beside the three little girls who had been finishing their tea before her arrival. They began plying her with questions: where was her baby’s father? Was it pretty where she lived? Had she any older children? Finally, they asked her if she would like to see them dance.
‘Not one of them knows the meaning of shyness,’ Nanny said, then insisted they tidied their books and toys away before going down to the drawing room where the pianoforte was. ‘Their parents have quite different rules from the ones you children had when you were little. They like to see them running all over the house, hearing them laughing and singing and such. Running wild, I call it, but I have to say, they are never impolite, and they do what is told them.’
Constance, the eldest girl, came to stand beside Harriet. ‘Would you like to come downstairs now? I can’t dance for you as I will have to play Mama’s pianoforte since she isn’t here to play for us. I don’t play as well as she does but I learned to play a jolly Irish jig. Some of the boys and the smaller ones aren’t very good dancers, but Papa says we will all be splendid performers when we grow up. The pianoforte is in the drawing room so we have to go downstairs.’
‘I would love to watch you!’ Harriet replied. ‘That is, if Nanny says it is permitted.’
The elderly nanny returned her smile. ‘I’ll be happy to have a few minutes’ peace and quiet before bedtime!’ she said. ‘I’ll just sit quiet here with the little one.’
Harriet looked down at the sleeping baby, thinking how he had been transformed from a pale, wizened, wailing scrap of humanity into this angelic-looking infant now cradled in the old woman’s arms. As she stood there, the children waiting patiently for her by the nursery door, the baby opened his large blue eyes and, so it seemed to Harriet, focussed upon her. Seeing the expression on Harriet’s face, Nanny said gently, ‘Do you want to hold him awhile, Miss Harriet? Seeing the way you used to be with your dolls, I don’t wonder you love this little one: you was born to be a mother. Miss Una – I mean, Her Ladyship – and I have wondered from time to time why you haven’t had babies before and …’
Seeing the look of distress on Harriet’s face, she quickly changed the subject, telling the waiting children not to make their parents’ drawing room untidy, and not to stay for more than half an hour as it would soon be the youngest two children’s bedtime.
The next half hour was one of unbelievable happiness for Harriet. Although not very practised, the older children performed the dance remarkably well, and very sweetly offered to teach her the steps next day if she wished. The younger two cuddled up to her, putting their arms round her shoulders and telling her how pretty she was, and vying with one another to think of a name for her baby. The eldest of the boys informed her that all of them had the letter ‘C’ to start their names. Nanny had told them he was a cousin, which made him a part of the family, so could she give her baby a boy’s name also beginning with ‘C’.
How, Harriet wondered, was she going to confess that the baby was not hers: not their cousin, and almost certainly must be going to an orphanage? Would she ever be able to find the courage to do so?
Must
she do so?
The children were still discussing possible names for the baby as they made their way up the wide staircase to the nursery quarters at the top of the house. They were now adding to Harriet’s discomfort by begging her to invite them all to the baby’s christening. They had never yet been to England, they informed her, and their papa had promised them they would go there soon. Mama, too, had often talked about her family in England.
When finally they had all bidden her goodnight and disappeared off to bed with the nursery maid, Harriet found herself alone in the nursery whilst Nanny was downstairs discussing supper with the cook. The baby was
‘Not one of them knows the meaning of shyness,’ Nanny said, then insisted they tidied their books and toys away before going down to the drawing room where the pianoforte was. ‘Their parents have quite different rules from the ones you children had when you were little. They like to see them running all over the house, hearing them laughing and singing and such. Running wild, I call it, but I have to say, they are never impolite, and they do what is told them.’
Constance, the eldest girl, came to stand beside Harriet. ‘Would you like to come downstairs now? I can’t dance for you as I will have to play Mama’s pianoforte since she isn’t here to play for us. I don’t play as well as she does but I learned to play a jolly Irish jig. Some of the boys and the smaller ones aren’t very good dancers, but Papa says we will all be splendid performers when we grow up. The pianoforte is in the drawing room so we have to go downstairs.’
‘I would love to watch you!’ Harriet replied. ‘That is, if Nanny says it is permitted.’
The elderly nanny returned her smile. ‘I’ll be happy to have a few minutes’ peace and quiet before bedtime!’ she said. ‘I’ll just sit quiet here with the little one.’
Harriet looked down at the sleeping baby, thinking how he had been transformed from a pale, wizened, wailing scrap of humanity into this angelic-looking infant now cradled in the old woman’s arms. As she stood there, the children waiting patiently for her by the nursery door, the baby opened his large blue eyes and, so it seemed to Harriet, focussed upon her. Seeing the expression on Harriet’s face, Nanny said gently, ‘Do you want to hold him awhile, Miss Harriet? Seeing the way you used to be with your dolls, I don’t wonder you love this little one: you was born to be a mother. Miss Una – I mean, Her Ladyship – and I have wondered from time to time why you haven’t had babies before and …’
Seeing the look of distress on Harriet’s face, she quickly changed the subject, telling the waiting children not to make their parents’ drawing room untidy, and not to stay for more than half an hour as it would soon be the youngest two children’s bedtime.
The next half hour was one of unbelievable happiness for Harriet. Although not very practised, the older children performed the dance remarkably well, and very sweetly offered to teach her the steps next day if she wished. The younger two cuddled up to her, putting their arms round her shoulders and telling her how pretty she was, and vying with one another to think of a name for her baby. The eldest of the boys informed her that all of them had the letter ‘C’ to start their names. Nanny had told them he was a cousin, which made him a part of the family, so could she give her baby a boy’s name also beginning with ‘C’.
How, Harriet wondered, was she going to confess that the baby was not hers: not their cousin, and almost certainly must be going to an orphanage? Would she ever be able to find the courage to do so?
Must
she do so?
The children were still discussing possible names for the baby as they made their way up the wide staircase to the nursery quarters at the top of the house. They were now adding to Harriet’s discomfort by begging her to invite them all to the baby’s christening. They had never yet been to England, they informed her, and their papa had promised them they would go there soon. Mama, too, had often talked about her family in England.
When finally they had all bidden her goodnight and disappeared off to bed with the nursery maid, Harriet found herself alone in the nursery whilst Nanny was downstairs discussing supper with the cook. The baby was
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