"Just... the thought of going to church. I haven't been since..." and then her eyes dropped and her smile died, "Never mind," she said ever so quietly.

"Oh..." he said clumsily. He figured she meant the death of her husband and child. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he thought of how to cheer her up. "They're all nice people there." Alright, they had judged and gossiped about Alice and him. Mostly Alice. But it was better not to mention that. "It might be nice to get to know some people in the area."

"I wouldn't mind making some friends, truth be told. I am used to being on my own for the most part," she took in a deep breath and let it go through her nostrils. "While I cannot enjoy social functions, I am sure that going to church wouldn't be frowned upon."

"I can't imagine anyone would frown upon anyone going to church." And he certainly wouldn't frown on her engaging in social events. He didn't believe in all this mourning etiquette nonsense. It needlessly complicated life and was usually expensive as well. Just another way in which simple people tried to imitate the upper class, if you asked Tobias. As if they were something to be imitated.

He wrapped his hands together on his knee. "Did... you make friends in Whitby?" It seemed she was a lonely soul, and from what she had briefly revealed before, he suspected there was a dark story behind it, too.

"My husband picked my friends," she said softly. "I don't know why but he didn't want me to be seen with anyone that wasn't of his choosing." That, she thought, and they were people who looked the other way when certain things were happening. Her eyes half closed and she murmured, "Everything had to be just so."

She gave a sad smile. To be honest, none of those people chosen to be in her life really gave a damn. Nobody showed up to place a hand on her shoulder when the babe died. To be honest, she was probably one of the loneliest souls in Whitby.

"I would love to go to church with you," she said.

That disturbed Tobias. Another suggestion that her husband hadn't been all that great a guy, mildly put. He glanced down at his hands and then back up to her. "Good. Well, none of that here. There's one or two people in town I'd tell ye to steer clear of. But otherwise, I would encourage ye to make friends."

She gave a slight nod. "Perhaps I can..." Iris looked cautiously hopeful. She then said very softly, "Perhaps your family can count on me as a friend by the time the baby is old enough to eat what we do. I would not mind seeing her every now and then after I go. It would please me greatly to see how well she is doing. She's such a precious child and a joy." And she meant every word. What she really wanted was for HIM to be her friend, but directing her friendship solely on him and not focusing on the family as a whole would be improper, and that wouldn't do. Of course, the other unsaid thing left unsaid was that she loved Emma. That was a secret she would keep to herself for the time being.

That made him uneasy. His family was complicated enough as it was. He didn't like the idea of this woman growing too attached to his daughter, or his daughter to the wetnurse. He still hoped his wife would come to her senses and be a mother. And yet he didn't have the heart to tell her no when he had just learned how friendless and ill-treated she was. He smiled. "We'll see, but I don't see why not," he said, oblivious to any hidden intentions or the dangers of encouraging them.

She looked down at her hands for a moment, quietly ruminating their conversation. She felt a spark of warmth grow in her belly when he smiled. He wasn't a bad looking man, and he didn't look like the type that would hurt her. And then it hit her that she may have revealed too much of herself and she seemed to shrink back into the shell she had grown around her, feeling as though she had torn her clothes off in front of the man and sat there naked and exposed.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking, "Perhaps I said too much." She cleared her throat.

Tobias bit the inside of his lip uneasily. He looked at his hands. She had managed to make it even more awkward. The standing clock near the stairs chimed nine mercifully. He shook his head. "Not at all, Mrs. Carpenter. Not more than what ye've seen of the mess in this house, so I suppose we're even." He gave her a wry smile. Then he rose. "We ought to be in bed." He took a candle from a stand near the fireplace, lit it, put it in a holder and handed it to Mrs. Carpenter. "You go ahead. I'll put out the lamps."