She handed Emma over without hesitation, gently settling the chubbier little girl into his arms. "There you are," she cooed to the babe, placing a hand on Emma's downy pate for a moment before drawing away.

Tobias took the babe carefully and laid her against his chest. Emma was relaxed and did not protest, but quietly stared into the room from this new perspective. He rubbed her back and looked down at the little girl, the child he had wanted so badly, his daughter. But nothing was as he had hoped it would be. He had been so anxious about whether the child would live, that he still hardly felt like a father now. Alice still refused to even look at her baby. And they were anything but a happy family. He worried.

He looked up and tried to look happy. "She's much calmer now than before ye came."

"I will admit that I will probably miss her when the time comes to ween her, she is an angel," she said quietly, indicating there would probably be no problems when it came time for her to go. But who knew what the future held? She watched the pair from beneath lowered lashes. Tobias was quite handsome, she thought, and in another life, perhaps she would have made a fine wife for a man li--- Jesus, stop thinking about that, she inwardly scolded herself!

Ever since meeting him, she had been having conflicting thoughts.

"And she'll probably miss you," Tobias said before thinking and realizing that that said too much about what a state they were in. "Eeeee-are ye still comfortable enough in t' house? Owt ye need?" he changed the subject.

"Aye, I am comfortable enough," she said softly. "Though perhaps it would be a good idea for me to meet the missus," she said quietly, not really meaning it but wanting to be proper.

It was inevitable. So perhaps they could just as well get it over with. "Right... well, ye best put Emma to bed then. Alice... she refuses to see 'er. She's ill..." He held the baby out to Iris. Emma had fallen asleep.

She took the sleeping baby carefully and moved to her room to put the baby to bed. Singing could be heard for a moment as the baby fussed a little at being moved, but it was brief. About ten minutes later, Iris came out.

Tobias followed Iris upstairs and waited on the landing, folding his arms tightly over his chest. He didn’t like the idea of introducing anyone to his wife, because frankly it made him feel embarrassed. All his life he had felt socially awkward, and as a grown up, he had continued to feel like he was the odd one out, barely a man. Now at last, he had a wife and child, like other men, and still he felt like a failure, for it was clear to anyone with eyes that this whole thing was a farce, even if Alice didn’t actively seek to embarrass him.

His gloomy meditation was interrupted when Mrs. Carpenter stepped out of her room. Tobias looked up, dropped his arms, tried to drop the frown, and told her: “This way.” He opened another door and led her in.

The room looked bare, with only a heavy wooden bed and a simple chair for furniture. There were no cupboards or chests to store any items, no writing desk, no comfortable armchair, not even a nightstand, only a round rag rug by the bed. Some clothes lay folded on the chair and a woollen shawl was draped over its back. On top of the clothes lay a carpet bag and on top of that what looked like a small bible and a prayer book. On the floor next to the bed, lay another book, with a cover that read: The Pilgrim's Progress from This World, to That Which Is to Come, by John Bunyan. The room seemed dark. There was a single window through which the diminishing daylight fell on heavy dark wainscot. The faded green and white flowery wallpaper above the dado offered meagre compensation.

But the most wretched thing about the room was its occupant, who half lay, half sat in bed, with the blanket drawn up to her chest. She looked young, barely past girlhood, though perhaps the fact that her long red hair was down in a messy plait made her look younger. Yet she lacked any of the animation or vigour of youth. Rather she looked pale and sickly and hardly there. Her sunken eyes glanced at Tobias and the newcomer for a moment, but then she looked away and pulled the blanket up to her chin, covering her nightgown.

“Tobias, I am not decent,” she whimpered.

“It’s just the wetnurse,” Tobias said, bitterly wondering when Alice had suddenly gotten interested in decency. “This is Mrs. Carpenter.” He turned to the wetnurse. “Mrs. Carpenter, this is my wife, Mrs. Appleton.”

“Alice,” the girl protested.

She looked at the young woman at first with a little bit of shock, but then her eyes softened into something else. It was not pity, but rather, understanding. Iris slowly approached the girl and then said softly, "Look, you have the prettiest red hair just like me." She tilted her head and gave a slight smile, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the girl's shoulder. If Alice let her, it would be a brief touch, one that conveyed comfort and not judgment.

Then she pulled away, not wanting to make Alice any more uncomfortable than she seemed to be. "I am sorry that you aren't feeling well, Alice... You may call me Iris if you'd like. Would you like that?"

Alice pulled away from Iris sharply. Her eyes were fixed on the other woman's face, hostile, frightened, disgusted, desperate. After a moment of silence, she looked away and shrugged. "I don't care."

"Alice, show some manners, will ye," Tobias rebuked.