Two days had passed since Annabelleâs departure from Pendlebury and already Harriet was feeling her departure, her mother had always instilled a sense of calm within her, her words were comforting and her actions peaceful and without her Harriet struggled to keep her emotions at bay. The Queen was anxious, fretful and sorrowful all at once, and yet happier, humorous and even sometimes peaceful, her emotions changed hourly, such a fluctuation caused not only by the death of her precious child, but also her heightened hormones which stirred with child growing in her womb. She was anxious about everything and nothing at all, it was true over the past weeks Harriet had become extremely protective over Cecily, perhaps even overbearing and she barely let the child leave her side and insisted on everything which surrounded the little Princess being cleaned daily. Sometimes she thought herself to be mad, but then every time she closed her eyes, Lizzieâs ashen face came to the forefront of her mind, haunting her. No, she would not let her negligence be the cause of another of her childâs death, for Cecilyâs sake and her own, for she could surely not survive losing her other daughter also.
Harrietâs days at Pendlebury had been relatively uneventful; she had done what she could to keep busy, entertaining Cecily, walking around the gardens, taking to Lady Poole, anything she could do to keep her mind from wondering too much to Lizzie and Charles. She missed them dearly, missed them both and yet some of her pain was by her down doing, her own stubbornness ruling her head, instead of following her heart. It was proving to be a very difficult situation to deal with. She wished her mother was here and not travelling north, naturally the thought only added to her guilt, Harriet had been the one to encourage her to go and now in hindsight that probably wasnât the wisest of ideas. It wasnât that her worries over Eleanor had ceased, on the contrary her sister weighed on her mind quite heavily over the past days and a part of her felt happy that Annabelle was well on her way to being with her daughter, however she also worried about Jamesâ reaction to her mother arrival. Would he take her prisoner? If he did would her father mount an attack to get her back? So many thoughts and concerns played on her mind, but the only thing she could truly do was wait and find out news.
âGood mother, look what I found!â The little princess gushed quickly as Harriet pulled back from her daughter, it was only then did she notice the small kitten nestled in her daughters arms, how had she not seen the cat upon Cecilyâs entrance? Never the less, Harriet smiled and gently ran her hand across the kittens back, smiling as it purred under her touch. âWhere did you find her darling?â she enquired, âin the kitchens, the cooks cat had kittens! Can I keep her mama? Please!â Cecily begged, cuddling the kitten to her cheek. Harriet was hesitant, her daughters attention span was not the greatest at the best of times, she quickly tired of things, her kitten back in Briar had been a prime example, she had loved the feline for two weeks before she had grown bored, but looking into Cecilyâs eyes Harriet quickly cave. âOh very well, what shall you name her?â Cecily paused for a moment, her little mind contemplating the different options, âKitty!â she announced proudly.
Harriet almost laughed, it hadnât been the most inventive name ever imagined, but it was Cecilyâs decision and so she simply smiled, âIt suits her well.â
By the evening Harriet was truly exhausted, Cecily had tired her immensely over the past few days, especially when it came to her tantrums. During the day she seemed relaxed and composed, played and laughed like any other child, but then on a evening she cried and yelled for her father and sometimes even Lizzie and that just about broke her heart, she felt like a failure as a mother, what type of mother would take a child away from their father when they too were grieving? She felt utterly awful. Harriet knew for certain this Charles must be taking this as a betrayal, she was certain he must hate her, but she couldnât exactly blame him for doing so, she had been horrid to him over the past weeks, shunned him, belittled himâŠhated him, she had wanted nothing more than to just hurt him, as he had done to her, but now Harriet was beginning to fear that she had possibly gone too far. It was a thought that had been on her mind for days, scaring her beyond belief, what if she had pushed him too far away, what if his anger stemmed upon Cecily, what if he began to hate her too; she would hate to think that any man could do such a thing, let alone Charles, but unfortunately history was filled with Kings and commoners alike forsaking their families for a new one. Was that what was to become of Rayleighâs also? Would Charles bastardise Cecily and the child that grew within her and then ship her off to some nunnery to live out her days without her children, only to marry one younger and more beautiful, someone who could easily give Charles what Harriet could not? The truth was Harrietâs life would soon cease to be if she saw Charles love another woman above herself, which would be a fate worse than death.
Harriet was not sure how long she had been asleep for, but suddenly she heard the tones of Bridgetteâs frantic voice pulling her away from the sand man. She perhaps would have been mad if her ladies maid tone had not been so worrisome, âLady Poole, what is it? Is it Cecily?â Harriet asked her voice hoarse for a moment as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. âNo My lady, it is his majesty! He is downstairs calling for you!â
âC-Charles is here?â Harriet repeated, every sense in her body suddenly becoming alerted, she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at Bridgette with wide and petrified eyes. What had brought him so far South? Had he come to take Cecily away from her for good? The thought terrified her. âBring Cecily to me immediately and then go and tell his majesty that I shall not receive him at such an hour.â If Bridgette had any reservations about the tasks Harriet had bestowed onto her, she did not show them; then again she had always been faithful to her mistress. With a quick nod, the lady rose to her feet and hurried towards the door, just as she was about to open the door Harriet cried out to her, âNo! Stop!â She paused throwing bed her bed covers with haste, âI shall go and greet the King, you go to Cecily and stay with her until I relieve you.â As she spoke, Harriet grabbed her shall and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Stepping out into the corridor Harriet waited and watched as Bridgette hurried in the opposite direction, towards her daughterâs room. Hearing the click of the door, Harriet did what she could to compose herself before starting down the corridor. Pendlebury was by no means as large as Whinnfel Palace was in Briar, but the labyrinth of corridors was still enough to delay Harrietâs meeting Charles by a few moments. Eventually she reached the top of the stairs and looking down she could see her husband, stood by the door, his dishevelled appearance gave her the impression that he had ridden with some haste. It was also in this moment did Harriet realise that she had not seen Charles in weeks and it was only now was she realising how she had missed him. With one hand resting lightly upon the banister and the other lightly placing upon her protruding stomach, she began her decent before stopping midway. âCharlesâ she began her voice barely more than a whisper, âwhy are you here?â Harriet asked almost frightful of the answer.