Chapter 4: 3: Doctor Female Chosen

They trailed after Vincent who moved through the house with purpose. He led them back towards the front door, then up the stairs onto the second level. As he went, he made some effort to redress, slipping his arms into the vest and shrugging it into place as he reached the landing. A sharp turn to the left carried him closer to his goal, and he reached a closed door moments later, issuing a sharp knock.

"Enter." The call was muffled, but even from a few strides away Thomas could recognise the voice of the eldest Humphrey.

Vincent obeyed easily, pushing into the room.

Simon glanced up from his ledgers, and then looked again in surprise as the three of them filed in before him. Matt collapsed easily into a chair to the right. Vincent moved to the left and stood rigidly with his hands clasped behind his back, the edge of the coat he still clutched just brushing the floor. Thomas felt awkward leaving him as the only man standing, so he moved to the other chair and leant on the back, meeting Simon's gaze as it danced between the brothers and him.

"Is something the matter?" the man asked, setting the quill he held deliberately back in the inkpot.

Whilst Vincent searched for the words to explain, Thomas glanced around the study. It was a strong contrast to his father's. The Duke of Thorne was a hard, unforgiving man, whose temperament was reflected in the décor; Thomas was used to the rooms where business was conducted being covered in a rich, dark purple velvet, with animal fur rugs and heavy curtains that protected everything – including his family's souls – from the light.

Simon's study was different. The desk was an unimposing light wood that stretched out in front of them, with books and papers stacked across its surface. The curtains, a light brown material, were drawn open, letting the setting sun cascade in and illuminate the shelves that lined the far wall. Above Simon hung a large portrait. For a moment, Thomas thought the painting might have been of Simon or Bart, but he squinted and realised it was likely their father. The man had darker hair than the Humphrey siblings, but the same brown eyes and firm chins as the brothers. His hand rested on the shoulder of a beautiful smiling woman who looked more like Phil than Beth, though there were shared features. Her hair was a mousy brown, braided back into a bun on her shoulder, and her eyes seemed to stare of out the painting and directly into Thomas.

He assumed she found him wanting.

Most did.

He tore his gaze away to find Vincent just beginning his explanation. "It appears that an infant has been left outside, and I-"

A head popped up suddenly from the other side of Simon's broad desk. "A baby?"

The excited question from Phil was not enough to distract Vincent from his carefully constructed sentence.

"-would ask we send for the doctor and the constable."

Phil scrambled to her feet at that, her long braid coming more undone by the moment. "The doctor? Is the baby alright?" Her frown was pinned on Vincent.

That particular brother had run out of words. He let out a breath and ignored her. Instead, he waved a hand at a stack of blank papers at the edge of Simon's desk, eyebrow raised in question. Simon nodded easily, and Vincent quickly selected a sheath and commandeered his quill. As he scratched out a short list – Thomas craned his neck to see if he could determine what the man was writing so urgently – Phil redirected her attention. He small fists came to rest on her hips, and she glared at Matt.

"What is the matter with the baby?" she demanded.

Matt simply shrugged.

As she turned her frustration to Thomas, Matt hid a smile behind the rim of his glass. The small girl glared across the room at Thomas, and he was man enough to admit that it was a little intimidating. Despite her height and age, Phil was not looking at him like a petulant child; she was alarmingly intelligent and had a mind of her own. And in that moment, her own mind knew exactly what it wanted to know.

"You will tell me about the baby, Thomas." It was not a question.

"Uhh..." He didn't dare refuse. "The babe seems alright now. He was just a bit cold when Vincent found him."

She nodded. "I should go check on him."

Not one of the men in the room dared protest. Not that they wanted to.

"Find Mister Grayson on your way, Phil," Simon suggested. "Matilda and the child might be more comfortable in the nursery if the maids can get a fire lit up there." The nursery had laid vacant for several years, only intruded upon when Phil occasionally remembered that she might like to play with toys. For that reason, it was kept clean, and would not pose a risk to the baby.

Phil nodded and set off purposefully, weaving her way between the men and the chairs. Vincent stood abruptly as she left and held the list he'd created out to Simon. A spot of ink streaked its way across the bottom of the paper, but neither man made a move to sand it.

Simon scanned the sheet. "Well, the first is already done; Phil will convey the message to Mister Grayson regarding the nursery and we should have them moved within the hour."

Vincent blinked in surprise but made no effort to comment. Thomas watched his head turn to where his sister had stood moments before, pause, and then turn back to Simon without a single change in expression.

"I'll send for the doctor and the constable as you've suggested, but why do you think we ought to write to Beth?" Simon continued, glancing up at them. "I mean, she should be told, but I don't see why it's a matter of urgency."

Vincent contemplated that for a moment. His thought had been that Beth was the most trusted female they knew that could be called suddenly to the Humphrey estate without the explanation they didn't yet have. That wasn't strictly true.

With the quill still in his hand, he gestured to the paper Simon was holding. He offered it back to Vincent, who quickly crossed out their sister's name and replaced it with two others.

