Timothy observed his father throughout dinner, noting the elder gentleman seemed very quiet. He had not spoken to Timothy of the earlier conversation with Dr. Clarkson. And seeing as how Isobel seemed quite jovial and unassuming this evening, he supposed his father had not made her privy to Dr. Clarkson's information either.

"I doubt George or Marigold will sleep tonight," Isobel remarked, smiling to Dickie. "You made them both so happy."

"Indeed, Father. It was a splendid idea. How did you ever get Mr. Hamilton to agree to it?" Timothy asked, taking a sip of his wine.

"I reminded him of the trade show coming up. I suggested it might be better to fill the stables with horses that could put in a full day's work than with two foals which need quite a bit of attention," Dickie answered, forcing a smile to his son and wife.

The door opened and a young hall boy entered, catching only Timothy's attention as he slipped over to Mr. Mead and whispered something in his ear. The Butler nodded and quickly motioned for the boy to leave. Isobel saw Timothy's eyes focus on the exchange behind her and turned to see the door closing. Mead stepped forward before she had a chance to question the situation.

"I do apologize, Milord…Milady…it seems there is someone at the front door requesting to speak to Your Lordship immediately," Mead said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back.

Dickie's eyes narrowed as he fixed Mead with a pointed look. "What on Earth….who is this person and what is so urgent it cannot wait until morning?!"

Timothy was not surprised at his father's harsh tone, having heard it quite often growing up. But he did notice Isobel flinch slightly and supposed she was unaccustomed to Dickie speaking so irritably.

"I am sorry, Milord. It is Mrs. Ingle from the local orphanage. She said it is imperative she speak with you tonight."

Isobel's eyes quickly darted back and forth between Mead and Dickie. "Is something wrong with one of the children? Has she said?"

"She has not said, milady," Mead answered Isobel before looking back to Dickie. "Shall I send her off?"

"Of course not! Dickie…" Isobel pleaded, her eyes turning to meet her husband's. Upon seeing her so upset, Dickie could not help but allow his walls of defense down.

"Bring her in to the library and have a tea tray brought. I'll be along directly," Dickie answered, waiting until the Butler left the room to turn back to his family. Isobel had already placed her napkin on the table and was sliding her evening gloves up her arms.

"Isobel…perhaps you should stay here with Timothy…"Dickie said cautiously, standing and straightening his dinner jacket.

Confused, her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. "But surely if it's something to do with the children, she will need my help."

"Allow me to see what has happened. It may simply be something to do with an upset tenant or repairs needed for the building. I'm sure it's nothing to worry over…" he answered gently, looking over to Timothy, silently asking for his son's support.

"Father is right, Isobel. With the spring rains, it could be that the roof has a leak or there is flooding in one of the rooms."

Dickie smiled gratefully to his son and then turned back to Isobel. "You two finish here, and I'll be back straight away. I'm sure I'll be able to help Mrs. Ingle within the hour."

And with that, Lord Merton left the room. The footman closed the door behind him before Isobel was able to object further. She stared at the door for a moment, not sure what to think, before Timothy pulled her back from her reservations.

"Why don't I come through with you now, Isobel? I assume you do not wish to finish dessert…We can chat over Father's plan for the new school house to ease your worries," he said with a smile, standing and coming to offer her a hand.

"I…I suppose," she replied, taking his hand and following him out the door. He led her towards the drawing room but a soft cry from across the large hall stopped them both.

"What was that?"

Timothy put a hand on Isobel's arm, stalling her from moving forward.

"Stay here…I'll go see about it."

"But I…"

"Isobel…please. Father wouldn't want you to worry yourself more than necessary…and I would not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath."

Timothy made sure she agreed to stay put before hurrying across the hall to the front entrance. He looked back and forth to the darkened corners for any trace of someone injured or needing help. It was not until he came to the front door and turned to his right that he found what he was searching for….though it was not at all what he'd expected.

"My God…."

"Mrs. Ingle, I understand your predicament….but I fail to see how I may be of help in this situation."

