A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so glad everyone thought the first chapter showed promise! I very nearly squealed in my chair in delight! XD

The artwork I have used for this fic is called 'The Spinet' by Thomas Wilmer Dewing, and since it has been over sixty years since he painted it, as well as the fact I am not making money from this...well, you get the drift :P

Thanks to AGoodOmen for her info on accents!

Also - a whole lot of research went into this chapter. If you're interested in that kind of thing, I've written it up in my authors notes at the bottom (nerdy I know!) :P

Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed!

Enjoy! :)

II. A Sudden Influx of New Blood

"Jessica, for the last time, you will NOT be coming!" James Lester growled to his ward, Jessica Parker. She was far too headstrong for her own good, and not afraid of voicing her opinion. It served him right, for spoiling her for all these years. "I have no doubt you will be bored for the duration of our stay, and so, it is best that you stay here, in London; where you will find suitable diversions."

Jess rolled her eyes. As much as she loved the man who had become a father to her, he really could be quite intolerable sometimes. When he had taken her in, thirteen years ago, as a small, eight year-old, he had informed her quite seriously, that on no small term, was she to ever call him 'papa' or 'father' or any other such nonsense, just plain 'Lester' would do in private, and 'sir' in public. With wide eyes, Jess had nodded and gave him her biggest, brightest smile, before giving the stern man in one of her childish hugs 'No need to get sentimental.' he would say, but in actual fact, sometimes he treated her far more like his own blood than his actual children.

"Lester, I really cannot stay here! I am quite sure there are suitable diversions in the country!" Jess replied easily, settling herself on the couch and smoothing her skirts (she had only just purchased them, and was immensely proud of how colourful and bright they were), "I mean really, you know I will have absolutely nothing to here! The company has been quite uninteresting since the Milsons went to Italy!"

"Jessica-" Lester began once more, but his ward cut him off.

"Lester." Jess said firmly, looking her guardian squarely in the eye. Her tone brooked absolutely no room for argument, and whenever she fixed her bright blue gaze on him, what was he, a mere mortal to do?

"As you wish." Lester sighed in exasperation, still grumbling as his ward squealed happily and jumped up to give him a hug (as if she had never expected him to say yes) "Really, where has your etiquette gone Jessica? You may accompany me, but do not expect to be well entertained. Primvale is guaranteed to provide absolutely nothing of interest."

..oOo..

One should know, that Primvale was a tight-knit community and as such, it was nigh on impossible to keep a secret. One person would see or hear something and tell a close friend (in the strictest confidence); they would mention it fleetingly to another group of people and the news would spread from there.

It was for that very reason that when Mrs Holmes from the post office noticed a certain letter addressed to the butler of Malonay House, the news spread about the small town like wildfire. By the next morning, the entire town knew that Mr James Lester was bringing his ward down to live in the country for several months; and would arrive the next morning.

This particular fact had been deduced, by the letter sent to the butler, the subsequent gossip of the house-staff, the preparation of a large side of beef; and the opening of the house itself. The town itself was in quite a flutter for the rest of the evening, and if one looked closely, the more outgoing inhabitants could be seen travelling excitably from house to house, exchanging news and gossip.

One particular piece of said gossip, told that Sir Lester's ward had been taken up off from the streets when she was a babe. Another told that she was an illegitimate love-child; and another that she was in fact his destitute, money-hungering niece. The women of Primvale could be heard discussing the nature of the visit all afternoon. Yes, such an unexpected visit from the town's favourite member of the upper-class would be the topic of much discussion.

..oOo..

Mr Connor Temple was not your typical student of Cambridge university. He was alternatively viewed as a genius, a master of science (despite being only six-and-twenty); or, to say the least...a little odd. His interests lay not only in the fields of medicine, but in the areas of engineering, machinery, and invention as well.

It was for that very reason that Connor was never quite able to complete the full sixteen-week course needed to attain his doctorate. He would become distracted by some new idea or work that caught his eye and become so engrossed in that task he would forget all about the lectures he was meant to be attending.

There was one guest Professor however (brought in for a single week until a replacement could be found), who's work had greatly interested him. The man was sarcastic, and dry, yet more passionate about his work than any other man in any lecture he had attended (few they may have been).

However, said Professor, had decided that he was in need of a move to the country, and as such, that was the very reason Connor was standing outside the black door of number 2/5 Whirwood Street. Residence of a Mr Stephen Hart, close friend of Dr Nicholas Cutter - the subject of his inquiry.

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged, stiff butler (he presumed) in black, "Yes sir?" the butler asked formally, and Conner cleared his throat, tugging at the corner of his waistcoat awkwardly.

"Um, yeh...yes," he stammered, "I am here to see a Mr Hart. Is he available at the moment?"

"And you are?" the butler asked, raising his eyebrows at the younger man's stuttering.

Connor gulped under the other mans glare, "Connor Temple." he managed to say, "I am here about his acquaintance with a Dr Nicholas Cutter."

