Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“ M ary, you almost had it!” Harriet cheered as one of the maids narrowly missed a hoop in a ring toss game.

“Oh, my apologies, Your Grace. Not all of us are as skilled as you are,” the maid gushed.

Harriet was in her garden, playing a game with her housemaids. It was something that she had started on a whim — only to pass the time, as she did not have her husband to spend time with. But over the last few months, it had become something of a routine.

Whenever she found the time, Harriet would engage in some form of play with the women house staff. It helped curbed her loneliness, lest it arrived, and helped the staff grow comfortable with her as well.

It was also why she had taken it upon herself to hire several new housemaids — all young women like herself. When she had arrived at the estate, she could count the number of staff on two hands. But now, the number far exceeded it, and it was like Harriet had her own little community of helpers in name, but friends in actuality.

“Shall we try that again?” Mary asked, her bright eyes widening.

Harriet grinned, turning to the head housemaid. “We shall let Mrs. Alridge be the judge of that. What do you say, Mrs. Alridge?”

Mrs. Alridge, who was a graceful woman in her fifties, took her job quite seriously. It was her exemplary discipline, and grace that had allowed her to rise through the ranks to the position of head housemaid. She nodded, curtly. “I believe the young woman deserves another chance, Your Grace.”

“Well then, the judge has spoken,” Harriet nodded. Since Mrs. Alridge was a bit too old to participate in the games, Harriet included her by appointing her as the judge.

Mary braced herself, and tried one more time. Everyone had her eyes on her, but she missed — causing a collective sigh of dismay to erupt from the group of maids.

Mrs. Arlidge nodded. “Now, now, Miss Mary, you’ll get it next time. Keep that arm steady!”

Harriet stood back, and took in the sight. It was not the family that she had expected to have — far from it.

She was different from her sisters in that she never daydreamed about having a husband, and a houseful of children. But somehow, she thought that the option would be available to her, should she ever change her mind in the future.

Now it seemed like that possibility had been closed off forever. She was married, but there was no husband in sight.

And of course, no children. She did not even know if the duke even wanted an heir — she had never gotten the opportunity to get to know him in that manner.

So, even if it was not a dream for her like it was for her sisters, or other girls her age, it was a dream that could never be fulfilled.

At the estate, the maids were the closest thing that she had to a family.

She had managed to get the freedom she had always wanted. But in entirely different circumstances than she could have ever imagined.

Simon had kept true to his promise. The last time that Harriet had seen him was on the day of their wedding. He did not write to her, nor did she know anything about his life. She had figured out where he was residing — one of his family’s chalet’s in the north — but what his day-to-day looked like, she did not know.

It was strange, indeed. But it was a reality that she had come to accept.

After all, she was happy at the estate. She followed her own schedule, did whatever her heart pleased, and did not need to keep anyone happy.

That was the argument that she proposed to herself when sometimes, late in the night, a feeling of loneliness crept up inside her.

You have a lot to be grateful for. No need to be dismayed.

Her family did not know the truth about her marriage. She had done a great job at pretending. By now, she had run out of just how many lies she had told on behalf of Simon. Whenever her sisters, or her parents visited, Harriet had a fresh, new excuse as to why her husband was not present.

‘Oh, you know, His Grace is a very busy man. He is expanding his business overseas, and it has him gone for many weeks at a time.’

‘Oh, he has asked me to come with him, many times. He claims that he cannot bear to be without me. I always refuse, however. I believe I have a duty to my home, as the duchess.’

‘He was here just yesterday. You just missed him. Such a shame; it would be incredible for you to meet.’

Surprisingly, her excuses had worked so far and her family was none the wiser. As long as they were kept unaware, her situation remained uncomplicated.

After all, it would be difficult for her to explain to her family that her husband had left on the night of their wedding, never to be seen again. Of course, she could draw a certain level of satisfaction from being proven right in front of her parents, that truly this marriage was done in haste. But the slew of questions that would follow that admission was something she did not look forward to.

Besides, it had been nine months. Harriet had found her place at the estate.

“Your Grace!”

The game came to an abrupt end when one of the younger maids came running from the house. Her hair was strewn across her pale face, and she seemed entirely out of breath.

Harriet got up from her place of rest immediately, “What is it, Eliza?” she inquired, concern knitting her eyebrows.

