Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

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.