"If you would like to wait in the drawing room Sir, whilst I convey your call." the butler inclined his head, and opened the door for Connor to step in out of the chill. The drawing room was quite nice, he mused as he stood in the centre of the room.

Dark and very...manly, when he thought about it. And he, Connor Temple, was standing in the middle of it, ready to intrude on another man's privacy just to become an apprentice? What had he gotten himself into?

..oOo..

"There is someone here to see you Sir." his butler said, upon entering his study. "A Mr Connor Temple."

Stephen looked up from his papers and frowned, "I don't know any Mr Temple Briggs." he said thoughtfully, "Did he tell you what he wanted?"

"Yes Sir, to talk to you about your acquaintance with Dr Nick Cutter Sir." Briggs replied stiffly.

Stephen's frown deepened and he put down his pen and leaned back into his chair, folding his arms over his waist "What do you make of him then Briggs?" he said.

"He is quite young Sir." the butler answered loftily, giving a depreciating sniff, "And...odd. If I say so to Sir."

Stephen walked into his drawing room to find this 'Connor Temple' bending over and looking at the guns in his display cabinet. To say the boy looked a little...odd...was an understatement. He was wearing a black waistcoat, brown, woolen vest and dark red cravat; and to his horror, fingerless gloves. This Mr Connor Temple's choice of attire was in fact, bordering on the ridiculous.

He looked like some distasteful character from one of Charles Dickens novels. Stephen shook his head as he cleared his throat, immediately attracting the attention of the younger man. "Connor Temple I presume?" he said politely, holding out his hand, which the other man took and shook with vigor, before gesturing towards a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"Ahhh you see Mr Hart, I have come to enquire about Dr Cutter, and to ask of his whereabouts." Connor said, as he shook his head at the butler when the man offered him a cigar.

Stephen too shook his head at Briggs and returned his attention to the man in front of him. "Why exactly, Mr Temple, would you wish to do that?" he asked, honestly curious. "What interest do you have in Dr Cutter?"

"I would like to propose myself as an apprentice to Dr Cutter, as I feel he is exactly the type of doctor who can give me the best type of practical experience." Connor said confidently, but frowned when the other man laughed out loud.

Stephen cleared his throat awkwardly, "Yes. I'm sorry, but I am not quite sure we are talking about the same person here Mr Temple." he said with a smirk, "Dr Nicholas Cutter? The doctor who is more interested in the science of things than doctoring?"

"That's the one!" Connor replied cheerfully, certain he had come to the right place, "I greatly admire his work on chemistry and other medical practices, and feel that I could learn much from him. You wouldn't by any chance have an address by which I could perhaps contact him would you?"

Stephen couldn't do anything but stare at the younger man in shock. He really was an oddball. The reasonable part of him said to send this Connor Temple on his way, but a small part of him at the back of his head insisted he give him Cutter's address - even if it was just so he could see how he reacted to the surge of energy that surrounded the young man in front of him.

He sighed, getting up from his chair and taking a card from his coat pocket. Going to a small desk sitting in the corner of the room, he dipped a pen in some ink and scribbled an address onto the paper. Sometimes he really didn't understand why he did the things he did. "This is Dr Cutter's address." Stephen said, turning and giving the younger man his paper. "Tell him that I sent you, and then you can plead your case all you want. I cannot help you any more than that."

..oOo..

"The coastline of Great Britain, Captain." the seaman said to the lone man. The other, dark haired man simply stood there, staring out from the prow of the ship and soaking in the sight of the green shore that stretched ahead of him.

When he got no reply, the seaman shrugged. This passenger was quiet - had barely spoken a word the entire voyage. To think the man was an officer, and a fairly young one at that. If he guessed correctly, he was not much older than twenty-five, but he moved, and looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He must be a bloody good soldier if he had earned the rank of Captain at such a young age, the seaman decided. Not one to be trifled with.

"Should arrive in Portsmouth soon Sir." the seaman offered as he moved away.

He was surprised by no small means when the army officer spoke up, "Thank you Watts." he replied, his voice barely indicating any emotion. "It is good to be home."

Watts smiled. He, of all people had tempted a word from the reclusive officer. "Quite right Captain Becker." he said with a smile, "Quite right."

A/N: Oh yes...it is all coming together now people! Our favourite characters are all ready to converge and create chaos! Muahahah! If anyone has any requests or prompts - just let me know and I'll see what I can do! :)

Research:

For a man to become a doctor in the 1840's, he had two choices. 1. The Proprietary System:- he would attend a medical school and instead of gaining hands-on training, he would attend around eight hours of lectures a day, for sixteen weeks. 2. The Apprenticeship Model:- he would pair with a more experienced, practicing doctor, for 'on-the-job training'.

For the first, it was fairly easy and ungraded, however it was expensive. For the second, students studying under a doctor had more of a working knowledge (obviously to an extent), however it was hard to find a place as an apprentice, as posts were limited.

Charles Dickins 'Oliver Twist' was published in it's complete form in 1838. (It was originally published in a magazine, chapter by chapter, per month for the duration of 1837-38)