Eliza heaved a few deep sighs to catch her breath. It looked like she had run all the way here to deliver the message.

“May I…. may I speak to you in private?”

Harriet nodded, and took the maid to the side. Curiosity was burning inside of her.

“Tell me what it is now,” she demanded, tapping one of her feet impatiently.

Eliza lowered her voice down to a whisper, “There’s a baby, Your Grace. A baby girl at the doorstep! And a note! You must come quickly!”

Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. “A baby?”

“Yes, yes, Your Grace. It is quite…” she struggled to find the right words, “well, it is a small one. I suspect it is around a year old, at most.”

Harriet could not hide the shock from her face, even if she tried. The head maid took notice of this sudden shift of demeanor and made her way over to the two ladies.

“Is everything alright, Your Grace?” she asked, looking between the two women.

Harriet pressed her fingernails into her closed palm. “Eliza is saying that there is a baby at the door.” Even saying the words out loud felt surreal to Harriet.

Mrs. Alridge’s mouth hung open but she quickly concealed her shock.

“If that is the case then we should go to see to it immediately,” she nodded.

Harriet let the older woman lead, and followed her all the way, her heartbeat increasing with every step that she took.

And then, there it was.

A small baby, swaddled in fabric inside a basket. Its small arm was raised, and within its small fingers, it held what looked like a note.

Harriet’s face flushed with a mixture of emotion — astonishment, concern and then a rising anger.

“Who would possibly leave a baby here?” Mrs. Alridge wondered out loud, peering into the basket.

“Truly, who could it be?”

Harriet exchanged a worried glance with Mrs. Alridge. Both of them appeared to be stumped entirely.

“Do you know if any of the male staff have fathered children?” Harriet asked. It was an unlikely thing to happen, of course. As, even if they did, they would not parcel it over to their estate. But she was only thinking out loud.

“Your Grace, no one would risk their job by pulling off such a stunt,” Mrs. Alridge noted.

Before they could speculate further, the baby began to cry.

“Oh heavens. How do we make her stop?” Harriet asked, worried.

“You could hold her,” Mrs. Alridge nodded.

Harriet’s confusion quickly gave way to a sense of panic. She’d barely had any experience with babies before, and the idea of caring for such a fragile being was daunting. She reached out tentatively, her hands hovering uncertainly over the baby.

“Oh, I’m not sure about this,” Harriet murmured, her voice tinged with nervousness. “What if I drop her?”

“Here, Your Grace,” Mrs. Alridge said, gently transferring the baby into Harriet’s arms. “Just support her head, like this.”

Harriet’s hands trembled as she cradled the baby, her movements awkward and uncertain. The baby stirred, letting out a soft whimper that sent a jolt of alarm through Harriet.

“Is she alright?” Harriet asked

“She’s fine, Your Grace. Just needs a bit of settling.”

“She’s so small,” Harriet breathed, her anxiety slowly giving way to a reluctant affection. “And... quite wriggly.”

As Harriet attempted to adjust her hold, the baby squirmed in her arms, prompting Harriet to call out for assistance. “Eliza, could you help, please?”

Eliza stepped forward, her own uncertainty evident as she gently adjusted the baby’s position. The three women exchanged nervous glances, each clearly unsure of what to do next.

“What do we do now?” Harriet asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“She likely needs to be fed, Your Grace,” the maid replied.

Harriet nodded, relieved to have a plan, however uncertain it might be. “Yes, yes, let’s do that.”

“Take the baby inside. Prepare some milk and arrange for a crib at the earliest notice.”

Eliza quickly agreed and grabbed the baby to take it inside. Mrs. Alridge put a sympathetic hand on Harriet’s shoulder.

“Your Grace, are you well?”

“I am not quite sure if I am….” Harriet replied, feeling as though her knees were going to give out at any moment.

“Would you like to take a seat?” Mrs Alridge rushed her inside, and then onto a chair. Grabbing a newspaper from nearby, she began fanning the duchess, who looked as though she was hyperventilating.

Harriet kept thinking back to Simon. Who could the baby belong to, if not him? It was certainly not hers. And none of the staff would dare to pull off such a stunt.

The more she thought about the possibility, the angrier she got.

“How could he do this to me?” Harriet spat out, anger blazing in her eyes. “To think — first he leaves his newly wedded wife, and then fathers a child from another woman. What a disgrace.”

