"Soon everyone will know!" Harriet snorted through her tears. Her face was distorted with fear and misery. No artist ever painted this, Mary thought bitterly. This was not a girl serenely floating in a river, chanting songs, but one very much alive, mad ugly and despair. With a baby, noby would want Harriet. No one would employ her. How would she survive? Mary wanted to hit something, howl at something, break something.
Slowly Harriet brought her sobs under control. She was eager to speak in defence of her lover. "He-he ... he's so sorry. He never wanted this to happen. Yesterday he brought me a little posy of the prettiest flowers." Her eyes softened at the memory of it. "He'd marry me if he could. He's sworn he'll love me forever. But he'd be cut off without a penny. We'd have nowhere to live. He couldn't complete his studies. I can't ask that of him."
The thought of flowers made Mary's blood boiled harder. He gave her a baby and then matched it with a posy? "But Harriet, he's asking it of you. What will you do?"
Harriet's eyes were deep wells. The dim light was gone again, at the thought of loosing Edmond. "I ... don't ... knoo-ooow!"
Following Ophelia, P275-276
Sophia Bennett
ISBN 978-1-84715-810-9
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