Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

6: Lecture Friend Mystery

As the final week of term wrapped up, the classes were not as structured as they might normally have been. Exams had been sat, results were pending, and the discussions were designed to test their memories and expand their minds. The following day, Thomas hovered in the doorway of a lecture hall in the midst of one such debate.

There was, perhaps, ten young men in the room, sitting on wooden benches towering in an imposing amphitheatre. At the centre – on the stage – was an older, bearded man leaning on a podium. Thomas found Vincent easily; he was seated in the second row of chairs, distinctly removed from the others who were gathered closer to the front. Whilst the others reclined, or exchanged hushed comments, Vincent was bent over his desk, scrawling hurriedly on some paper. His closest classmate was an overweight blonde fellow with red cheeks and bad posture who seemed completely satisfied with ignoring the man behind him.

Thomas was too busy frowning to realise he'd been noticed until the professor called out to him. "May we help you?"

Vincent looked over his shoulder and offered one slow blink, clearly surprised to find Thomas in the doorway. The emotion didn't fade – Thomas could have sworn some pink entered his cheeks – and he cast confused looks between the professor, his notes and Thomas.

Ever happy to cause discomfort, Thomas smiled broadly. "Hello! I was just waiting on Lord Humphrey and thought I might pop my head in. Do you mind if I observe at all?"

As one, the men inside turned to look at Vincent; if he wasn't embarrassed before, he most certainly was now. The professor let out a world-weary sigh.

"I suppose so," he said slowly, his inflection suggesting he would much rather bar Thomas from the room if only be had the energy. With the words said, he appeared to dismiss the intrusion from his mind, turning his attention back to his pupils. "But what statute supports your argument, Mister Hayes?"

As Thomas circled the back of the room, the blonde man in front of Vincent shifted in his seat, his elbows rising back onto the bench behind him. The movement knocked the inkpot on Vincent's desk, drawing his gaze immediately off Thomas and back to his work in time for him to steady the pot without accident. Concentration restored, be continued scratching out his thoughts.

The man – Mister Hayes – sniffed. "The Manchester Resolution limits working hours in factories to twelve-" he caught the eye of a peer who shook his head ever so slightly, "To ten hours."

"And you believe that is sufficient legal support for laborers?"

Thomas sunk into the seat beside Vincent – not that the man noticed – and remarked to himself that the professor must have been an awfully successful whist player; his face did not reveal a drop of emotion.

"What else-" This time it wasn't a glance from across the room preventing Mister Hayes from misspeaking, but the flourish of paper appearing under his nose. Vincent's arm was outstretched, and he waved his notes slightly until the man snatched them from his grasp. Hayes scanned them quickly. "The Factories act of 1802," he said abruptly, the stilted words leaving no doubt that he was reading directly from Vincent's page. "It provides sleeping quarters, food, and v-venit...ventilation for the protection of apprentices."

The professor adjusted himself on the podium, his head stilting slightly to the side without his beard appearing to move. "And again I ask you, Mister Hayes; do you believe that is sufficient legal support for laborers?"

This time the man was smart enough to wait. He extended a hand, chubby fingers wrapping around the next sheath of paper Vincent pressed into them. "No," he finally announced. "Discussion are already underway to amend the act, with additions such as working hour and age restrictions. This ought to..."