Free The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow by Susan Martins Miller

hand to turn the knob on the day nursery door. Every time she did this, five times a day, her stomach tightened as she imagined what she might find on the other side. Had Sarah bathed Henry? Had she made sure he had a good nap? Was his diaper dry?
    Charlotte crossed the nursery with firm steps and set the tray on the small round table draped almost to the floor with a pink-and-green-checked cloth and topped by a simple white linen square that could be changed daily.
    â€œWhat have you brought me for lunch?” Sarah sniffed, then frowned.
    Charlotte ignored the girl’s tone as she lifted the tea towel covering Sarah’s plate. “Mrs. Fletcher has been creative with leftovers again. The lamb is from Tuesday and the rice croquettes and vegetables from last night.”
    Sarah had moved into the nursery with the baby six days ago and spent her days as separate from the rest of the household staff as she could manage. The trays Charlotte carried up included nourishment for both Sarah and Henry. Charlotte knew Sarah always ate before feeding the baby, but at leastHenry’s small bowls were scraped empty when Charlotte picked up the trays. Her son was not going hungry.
    Arrangements for Henry had fallen into a routine. Though she spent most of her time in the nursery, once each afternoon Sarah carried Henry down the narrow back stairs and put him in a buggy for a stroll. Archie and Karl had come to expect the request for the buggy to be wheeled from the coach house to the servants’ entrance at midafternoon. Charlotte had found a child’s straw hat in the cartons of clothes Richard used to wear, and the entire staff giggled at how adorable Henry looked under the hat when he sat up in the buggy with his broad grin and iridescent blue eyes.
    Charlotte took Sarah’s plate off the tray and arranged a place setting at the table. She put Henry’s bowl on the high chair’s wooden tray.
    Her son whined a little and toddled toward Charlotte, pulling on her skirt when he reached her. She glanced down at him and steeled herself not to pick him up. “I think he’s hungry.”
    â€œThat makes two of us.” Sarah picked up a fork.
    â€œWell, only one of you is old enough to feed the other. His rice is creamed with a bit of soft spinach.” Charlotte stirred the mixture, but Sarah barely glanced at it. “There are a few bites of scraped meat he might like to try.” Charlotte allowed herself to drop a hand and brush the boy’s head ever so briefly.
    Sarah put half a rice croquette on her fork and stuffed it in her mouth as Henry slapped a hand against the leg of the high chair. He opened his mouth and gave a cry.
    â€œI rather think he wants to eat,” Charlotte said.
    â€œAnd he will.” Sarah stabbed a piece of lamb.
    â€œMr. Penard asked me to give you a message.” Charlottefinally relented, picked up the baby, and settled him in the chair. She left the dish out of his desperate reach, though, still hoping that Sarah would choose to fulfill her responsibility to feed the baby before he upended the bowl on the floor.
    â€œWhat does he want?”
    â€œIt’s a request from the family, actually. Mrs. Banning has asked to see the child during tea this afternoon and interview you as to his temperament and progress.”
    Sarah dropped her fork. “What do they want me to say?”
    Irritation welled. “Simply tell them how he is adjusting. Is he sleeping? Is he in good temper? Does he seem to like to play?”
    Sarah shrugged. “He’s a baby. Everyone knows not to play with babies. It only makes them cranky.”
    â€œOr it makes them happy.” Charlotte could ignore her son’s hunger no longer. She dipped his little spoon in the creamed rice and offered it to him.
    â€œNonsense.”
    â€œAll you have to do is answer their questions,” Charlotte said. She gave Henry another bite. “You might want to give him a bath