Mrs. Alridge had been working for the family for a long time now and was someone that Harriet had grown to trust. She knew that she could air her most honest thoughts in front of her, without fear that they would be converted into gossip fodder for the scandal sheets the next day.

But right now, Mrs. Alridge seemed to be at a loss for words, herself.

“Your Grace… are you certain that this is what has happened?” she asked, cautiously.

“Well, do you have a better explanation for it? It seems like the most likely thing,” Harriet replied, the cool hair from the maid’s makeshift fan hitting her face.

“Perhaps there is something that we are missing here,” Mrs. Alridge nodded. “There was a note in the baby’s hand. I shall fetch it right away; perhaps it has some clue about where it came from.”

Harriet nodded, feeling grateful to have Mrs. Alridge by her side. She was so blinded by her own reaction that she did not even consider consulting the note.

A few moments later, she returned with a small piece of paper in her hands. It was folded into half, and she handed it over to the duchess.

Harriet opened it, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she did.

It said only one thing.

Her name is Catherine. Please, take care of her well.

“This is no use to me now, is it?” Harriet said, crumbling it up in her hands and putting it away. “I am afraid it only adds fuel to what I am already suspecting.”

“Your Grace, all the years that I have known the duke… it is not in his personality to do something like this….”

“Then, perhaps you are mistaken,” Harriet said. “Please make sure that the baby is being taken care of, and that she is fed. I need a moment alone to myself.”

Mrs Alridge nodded, scurrying off quickly. Harriet watched her go, her mind spinning with rage and betrayal.

She couldn't shake the thought that this baby was the result of one of Simon’s indiscretions. How dare he humiliate her in such a manner?

After all he had put her through already — the sheer abandonment. Did he really have to take a paramour as well, to add further insult to injury?

It felt unacceptable. She remembered what the duke had told her on their wedding day, that she should not even think of contacting him unless it was a matter of life and death.

To her, this felt even more serious. She stormed upstairs to her study, and furiously begin to pen him a letter.

She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Simon Wylde, Duke of Atherton, sat in his study, perusing reports from his various estates. They sat in a large pile, though he made sure never to let it grow too excessive.

For the past nine months, he had completely drowned himself in handling the affairs of the estate. Whether it concerned solving grievances amongst his tenants, or making routine visits to the land to boost morale — he was there. On the financial side, he had grown the business even more so.

Things were good, and in a way, moving away from the estate was a largely positive thing for him. But no matter how much he busied himself, a thought remained that perhaps he was shunning the most important responsibility of them all.

That of being a good husband to his wife.

Not this again, he groaned internally.

He had been having this thought more often lately. It had been triggered during one conversation with one of his tenants. It was a man nearing his eightieth birthday, who had said to the duke that no matter how much land he farmed in his lifetime, he felt the most important work he had done was to make sure that his wife was happy.

But it was a thought that he always suppressed. He had fulfilled his duty by providing for Harriet monetarily, and that was all that mattered.

Anyone else’s opinion was useless.

The thought had stuck with the duke, and now he found himself wondering, frustratingly so.

How was Harriet even doing?

Did he even care?

Surely, he had no reason to. She was fed, taken care of and had a staff to tend to her needs. That was what should be important.

But then, a part of him felt conflicted, too. It was why he avoided thinking about the subject altogether. It stirred up some uncomfortable feelings inside of him, for the woman was less than a stranger, no matter what the marriage contract stated.

A stranger that he had gotten himself married to.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. His butler, Jameson, entered, holding a letter. "A message for you, Your Grace. It appears urgent."

Simon took the letter, noting the familiar seal. He broke it open and read quickly, his expression darkening with each word.

Your Grace,

You have crossed all limits. I demand that you return home immediately and explain yourself. I will not tolerate such disgrace. If you do not come at once, I will make sure the entire ton knows about this.

Harriet

Simon’s jaw tightened, and he crumpled the letter in his fist.

Was he reading this correctly?

“She has some nerve speaking to me in this manner,” he muttered to himself. No matter how distraught their personal relationship was, it should never be forgotten that he was a duke and her husband, before all.

This was no way to speak.

“Jameson,” he barked, “arrange a carriage at once. I must return home immediately.”

It appeared that he needed to return home, and teach his wife a lesson.