"Our Aunt Jemima and cousin Rosemary?" Simon said as the list was returned to him. His hand fell to the desk with a light thump, and he slid down a little in his chair to shake his head at Vincent. "Why do we need a female relative here, Vin?"

His younger brother blinked; he hadn't realised that wasn't clear.

"I..." It wasn't about him.

"If..." Perhaps the theoretical would just confuse them further.

"Females are better equipped to know what to do with an infant, particularly as I imagine Matilda will need to return to her own child this evening. A relative prevents questions of impropriety for having a woman stay overnight, and it would take Beth the better part of five hours to receive your missive and return. Our Cousin and Aunt should be able to arrive within the hour." As Vincent looked around the room, switching his glance from Simon to Matthew to Thomas, a sudden thought occurred to him. "Unless I've underestimated your knowledge of infant care and hygiene?"

He was acutely aware of his heart palpitating in his chest and began wording an apology in case he had insulted any of them.

Matthew barked out a laugh that brought Vincent some relief. "I promise you've overestimated mine, Vinny. Thomas doesn't look as though he's seen a nappy, let alone changed one. And I doubt you're in a hurry to repeat your efforts with Phil, eh Si?"

Simon chuckled, shaking his head in the negative. "As ever, a well thought-through plan, Vin." He leant slightly backwards, reaching blindly for a braided, brown cord that hung from the wall. As he gave it a gentle tug, they heard a faint bell ring from outside the study. "I'll have a footman take a note to the Hurst Estate; I'm sure we will see Aunt Jemima and Rosemary – and probably Bart – within the hour."

Simon was correct.

Precisely fifty-three minutes after the footman had appeared in Simon's study to collect all the messages, Mister Grayson opened the front door to admit Aunt Jemima, Rosemary and Bart. Their brother had been staying at the Hurst estate, taking care of business in the earldom as was his responsibility. He tried to only spend a few days there every month, not wanting their family to feel as though he was chasing them out of their own home. Without a male heir, their mother's brother's title and estate had passed to him and he would have been within his legal right to toss them from the house. Legal perhaps, but not moral.

As the women bustled inside, pulling their gloves from their hands, Aunt Jemima trained her gaze on Simon. Before he could speak, she asked, "Where's the child?"

He swallowed a smile. "Upstairs in the nursery, Aunt."

Brushing her light hair out of her face, Jemima pressed her gloves into the chest of the butler and took off quickly up the stairs. She unbuttoned her coat as she went, leaving a small trail of dirt, leaves, and mostly melted snow. Grayson sighed after her, his hand clutching the gloves she'd shoved at him.

The younger lady who stepped up next offered him a sympathetic smile as she slid her coat off. "Apologies, Mister Grayson," she said softly, offering him the garment. "I hope it won't be too much effort to clean?"

The butler's expression turned stoic. "It is not a problem, Mrs Albright, though you're kind to think of us."

Their cousin smiled at him again. As she moved into the house with grace, it was easy to imagine that she would have been highly sought after during the season. Her hair was a golden blonde, fixed in delicate curls along the nape of her neck, and it framed gentle green eyes that sat above sloping cheekbones. With her coat out of the way, one of her hands drifted absently to check that the dark band on her upper arm was still in place.

Her beauty was shadowed by sadness, but she hid it well.

Now she smiled at Simon, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I apologise for Mama. I'm sure you remember how much she loves children, and until she becomes a grandmother..." Rosemary shrugged. "Well, this is the closest she might get for a while yet." If her smile was slightly fragile at the edges, no one commented.

"No need to apologise; I think that is perhaps why Vincent suggested we send for her," Simon said instead, offering her his arm. She linked them at the elbow, together following Aunt Jemima up the stairs, though at a much slower pace.

Bart was last to enter, offering Mister Grayson a curt nod as he handed over his coat. His frown was slight as he scanned the foyer, gaze coming to rest on Vincent. "You found an infant?"

Vincent was growing tired of answering that question, but he nodded anyway.

"Where?"

Vincent's head swung to Thomas who was leaning against the railing of the stairs. He let out a sigh. "By the entrance near the kitchens," he said quickly before jerking his head in the direction Simon and Rosemary were moving. "But perhaps we can follow the others so Vincent – and importantly I – don't have to repeat the tale any more times than necessary."

Bart's brow creased further, but he made no further comment and they all trotted up the stairs in pursuit of the others. Vincent trailed behind them, feeling what could only be envy burning in his chest. Whatever else Thomas might be called, he was honest and fearless, two traits Vincent couldn't help but admire.

By the time he filed into the nursery, the others had dispersed around the room and Aunt Jemima had commandeered the baby. She had settled in a chair, a soft look on her face as she stroked the babe's cheek gently.

Matilda was hovering near her, mid-way through an explanation on the previous hour. "... but even after the milk I can't get the darlin' to settle."

Aunt Jemima bent a finger and held it near the child's mouth, letting it gnaw on her knuckle in a flood of saliva. She winced slightly. "Poor little thing has a tooth or two coming through, which probably explains why he's so upset."

