‘Up we go and you shall have a nice hot bath and go straight to bed. Then I want you to have some of Cook’s chicken broth and afterwards, you’re to have a good sleep. I never in my life saw you look so poorly!’
As they walked upstairs, she informed Harriet that Miss Una and Sir Patrick weren’t expected home until the next day, as they were away visiting Sir Patrick’s parents, so Harriet should sleep for as long as she wanted.
‘I’ll see to your baby,’ Nanny added as if there wasn’t any doubt that Harriet would wish her to do so. ‘Goodness me, Miss Harriet, she’s that small she can’t be more than three weeks old! You should be resting after the birth, not travelling. No wonder you’re in such a state!’
Harriet was too exhausted to explain that the baby was not hers and that it was a little boy, not a girl, and that he had been given to her by his mother to take care of. Still less was she able to explain how she had been given no real option but to do so. Now that her old nanny had relieved her temporarily of all responsibility for the baby’s – as well as her own – welfare, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the cleansing bath, and sleep. She would explain everything later, she told herself, and then make up her mind what she must do.
It was tea-time when she awoke from a deep, dreamless refreshing sleep of utter exhaustion. It was a moment or two before she realized that she was not in the narrow iron bedstead at the convent, but in a soft feather bed in Una’s house. A fire was burning brightly in the grate and soft chintz curtains were keeping out the bitter November wind now rattling the panes of glass. For a moment, she was conscious of nothing more than the feeling of comfort and safety which encompassed her. Only then did she remember her arrival. At that moment Siobhan, the nursery maid, came into the room and put a tea tray on her lap.
‘Nanny is in the nursery, madam,’ the girl said as she crossed the room to put some more coal on the fire. ‘She told me to tell you that Violet, Her Ladyship’s maid, will be in presently with some clothes for you, and when you are dressed, will you go up to the nursery where the children are having their tea.’
A quarter of an hour later, Harriet made her way upstairs to where Siobhan had said she would find the nursery. For the first time in months she felt more like her old self. Una’s maid had found drawers and petticoat trimmed with lace and with broderie anglaise insertions. Over them was a lovely emerald green, moiré silk gown which, surprisingly, fitted her perfectly, and the maid had washed and dressed her hair in a fashionable style.
Long before she reached the landing, she heard the shouts and laughter of the children. The noise stopped abruptly as she entered the room. All the little girls curtsied and the boys bowed as Nanny introduced them. The formalities over, they all started to talk at once without shyness but with avid curiosity. Was she really their aunt as Nanny had said? What was her baby called? Why was it so small? The questions poured from them, their small faces alight with curiosity and friendliness.
Answering them as best she could, Harriet crossed the room to where Nanny was sitting, the baby sleeping peacefully on her starched white aproned lap.
‘Don’t look so worried, Miss Harriet,’ she said comfortingly. ‘Your little boy, bless him, is going to be just fine. He’s keeping his food down and hasn’t cried once.’ Smiling, she pointed to one of the little girls. ‘Constance wants to know if you will allow them to keep him. She says we haven’t had a new baby since Colin and she likes babies better than dolls. Cedric wants to know how long you can stay and will the baby grow quicker than Colin who he is still waiting to be old enough to join in the ball games he enjoys. At present he only has Clifford and his sisters to play boys’ games with.’
Harriet sat down at the nursery table
As they walked upstairs, she informed Harriet that Miss Una and Sir Patrick weren’t expected home until the next day, as they were away visiting Sir Patrick’s parents, so Harriet should sleep for as long as she wanted.
‘I’ll see to your baby,’ Nanny added as if there wasn’t any doubt that Harriet would wish her to do so. ‘Goodness me, Miss Harriet, she’s that small she can’t be more than three weeks old! You should be resting after the birth, not travelling. No wonder you’re in such a state!’
Harriet was too exhausted to explain that the baby was not hers and that it was a little boy, not a girl, and that he had been given to her by his mother to take care of. Still less was she able to explain how she had been given no real option but to do so. Now that her old nanny had relieved her temporarily of all responsibility for the baby’s – as well as her own – welfare, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the cleansing bath, and sleep. She would explain everything later, she told herself, and then make up her mind what she must do.
It was tea-time when she awoke from a deep, dreamless refreshing sleep of utter exhaustion. It was a moment or two before she realized that she was not in the narrow iron bedstead at the convent, but in a soft feather bed in Una’s house. A fire was burning brightly in the grate and soft chintz curtains were keeping out the bitter November wind now rattling the panes of glass. For a moment, she was conscious of nothing more than the feeling of comfort and safety which encompassed her. Only then did she remember her arrival. At that moment Siobhan, the nursery maid, came into the room and put a tea tray on her lap.
‘Nanny is in the nursery, madam,’ the girl said as she crossed the room to put some more coal on the fire. ‘She told me to tell you that Violet, Her Ladyship’s maid, will be in presently with some clothes for you, and when you are dressed, will you go up to the nursery where the children are having their tea.’
A quarter of an hour later, Harriet made her way upstairs to where Siobhan had said she would find the nursery. For the first time in months she felt more like her old self. Una’s maid had found drawers and petticoat trimmed with lace and with broderie anglaise insertions. Over them was a lovely emerald green, moiré silk gown which, surprisingly, fitted her perfectly, and the maid had washed and dressed her hair in a fashionable style.
Long before she reached the landing, she heard the shouts and laughter of the children. The noise stopped abruptly as she entered the room. All the little girls curtsied and the boys bowed as Nanny introduced them. The formalities over, they all started to talk at once without shyness but with avid curiosity. Was she really their aunt as Nanny had said? What was her baby called? Why was it so small? The questions poured from them, their small faces alight with curiosity and friendliness.
Answering them as best she could, Harriet crossed the room to where Nanny was sitting, the baby sleeping peacefully on her starched white aproned lap.
‘Don’t look so worried, Miss Harriet,’ she said comfortingly. ‘Your little boy, bless him, is going to be just fine. He’s keeping his food down and hasn’t cried once.’ Smiling, she pointed to one of the little girls. ‘Constance wants to know if you will allow them to keep him. She says we haven’t had a new baby since Colin and she likes babies better than dolls. Cedric wants to know how long you can stay and will the baby grow quicker than Colin who he is still waiting to be old enough to join in the ball games he enjoys. At present he only has Clifford and his sisters to play boys’ games with.’
Harriet sat down at the nursery table
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