"Richard, they're here!" she called happily, and a little wildly as she headed quickly out of the sitting room and into the hall.

"Well, go and answer the door, then," he told her, "Go on, I'm just making sure she's alright."

"Oh, very well," she told him, "You're sure she's up to visitors?"

"Quite," he told her, "Now go and let them in."

She made her way without further ado down the corridor and opened the front door.

"AUNTY BELL!"

"Hello, my darling," bending down, Isobel scooped up Sybbie Branson- little arms outstretched to greet her aunty- picking her up and hugging her tightly, "Have you come to see me?"

"Baby," Sybbie replied, "Come to see baby."

"Well," Isobel smiled over the little girl's mop of curly hair at her father, who was standing there smiling at the two of them, "That's me put in my place."

Tom grinned at her.

"This little chap came to see you though," he told her; he was holding George in one of his arms and a large bunch of flowers in the other, "He wanted to see his Granny."

"I'm supposed to be Grandmama," she reminded him.

"Yes, but it doesn't suit you," he replied with another wicked grin, "Hello, Dr. Clarkson," he added swiftly, seeing Richard coming down the corridor, narrowly escaping a rather sharp retort from Isobel.

"Good morning, Mr. Branson," Richard replied, "It's nice of you to come and see us. But you do look quite laden down. Would you like me to relieve you of that young man?"

"That would be good of you," Tom told him, handing George over to Richard.

Richard took the baby, holding him very naturally and said to him, "Come on, chap, let's get you inside and you can meet young Miss Helen."

Tom and Isobel were quiet for a few moments, watching Richard and George proceed together down the corridor. George's little hand curled in a fist around the lapel of Richard's jacket, holding on tightly.

"He's good with him," Tom remarked quietly.

"He's good with Helen too," she replied, "The man is quite a loss to paediatrics."

"That isn't what I meant," Tom pointed out softly.

"I know it's not," Isobel replied.

There was silence for another moment.

"I brought you some flowers," he told her after a moment, "I think it's a wonderful thing you're doing. I hope I'd find it in my heart to do the same."

"Thank you," she replied gently, then, after a moment, "It's good of you to say. I think Richard thinks I'm doing for selfish reasons."

There was a moment's pause.

"What does it matter if what you're doing is good?" Tom asked, "Anyway, I don't think that's what he thinks. And if he did, he'd understand. It can't be that selfish," he added after a moment, "Or you wouldn't look as tired as I did the week after little madam here was born," he gently touched his daughter's cheek and she let out a little giggle.

Rolling her eyes a little at her father, Isobel looked down at Sybbie. While they had been talking, Sybbie had quietly managed to tuck her head into the other end of Isobel's long necklace so they were both wearing it together. She smiled mischievously as Isobel realised what had happened.

"This girl is her mother through and through," she told him, kissing Sybbie's forehead quickly, "Come on, and meet my little girl, then."

"Do you have any idea where she came from?" Tom asked her as they went into the house.

"None," Isobel replied, "The police are still looking for clues. Richard will keep them at it as long ass he can, but I don't think they'll find anything now."

"You don't sound disappointed by that," Tom told her quietly.

"I don't mind telling you, Tom," she paused just outside the door to the sitting room, "I'm not."

There was a pause.

"Don't tell Richard."

"Of course not," he replied.

They exchanged a brief, understanding smile.

"Would you mind awfully putting those flowers in the kitchen and I'll take this arrant little girl in to see Helen?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied.

He opened the sitting room door for her before he went, and she slipped quietly inside.

"Hello," she murmured.

Richard turned.

"Hello," he replied quietly.

"How are my favourite people getting along?" she asked.

"Oh, marvellously," he replied, bouncing George just ever so slightly, keeping him happy.

George was still holding on to Richard's lapel and it made her smile.

"I didn't quite know," Richard told her in a low voice, "How to introduce them."

Isobel gave him an odd look.

"Richard, I don't think they really in a position to judge your etiquette at this stage," she told him.

"No, but, I didn't know whether to tell him that this is his Aunty Helen," he told her awkwardly. And then, a moment later, looking at her clearly, "Is she your daughter, Isobel?"

She blinked, hard. Her eyes did not leave his for a long moment.

"Baby!" Sybbie suddenly interjected, reminding them both very clearly of her presence, "Want to see baby."

"Yes, my dear, I'm so sorry," Isobel took her over to the edge of the crib, holding her so she could see.

Sybbie peered down into the crib; and then frowned a little. Isobel waited for her inevitable verdict.

"Sleepy," Sybbie pronounced.

"Yes, she sleeps a lot," Isobel explained.

"Always?"

"No, she wakes up sometimes," Isobel replied, "But we mustn't wake her. That wouldn't be very kind."

"To us or to her?" Richard asked wryly.

Isobel shot him an amused glance.

"Pretty," Sybbie pronounced.

"Pretty?" Isobel asked.

"Yes," Sybbie nodded emphatically, "Baby pretty."

Isobel smiled.

"Isobel," Richard murmured, "I think we have another sleepy baby here," he indicated to George, who seemed to have dropped off in his arms.

"Oh dear, I imagine this is quite an outing for him," she remarked, "Here, just put him down next to Helen."

"Are you sure?"

There was a pause. She frowned deeply.

"Because he'll be an earl one day and she was found on the street?" she asked.

"Good God, no!" he exclaimed, extremely taken aback, "I mean is the crib big enough?"

"Oh. Yes, I think so. I'm sorry, Richard. I just-..."

"It doesn't matter," he told her quickly, "It's alright, it doesn't matter."

"I don't know why I said that," she told him, "Of course I don't think you'd-... I just-..."

"You just defended Helen, instinctively," he told her, "You thought you heard what sounded like the hint of a threat and you defended her before you even rationalised it. It's alright," he told her again, "It's perfectly natural. She's your little girl."

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