Still at the woman's side, Matilda leant forward to brush a few strands of hair from the child's face. "Discovered it was a little girl, m'lady, when I changed her before."

Their aunt smiled at the child. "Oh, my apologies, little miss, but we do all look quite alike at your age!" She tugged her finger free from the infant's mouth. "With teeth coming through she might appreciate a little food as well. Pop downstairs and ask the cook to boil up some potatoes or the like, will you Matilda?"

The maid nodded and departed quickly.

The baby was blinking, mourning the sudden loss of what it - she, Vincent reminded himself - had been chewing on. All of a sudden, her lower lip began to quiver, and she opened her mouth to release a ferocious cry. The men in the room flinched away. Even Phil looked a little less besotted with the baby now that it was being vocal.

"I don't suppose we can interest you in a new child, eh Aunty Jem?" Matt called from across the room, one eye shut in a wince as the babe's cries continued.

Their aunt rolled her eyes, and it was his younger sister who protested. "Matthew William Humphrey!" she scolded, stamping across the room with a glare trained on him. He easily rolled out of the chair, hopping around to hide behind it as she gave chase. "It is a baby, not a lost puppy for you to re-home!"

As he danced out of reach, he laughed. "Oh, surely it's even easier to re-home a baby, Phil. I'm certain I could get rid of it before supper is served and we'd have a lovely quiet house before we retire for the night."

His laughter was interrupted by a pillow to the face. When it fell away, Phil was wearing a very satisfied smirk.

Aunt Jemima tutted at them as she tried to sooth the child.

Matilda reappeared at the door with a tray.

"That was quick!"

"Mrs Hall had thought to prepare something, Lady Vermont. A bit of mashed pumpkin and milk for the little thing."

"That sounds splendid. Please thank her for me." Aunt Jemima clutched the child to her chest as she pushed herself out of the seat. Once risen, she was faced with the dilemma of taking the bowl from Matilda whilst juggling the child. She turned to her closest relation. "Be a dear, Vincent."

The man had been considering whether the location of the teeth sprouting in the little girl's mouth was of relevance to the type of food they might serve her. At his name, his head jerked slightly, and he met his aunt's gaze with a look that conveyed his confusion. He did obediently step forward, however.

That was his mistake; the infant was unceremoniously dumped in his arms as Jemima turned her focus to the food. The babe seemed even more affronted than Vincent, her screams doubling in volume, and she squirmed in his arms. To keep from dropping her, he readjusted, angling her vertically so that she might prop her head up near his shoulder. With one hand held against her shoulders and the other arm hooked beneath her rear, he stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

No one else offered assistance for fear of being handed the wailing bundle.

Aunt Jemima had the bowl now and stirred the dark orange mixture slowly. "You look half-terrified of the little thing," she said to him. "Just give her a little rock and a pat on the back and she'll be happy in a moment. It might be that she's hungry and this pumpkin will sort her right out."

If Vincent could do anything, he could follow instructions. He began to sway from side to side as he'd seen Matilda do in the kitchen, and tapped his higher hand gently against her back. Each pat was a different strength to the last as he struggled to find a force that would sooth the child without injuring it.

The crying was suddenly replaced by a gurgle near his ear, followed by a tiny baby cough.

"Ugh!" Matthew's exclamation was unnecessary; Vincent was capable of deducing what had just happened on his shoulder.

Aunt Jemima appeared pleased, requesting a towel from Matilda. "Oh, I'm sure she feels much better now! Who knew you had the golden touch, Vincent dear." She dabbed at his vest, wiping the worst of the liquid that coated his shoulder away.

For her part, the baby also seemed happy with what she'd just done. With another gurgle - this time liquid-free - she turned her face into the side of Vincent's neck and let out a sigh, the size of which belied her small frame.

"Oh, the poor thing has quite worn herself out!" Aunt Jemima exclaimed, gesturing Vincent to a chair and gently insisting he sit. "Just stay as you are and I'm sure she'll have a bit of a sleep."

Vincent blinked.

He looked to the rest of the room for assistance. Matthew was grinning, both for having escaped Phil's wrath and for having avoided being saddled with the baby. Not that anyone would have trusted him with the child. Simon and Bart just looked relieved to be in a quiet room again, but they also made no move towards him. Rosemary was smiling at him gently, but he didn't feel as if he could ask her to take the baby. She was family, but they weren't close enough for him to ask that of her. Phil had been distracted by a few toys across the room and would be of no help.

That left Thomas.

The man was standing on the far side of the room, his arms folded across his chest as he leant on the back of an armchair. When his eyes met Vincent's, his eyebrow quirked slightly. Vincent didn't know what it meant - a question, a challenge? - but he averted his gaze and slid further into the chair.

He was an educated man. He was widely considered a capable and reliable man. Surely he could look after a baby for a few hours whilst it slept!

~~~

Hello Lovely Readers!

Well, now we've got a lovely little mystery girl in our midst! Any ideas where they should start looking for answers?

As always, please vote or comment to let me know what you think <3

xx Flo