Her Graceful War Song novel Chapter 807

At that moment, both Carissa and Violet felt a twinge of discomfort in their hearts.

Violet composed herself and said gently to the little girl, "Amara, we're going somewhere else. Will you come with me?"

The one-year-old couldn't quite articulate her thoughts yet. She merely mumbled about wanting to see her mom.

Violet smiled reassuringly. "Alright, let's go see your mom."

She exchanged a heavy glance with Carissa. Even if they went, the child would only be with the abbess or someone else—she wouldn't be able to stay by Casey's side.

The wet nurse brought a baby carrier and helped Violet strap Amara onto her back. The wet nurse didn't follow them, and the child fussed for a moment. She cried until Violet managed to soothe her before leading the horse out.

As they reached the edge of the apple farm, they spotted a carriage parked outside. Carissa noticed the insignia on it—it belonged to the Quintion family.

Carissa hesitated. Was it Malcolm, Lionel, or someone else?

Violet saw it too. She halted, holding the horse steady, and reached back to gently pat Amara's bottom to keep her still.

After a while, the carriage curtains were drawn back, revealing the haggard face of a woman. She wore a stone-blue satin dress, her hair simply adorned with pearls and emeralds, her eyes red-rimmed as she looked at the two women. Her lips moved slightly, but no words came out.

Inside the carriage was also an elderly maid, who had a hand on the woman's shoulder, seemingly offering quiet comfort.

Carissa recognized her, and her heart skipped a beat—it was Malcolm's wife, Marjorie.

Clearly, Marjorie didn't intend to do anything drastic regarding Amara. Otherwise, she wouldn't have come with only an old maid.

Malcolm had claimed that everything at home was under control, but it was evident that it wasn't. He was trying to deceive his wife, who may seem simple, but had been managing such a large household. She couldn't possibly be that naïve.

She only acted that way in front of her husband.

Carissa didn't approach, and Marjorie didn't come closer either. After exchanging a few glances, Carissa decided to mount her horse to avoid any unnecessary complications.

"Of course." The wind whipped around them at the entrance to the apple farm, and Carissa noticed how frail and worn Marjorie looked. "Shall we go inside?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Carissa felt a surge of regret. The people inside knew the child's name.

But Marjorie didn't opt to go inside. Instead, she asked, "Would it be alright to speak in the carriage?"

"Of course, Madam Marjorie. As you wish." Carissa stepped forward to support Marjorie, her shoulders so thin they felt like little more than bone.

They climbed into the carriage, and the curtains fell closed.

Marjorie fought back tears, as if she had been weighing her words for a long time before finally speaking.

"I would like to discuss something with you, Your Grace. This child—let me take her back to the Quinton family. I can entrust her to Willow, one of my husband's concubines. She has a son, and her grandchild is a boy too. So, I imagine she would cherish having a daughter to dote on."