“Tea would be lovely.” Mrs. Harley’s faint voice sounded from within the darkened room.
“Do as your mistress asks,” Bridget said. “She requires tea.” And, seeing the uncertainty on the maid’s face, she added, “You’re not to worry. I am here to cheer her spirits.”
This seemed to placate the servant, who nodded and exited the room.
Mrs. Harley sat up. Her eyes were swollen, and her face was red from crying.
“Oh, my dear,” Bridget said, sitting next to her on the settee. “I’m so sorry.”
The woman nodded and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
“As you know, I recently experienced a devastating loss of my own, so I understand your pain. But there is still hope. You must stay positive. I am certain you will soon find yourself with child again.”
Mrs. Harley shook her head. “I shan’t. I can’t…” The rest of her sentence seemed to have been strangled in her throat, and she was unable to continue.
A stab of guilt almost made Bridget abandon her task, but self-preservation propelled her forward. “What do you mean you can’t?” she asked as gently as possible.
“I was never with child.” Mrs. Harley placed a hand on her stomach. “Although, I started to believe I was. The mind can play such wonderful tricks, can it not?” She smiled through her tears as though the memory of her delusion brought her pleasure.
“But Abigail was with child, wasn’t she?” Bridget asked, maintaining the same gentle tone.
Mrs. Harley nodded. “She claimed to have been. She told Mr. Harley that she’d missed her courses—although it did seem rathersoon—only a matter of days. Still, the hope she gave us…” Mrs. Harley shook her head and dabbed her tears.
“So, her child was Mr. Harley’s?”
Mrs. Harley jerked her head up as though she’d just woken from a trance. “No—I—what are you implying?” She feigned ignorance.
“Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Harley. Such practices are not uncommon and quite understandable,” Bridget lied. She had no idea if such practices were common, but they were certainly unknown to her.
“Yes, of course. I forget that you were once—well, before your father’s…” She frowned. “It seems all is lost for both of us. Lady Darby knows I am barren. She will disinherit my husband.” Mrs. Harley twisted her hands. “Oh, she’s a wickedly cruel woman. I think it’s her constant monitoring and harsh criticism of me that has made me sick and unable to keep a babe in my womb.”
“I think you might be right. And that’s why you must begin to heal yourself.” Bridget patted the woman’s hand. “Sitting on this settee all day won’t do you any good. Why don’t you wash your face and come outside? Bijou is due for his walk, and the fresh air will do you good.”
“You’re too kind, but I’m afraid to leave my room. Lady Darby is furious with me. I cannot face her.”
“Then it might please you to know that Lady Darby has shut herself away in her chamber, so you needn’t worry about her. And if we do happen to encounter her, then you will not be forced to face her alone. I shall be by your side.”
“You’re too kind, Miss De Lacey. I don’t deserve it.”
“Nonsense!” Bridget stood up to open the curtains and light flooded the room. Then she walked to Mrs. Harley’s clothing chest. “Why don’t we find you something cheerful to wear?” She opened the chest and pretended to scan the piles of neatly folded dresses, but her eye was fixed upon a red dress that sat amongst a separate pile of clothing. Her heartbeat accelerated as she reached for the garment.
“This one will do nicely,” she said, snatching the dress from thepile. “It’s such a lovely red. You’ll feel much better once you put on something pretty.”
“Oh, not that one,” Mrs. Harley objected. “That one’s missing a button on the sleeve. You took it off the mending pile.”
“Missing a button?” Bridget said, her heart now pounding in earnest. She peered down at the small gold button on the left sleeve. It was identical to the one Nate had shown her.
“Do you know, Mr. Squires found a button lying in the grass that looks just like the one on this dress? He picked it up near the spot where I had my fall and thought it might belong to me. Shall I fetch it?”
Mrs. Harley paled.
“Are you quite well?” Bridget feigned concern.
“I feel rather dizzy all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s better if I rest.”
“If you wish. I’ll just take this dress with me and—”
“No!” Mrs. Harley said.
