“I see.” Harriet’s eyes fell on a stack of papers on a table inside the room. “Would you mind if I used some of those papers?”
“Of course not.” The slight crease in Mrs. Morton’s brow told Harriet that the woman had stopped herself asking why.
“I find that when my head is full, the best thing to do is get some of my thoughts on paper.” Harriet explained as she sat at the desk and pulled several sheets towards her. “Drawing helps empty my mind.”
She heard an intake of breath and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe stiffen, her attention focused entirely on Harriet. Harriet forced herself to focus on the paper in front of her, beckoning Lucy towards her as she picked up a pencil.
“Would you remind me of the gardener’s name?” Harriet asked.
“Thank you.” Harriet began to sketch a picture of a wild rose bush with pruning shears beside it.
As she did, she heard the scuffle of footsteps, and when she looked up, Phoebe was peering at her, hands on the table as she leaned across to see what Harriet was doing. Her eyes were wide and bright; Harriet could practically feel the excitement coming off her.
“What are you doing?” Phoebe asked, her voice so quiet it was little more than a whisper, as though it had grown hoarse with disuse.
Harriet kept her excitement and sadness from her face with difficulty, focusing on her sketching instead of Phoebe.It is themost I have heard her say.How long had it been since she had spoken?
“It is a trick I use when I want to remember things.” She pointed to the pot she had just begun to draw. “This is to represent the cook, I believe she is Mrs. Hawthorne?”
Phoebe nodded, moving even closer. Her eyes flitted between Harriet and the pencil and paper, a hungry look in them. Harriet paused, tapping the pencil against her mouth as she tried to think of something to represent one of the maids.
“What do you think I should draw for Emily?” Harriet canted her head towards Phoebe.
“...a mouse?” Phoebe’s cheeks flushed and she gave Harriet a shy smile, eyes going to the floor and then back to Harriet.
“Because she is quiet?” Harriet returned the smile.
Phoebe nodded, her fingers twitching on the table.
“Would you like to help me?” Harriet gently pushed a paper and pencil towards the girl. “It is much more fun with company.”
Phoebe hesitated, but even as she did, Harriet could see her fingers creeping towards the pencil. She began to sketch a mouse, and said, “What reminds you of Bramley – the first footman?”
Phoebe pursed her lips and began to draw something long and spindly. Her strokes were nervous at first, but as Harriet watched, the nervous expression left the girl’s face, replaced by a quiet focus.
She puzzled at the drawing for a moment before she realized that Phoebe was drawing a silver birch tree. Harriet’s smile broadened. “Is that because he has silver hair?”
Phoebe nodded, not looking up from her paper. As they continued to sketch together, Harriet found she stopped having to prompt the girl. Her eyes sparkled and she started drawing things and holding them up to Harriet, getting her to guess who the drawing was supposed to represent.
Harriet’s heart swelled impossible as Phoebe grew steadily more excited.When was the last time she just did something for the joy of it?Phoebe let out a giggle when Harriet drew a hedgehog to represent the butler, and something clicked inside of her.
She looked out the window and saw Phoebe follow her gaze. “Have you ever played touch?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“It is rather simple.” Harriet stood up and dusted off her dress. “One of us starts as the chaser, and her job is to touch one of the others. She will count to ten and close her eyes, and we will hide, when she finds us, we run and if she catches us then we become the chaser and will repeat the game again. It is great fun.”
“Your Grace, Lady Phoebe has not yet finished her reading. His Grace will not be pleased if her studies are disrupted.”
“Let me worry about the Duke.” Harriet shook out her shoulders. “Children need more in their life than duty and responsibility. Laughter is just as important as learning. And it is a lovely day outside.”
Mrs. Morton looked unconvinced, though she hid it well. Harriet sighed. “If the Duke takes umbrage with this, I shall bear the full responsibility. Now, let us go outside. Come on, Phoebe.”
Without thinking Harriet held her hand out to Phoebe who took it. The child’s hand was slightly clammy in the way that children’s hands often are, but Harriet did not mind. She beamed at Phoebe and then Lucy who had an equally large grin on her face and they went into the gardens.
Mrs. Morton followed along behind them, and though she did not do anything so untoward as mutter under her breath, Harriet knew that the woman was less than impressed with this turn of events.
She is your first priority.That was what Theodore had told her, and that is what she would do. He was the one who had told her that he needed someone to care for Phoebe.
