Daughter of the Rebellion

Chapter 22

When it was time for Sophia's nap, she didn't want to let go of me. Margaret ordered Amy, one of the servants to take her to the nursery, but when the girl attempted to lift Sophia from my lap, the child wailed and clung fiercely to my neck. I tried to take her to the nursery myself, but both Margaret and Richard's mother refused to let me. At first. After multiple failed attempts to pry Sophia's arms free, as well as several minutes of constant ear-shattering protests, they both gave in and Amy was allowed to lead me and Sophia to the nursery.

It didn't take long after leaving the sitting room, for Sophia to calm down. By the time we reached the nursery, she was half asleep with her head resting on my shoulder. Once inside the room, Amy quietly shut the door and went around pulling the curtains to block out the sunlight. After she finished her task, Amy attempted to take Sophia from me, since she appeared to be asleep, but I shooed her away.

I wasn't in any hurry to get back to socializing with Margaret, and I wasn't convinced that Sophia was so deeply asleep that she wouldn't start screaming if I tried to hand her off so soon. Instead, I sat in the nearby rocking chair, ignoring the surprised look on Amy's face, and battled the overwhelming sadness from thinking of how I would never be able to do this with the baby I lost. Would I ever even be able to hold a child of my own?

When I felt as though enough time had passed, I stood and walked over to the small bed and gently placed the little girl on the feather-soft mattress. Sophia looked peaceful for about three seconds after I pulled my hands away. Realizing what happened, her eyes fluttered open and she started crying sleepily.

"You should sneak out, Miss," Amy whispered. "She'll surely be asleep before you can reach the door."

That might be true, but I couldn't just leave her with that pitiful look of betrayal in her big blue eyes. Ignoring Amy's suggestion, I pulled the chair close to the bed and sat, holding Sophia's small hand. Seeming satisfied, she tightly gripped my hand and allowed her eyes to close once again.

She must be left with strangers often for her to cling so firmly to me so soon. I'd been in this house for over a month, and I still didn't recognize some of the servants. Partially because there were so many of them, but also because I think they didn't always stay very long.

Was there even one constant person in Sophia's life besides her mother? Did her mother ever bother to take care of her? She hadn't seemed even a little inclined to console her daughter or to put her down for a nap herself. I guessed that the surprise that Amy exhibited was because it was so unusual for someone who wasn't a servant to do this sort of thing, and I didn't understand it. Sophia was such a sweet little girl. How could her mother not want to spend every second with her? Didn't she realize how precious her daughter was?

Sophia's grip loosened several times as she allowed herself to rest. Every time I thought she was completely asleep, her little fingers would grip mine again, fighting against losing the contact. Finally, her hand slackened and remained that way. Knowing that she was too far gone to fight any longer, I carefully extracted my hand and stood, watching her for a few moments and hating to leave. I would have loved to tell Amy to go and that I would take care of Sophia, but I knew I shouldn't. I'd probably already made some inexcusable mistake by staying as long as I had. I didn't really care, but there was no real excuse for me to stay now.

Acknowledging Amy with a nod, I quietly made my way out of the nursery, and headed back to the sitting room. It was helpful to finally know my way around the massive house, but I almost regretted the knowledge. Getting lost would have made a nice excuse as to why I took even longer to return.

Sighing, I rounded the corner that led to my destination, but stopped short when I saw Charlotte pulling the doors closed on her way out of the room. She noticed me right away. Leaning an ear to the door, she motioned me over, holding a finger to her lips.