"Lord Merton, forgive my boldness…but I am desperate. We simply have no room at the orphanage and with her needing this much care, she will need constant supervision. The nurses at the hospital are already overwhelmed…and well…Dr. Frederick suggested a live-in nurse until a good home can be found."

"And you wish for money to pay for a nurse?"

Mrs. Ingle looked down at her hands, shaking her head slowly. "No, milord…it is not money we need at the moment. It is a home….someone to keep her and care for her."

Dickie's heart seemed to stop as he now realized what the woman sitting in front of him was asking. Standing quickly, he moved to the fireplace, one hand on his chin and the other on his hip. Staring in to the embers, he knew what his answer needed to be….but explaining it to both Mrs. Ingle and his wife would not be an easy task.

"Please do not think me inhospitable nor unwilling to help….but Mrs. Ingle, if you are asking that she be left here at Cavenham Park…it is impossible," he said sadly, turning to meet the pleading eyes of Mrs. Ingle. "I know we have the room….but you see…Lady Merton is not…rather, she has been unwell…"

"Father!"

Timothy burst through the door, closing it quickly behind him and running up to Dickie.

"There is a baby, Father….in the front hall!" he spat out.

It was then he noticed Mrs. Ingle sitting silently, her hands gripping the small bag lying in her lap. Dickie remained rooted in place, his head hanging down.

"Father…what is going on?"

"Milady, there is something that may require your attention in the front hall," Mrs. Crane said, coming to stand in front of Isobel. Isobel thanked the footmen who had handed her a cup of coffee before turning to the Housekeeper.

"Yes, we did hear something when we came out of the dining room. Timothy was looking in to it."

"I'm sorry but I don't believe he is, milady," the Housekeeper countered. Isobel frowned slightly, setting her cup to the side.

"Whatever do you mean?" Isobel asked, attempting to keep any animosity out of her tone. Relations with the Housekeeper were already tense. It would not do to start a fight when there may be no need for one. Truth be told, she was too tired to deal with the infuriating woman tonight.

"He and His Lordship are still in the library with Mrs. Ingle. He did not take care of the…problem...it seems."

Isobel's eyes creased. "What sort of 'problem' is this?" she asked.

"Yes…well…I appreciate both of your thoughts. I'll bid you a good night….and please give my best to Lady Merton," Mrs. Ingle said. She nodded to both men and made her way to the door. Dickie followed and led her quickly through the front hall, hoping Isobel was still in the drawing room.

Timothy remained a few steps behind, his eyes drifting off in thought. It was an odd situation…and he wasn't sure what to make of it. But his thoughts were soon interrupted as he caught sight of Mrs. Crane opening the drawing room door and pointing to the front entrance.

Timothy moved quickly, catching Isobel by the shoulders as she rushed out of the drawing room. "Isobel, what is the matter?"

"Mrs. Crane said there is a sick baby at the front door! Is that what Mrs. Ingle is here about?" she asked, pushing past him and calling out for her husband. Timothy's glare at the Housekeeper quickly wiped away the smug expression plastered across her face.

If one thing was for sure, Mrs. Crane did everything in her power to rattle Lord and Lady Merton's relationship. She knew of Isobel's passion for the orphanage…and of Dickie's passion for his wife's well-being. Pitting those passions against each other was just the argument the Housekeeper hoped to ignite. Lady Merton would surely want to keep the child….Lord Merton would refuse….Lady Merton would be angry at her husband…he would be frustrated with her….the perfect plan! Mrs. Crane held her head high as she turned on her heel and walked towards the stairwell leading to the downstairs kitchens. Mr. Mead would be down soon to tell how the evening played out…and it was then that she would celebrate the beginning demise of Lord and Lady Merton's fairy tale.

"Whatever is the matter? Mrs. Crane said there was a baby that needed help…" Isobel rattled off, stopping short when she saw the bundle of blankets in the woman's arms.

"Mrs. Ingle has asked if there are any families we may know of that could take in this little one," Dickie explained, reaching out to grasp his wife's arm as she stalled at his side. "I have suggested Dr. Frederick may have a better idea than we."

