Ruth was alone, Jacob having been left home with Eleanor so she could have time to breathe. The basket was empty as she approached the first stall, gazing at the trinkets, some that reminded her of conversations with Edward Blackwood. She lifted a small clock and examined it, admiring the craftsmanship. She could afford it if she wanted to buy it; she had saved her money up good and well since being in the employ of the Blackwood family. She looked to the vendor, a chubby cheeked older man with a red face and a jolly disposition. She asked for a price and he must have seen something in how she handled the piece that made him undersell the piece, but she only paid a few pence and no more at his insistence.

She thanked him for the trinket and stepped away, gazing at the object before tucking it away into the bottom of the basket. She drifted toward the smell of street food, purchasing a few Scotch eggs, tucking one away and nibbling on the second. Once she was done with her meal, she fully intended to look about for some clothes that would fit her better now that she had changed in her figure with the birth of her son.

For the moment, however, she was content to have some time to herself.

Mary stood on the threshold of the shop, enjoying the sea breeze for a moment. Unlike a cobbler or greengrocer, there were long stretches of time in a jewlers spent waiting for trade. This job had been a godsend for Mary, allowing her to enjoy the sea air and spend time with her daughter. She also worked across classes as everyone needed rings, necklessess, broaches, etc. The wealthy entered, bought their baubles, and left. Poorer folk gazed with longing through the windows. Occassionally, the boldest of the poor tried a robbery, but Mary could usually spot those with theiving in their eyes and make them leave before thier fingers got too sticky.

A townswoman with oak coloured hair approached, the cut of her clothes suggested worker, but not Madam or Madame.

"Something shiny for ye this morning, dear?" Mary asked in a rolling scots brogue.

She started, so lost in her thoughts was she. It had been decided in her heart that she would never admit her feelings to Edward, that he would never be more than her friend. She had to close her heart to the possibilities her mind had whipped up in the time it took for her to get to know the man. Ruth was tired already of the way her heart hurt and for her own mistakes in that regard. If she had taken the time to get to know Angus, he would never have given her Jacob. That was the one and only thing she did not regret, for she loved her son so dearly that anyone could see it radiating in her eyes whenever she gazed upon his chubby face and his eyes that would certainly gain laugh lines early in life for how happy he seemed. She could no longer accept a world without her son and would protect him with every fiber of her being without trying to be overbearing. So far, he had a whole village of people who also loved him, people who took her in and gave her something productive to do.

But I digress back to the present moment. Ruth saw an attractive lass before her who spoke with a brogue. She could appreciate a good brogue from anyone. "Oh," said the darker haired lass. "Ah, I am sorry. Ye caught me woolgatherin', but I am indeed lookin' fer somethin'. I gave birth to me son some months ago and now me figure is back ta where I am confident I can buy meself a new frock or two, or the fabric ta make them meself." She had a peculiar way of speaking, it was clear that she came from where the rest of the Blackes came from, but that she also spoke in a highly intellectual way as well, perhaps not expected of someone like her but certainly not a singular instance since people had their intelligence in their own way.

"I can't be buyin' anythin' too fancy, ye ken, but I would love ta dress meself in somethin' that at least fits. A blouse and a skirt, perhaps, would be lovely fer Sundays, and then somethin' ta wear on the days I don't work, perhaps a plain day dress will do? If ye'd point me in the right direction fer those things, I'd be much obliged, ma'am."

"Well," Mary began, her tongue sucking gently against the back of her teeth. Hers was not a clothes shop, so she couldn't even name a competitor. "I think there's a shop that sells that sort of thing not far from here. Down the street, turn left. I don't rightly recall the name, might start with an 'R'. "Once ye 'ave yer new wrapper or whatever, ye can come back ta' me fer something that sparkles."

"Oh, uh, I am sure I have enough I could get a bauble. Somethin' for me son, perhaps, for when he's older? A pocketwatch, if ye have one?" She would gladly hold off on buying herself some new clothes if it meant investing in something for Jacob for when he was older. His father certainly wouldn't, even if he somehow got custody of him.