriet wrestled with these thoughts, a faint noise from outside the door caught her attention.
She tensed, her eyes narrowing as she turned toward the sound. For a moment, she thought she had heard someone outside, perhaps listening in on their conversation.
“Did you hear that?” Harriet asked, immediately alert.
Agnes glanced toward the door, her expression curious but unconcerned. “I didn’t hear anything, Your Grace.”
Harriet frowned, her unease growing. She rose from her seat and moved toward the door, opening it slightly to peer into the hallway. But there was no one there, only the quiet stillness of the house.
Perhaps I have started to hear things.
She closed the door, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. Perhaps it was nothing — just the creaking of the old manor, or the wind rustling through the corridors.
Harriet returned to her seat, her mind still troubled by the possibility that someone might have overheard their conversation.
Looking at Agnes, she knew that their conversation had to draw to a close now.
“Thank you for listening, Miss Bart,” Harriet said, her voice more steady now. “I didn’t mean to burden you with my troubles, but it helps to talk about it.”
Agnes smiled kindly, her expression full of warmth. “It’s no burden, Your Grace. I’m here to help, in whatever way you need.”
She hadn’t expected to confide in Agnes but now that she had, she felt a sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