"But surely we could…"

Dickie gently squeezed Isobel's arm, knowing exactly what she was contemplating. "My dear, Mrs. Ingle has had quite a long night. I think it would be best we let her get on to the hospital. Shall I have a car brought 'round, Mrs. Ingle?"

"Thank you, milord, but one of the young men from the village drove us up."

Dickie nodded and smiled at Mrs. Ingle before turning back to Isobel. Her eyes were fixated on Mrs. Ingle's burden and it took Dickie opening the large front door before she snapped out of her reverie.

"Then we will see you on Friday to discuss the school house," Dickie replied, bidding Mrs. Ingle a good night. She returned his farewell and also offered Isobel a kind 'good night' before walking out the door.

"Wait!" Isobel called, hurrying forward and catching up to the small woman.

Dickie hung his head, wishing he had fired the Housekeeper months ago. If Mrs. Crane had not told Isobel of the situation, Mrs. Ingle and the child would be on their way, and he would not have to fight with Isobel over keeping the child. Dickie turned and saw Timothy standing across the Hall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, pacing back and forth. He motioned for the young man to join him as he walked out of the house and met the women standing in the middle of the drive.

"Might I see the baby?" Isobel asked softly. Mrs. Ingle looked up and caught the defeated frown of Lord Merton. He sighed and nodded, though it was not without reservation. Once Isobel had hold of the child, there was little hope she would let go. ,

Carefully handing the small bundle over to Isobel's awaiting arms, Mrs. Ingle explained the situation to Lady Merton.

"She's a tiny lass, milady. Her mother died when she was born…and her father…well…he simply could not handle the child by himself. I'm afraid he took his own life this morning."

Isobel's head snapped up. "What?"

Sighing, Mrs. Ingle continued. "We found her in a basket on our doorstep at dawn. When I took her to the hospital with the note, a few men from the village were sent over to the farm to check on him. Dr. Frederick said there was no hope for the poor man, I'm afraid."

"How horrible," Isobel breathed, looking over to find Dickie and Timothy standing beside her. "We simply cannot send her to the hospital…not with her being so young and vulnerable to illness."

"But…"

"I am already a trained nurse and can care for her until we find someone else to help. I assume she has been drinking another kind of milk since her mother died?" Isobel asked, turning back to Mrs. Ingle.

"Yes, milady. Dr. Frederick said she was fine with cow's milk when he gave her some," Mrs. Ingle answered timidly, sensing a disagreement between Lord and Lady Merton was soon to ensue.

"Very well. Was there any other instruction Dr. Frederick gave?"

"He said she was about two and a half months old and just to care for her as we would any other infant. We've never had many infants, milady. I'm afraid…"

Isobel tightened her hold on the bundle with one arm and reached over to gently squeeze Mrs. Ingle's shoulder with the other. "I understand. And I'm sure we can help in this situation, seeing as though your resources are already overtaxed in the orphanage. Isn't that right, Lord Merton?"

She turned back to him, her look serious…her eyes pleading. Dickie looked away, knowing he should protest but simply unable to refuse when she looked at him like that.

He battled with himself…afraid to make the wrong choice. Was it right to deny her this? Dr. Clarkson had said he had some answers to Isobel's testing and that they needed to come in immediately…an appointment being set for the next day. It sounded quite serious…but surely the doctor would have told him if…

"Please…" she whispered, taking a step closer to him. His eyes dropped to the sleeping baby, the small bundle that seemed to fit perfectly in her arms. The little girl was incredibly tiny, and he knew Isobel's time would be devoted to nothing more than getting her back to full strength. Perhaps keeping his wife closer to home rather than running around the village to help the orphans and various charities would do her a bit of good.

"Very well," he replied with a sigh. "But we'd best inform Mrs. Crane to prepare a nursery. I'm sure that was not the consequence she was expecting."

As a wide smile graced both Isobel and Mrs. Ingle's lips, Timothy had to suppress his laughter. He could not wait to see the scowl on the Housekeeper's face when she heard of the extra work she was in for.

Serves her right…