Huh. Uriel’s strumpet doubled as a nursemaid, apparently.

When Tristan told Uriel to look away … Zechariah did, too. It was blood. He was already feeling queasy.

“… So,” he said to no one in particular.

The baby was covering a lot of the blood, so his eyes landed on Abraham.

“Quite the rain spell.”

Kitty pinned the arm down so it could be worked on, while she used her other hand to hold Uriel's good hand. "Squeeze my hand, love. Like when we had Abe." She suggested, to give him something to focus the pain on. She watched intently as Tristan worked on the wound, maybe to make sure he wouldn't make a mistake or if something went wrong she could fix it.

She struggled not to roll her eyes at Zechariah, at least he hadn't left when he clearly wanted to. "Is it? Seems normal ta me."

He sat as still as he could, white faced as the needle and thread did the job of pulling the wound shut. Uriel did not pass out, to his credit, this time. He stared at his wife's face, focusing on her and her alone. His eyes met hers and he gave a strained smile. He would be just fine, it was a mere flesh wound. Never again would he pull such a stunt as to try and open a wine bottle for his brother who must be out of his damn mind to get married to a woman who was already tangled in a web of disgrace by being the wife of the Whitby Ripper AND the fact he was a Carrington.

The whole thing came rushing back in reminder and it took all of his self control not to shoot out of the chair and tell his brother what a damned idiot he was being getting himself entangled with Sonia Carrington.

Tristan worked as carefully as he could without compromising in accuracy. "There, it's done," he said, when he had finished the last stitch. He cut the thread, cleaned the area once again, and then bandaged the wound. "I'll come back in five days to remove the stiches and inspect the wound. Change the bandages at least once a day until then, and be careful with farmwork - dirt and animals at least. Wear a glove if you can't avoid them. " He picked a separate container from his bag and placed the used items in there. "Perhaps your brother can help you."

Was that advice necessary? No. But did he care?

“It gets worse every year,” he insisted.

Which might have actually been true, but mostly he was just being dramatic.

Blissfully unaware of how much of his own horror he’d neatly dropped onto Uriel’s lap in his stead, Zechariah instead contemplated the baby. Could he be in the same room as one without leading to its death? It had been … Zechariah checked his pocket watch. He had no idea how long it had been, but it had been three seconds longer yet!

“Noah is his farmhand,” Zechariah answered, lackadaisical.

That was who he was referring to, was it not? Even the barely-washed doctor (who had just repeatedly washed) could not be so daft!

Kitty gave Uriel a small smile though she constantly looked back to their child on the table as if he could go flying at any moment. As soon as the doctor finished, she scooped up the baby into her arms and nodded to him. "Thank ya so kindly for your help and hurryin' over, doc. If there's any trouble, ya'll be notified." She smiled though cast her brother-in-law a dark glance. "Not ta worry, we will get him taken care of, one way or another. His brother should count his blessins if he is ever allowed back."

She stood slowly, wincing as she did. "Why don't ya be kind and pay the doctor, and I can show him out." She wasn't speaking to Uriel, her eyes were centered on Zechariah with the unspoken words that he'd been so much trouble, he could try to make it up by this small step.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said tiredly, shooting his brother a glance that was more like a dark glower. "I've got this, my love," he said with a mutter. He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out the money he carried with him in his breast pocket for occasions that called for it. He would explain later why he let his brother off the hook, but for now, he just wanted to shoo everyone out that didn't live there. There had been enough fucking chaos for one lifetime jampacked into a day.

Noah had been quiet, just supporting Mr. Meijer in case he fainted, and watching the grown ups argue. He had looked away during the stitching but had found his eyes wandering back out of curiosity. Then he would turn them away again, when he realized he did not enjoy that sight.

"Aye, I will work 'arder," he quickly affirmed when Mr. Meijer's brother mentioned him.

Wait. He shouldn't give them the impression that he wasn't already working his hardest. Too late.

Mr. Zechariah Meijer wasn't well liked by his family, was he? Perhaps Tristan should pity him after all. But then again, he had more than a sneaking suspicion that it was the man's own behaviour that was at the root of this barely veiled hostility.

Either way, he was glad to leave as quickly as possible. He observed the wincing from Mrs. Meijer however, and so when he had taken the money, he turned to her. "Please go rest, ma'am." That baby did not look old. He turned to Mr. Uriel Meijer as he put his hat back on. "Please see to it that she does." He nodded at them and then left.

For all the insult Kitty intended Zechariah, it mostly soared over his head. Of course she would expect him to foot the bill, she was Uriel’s problem as surely as Uriel was his. He already had his checkbook out when Uriel brandished his. Wordlessly, he tucked it back in. Good on Uriel, being financially responsible!

Zechariah nodded sagely to Noah’s admission promise.

He let out a sigh of relief before Dr. Wells had even fully opened the door in his departure.

There was an awkward moment as he looked between the blood, the children, and the couple before him.

“Well. Good seeing you, Uriel. I can stop by another time.”