Bill listened to her quietly. He reddened a little when she mentioned the shouting. It wasn't something he was proud of when he reflected on it, even less when someone else mentioned it.

The fair maiden and dragons bit only reaffirmed how much of a child she was. And yet, he felt he understood her meaning. The girl had spoken about being miserable at home. Bill had seen what the brother had done to Joe. Could he treat his own blood as horribly? And he had met the father and that hadn't left a good impression. A recovering alcoholic by Bill's crude observations. How much had the family suffered under that? Bill had seen enough alcoholic husbands and fathers back in North Shields and later in Whitby, to imagine what the poor child might have suffered. And even sober, Mr. Carrington had seemed the most utterly useless piece of self-pity Bill had ever come across. He had sent his servants to investigate, yes... But if Ruth or Kate had been kidnapped, Bill would have been out there looking for her himself and with hopes of closing his fingers around the neck of the bastard who took her. There was the murderer brother too. How long had he terrorized the household? What kind of miseries had this poor child faced in her short life? Perhaps he had been too harsh on Joe. Joe was an idiot, yes, but an idiot with a heart of gold, as Bill had always known him.

"Och, lass, I know 'e didn't mean harm... And neither did you. I don't blame ye. I only meant, it ain't right for a man to marry a woman when 'e doesn't even 'ave a job to support 'er or a 'ouse to put a roof over 'er head. And ye are both so young. I'm sorry yer own folk didn't treat ye well, though. Aye, our Joe never could see anyone sufferin' and not do sum't."

She took another chip, and maybe a few more. And though she enjoyed the fish, she seemed to be examining the fried spuds before she ate them. The way she seemed to test it out was something she did without really thinking. She liked the fish too as much as it didn't agree with her. She looked to him again after she ate her forkful.

This is where her life experience came in. "I understand why that would cause you and others distress and discomfort for this situation. But I've already lived with money... I've been trying to tell people that my father started out a pauper and worked his way up to the riches he has now... And yet his legacy is crumbling beneath him." Pearl paused and met his gaze assuming he was looking at her, and then said, "I would endure being a pauper over being rich any day for the love of a man like Joe. He makes me feel rich when we're together. The way he simply holds my hand is worth much more than a life of luxury. I have faith in him, too, much more than even he knows. I have faith that he will do the best he can by me. And I will look for work too because it really doesn't bother me to get my hands dirty." Then she showed him the callouses on her fingers with a shy sort of smile. "I want to do right by him too."

Bill ate a little as she spoke. He would usually eat fish and chips with his hands. It was much easier. But for the young lady present, he tried to tackle the meal with a fork. He frowned when she talked of her father having been a 'pauper' but let her speak.

"Neither of ye will be 'paupers', lassie. We wouldn't let ye go hungry or deprive ye of a roof over yer head so long as Joe can't provide for ye yet. But as for yerself, ye might 'ave bairns soon." The kind of things he did not want to think too hard about. "That would make it 'arder to bring in money. And ye shouldn't 'ave to. Not if Joe finds a steady job." Which he still wished the lad had sought before marrying her.

"I meant it hypothetically," she said, but smiled because of what he said anyway. It was nice to know she had people to call family now even after all that had happened. Things were slowly melding into place instead of imploding yet again. She looked down then and said, "I know..." and then paused to think about it, but then cast the thought aside for the moment, not wanting to face such a thing just yet. She knew that it would happen one day or another and she wanted to make sure she was a good mother. Her eyes kind of grew distant and her brow puckered... She wanted to do better than what she had been brought up with. "One day," she agreed then, and put her fork down after eating a few more bites of fish, it was a few bites too many. The fish lingered a bit longer in her cheek than she intended. Please don't gag, she thought... please... please... don't.... She chanted the mantra in her thoughts and managed to swallow the bites with several delicate and reluctant swallows. There, that wasn't so bad...

"What is your favorite pastry, da?" she changed the subject to something lighter, thinking they'd both had enough of the deep conversation. Of course, unless he spoke about it, she wouldn't mentioned what they spoke about. She was tentative when approaching him at first but now she felt a bit more comfortable. Not too comfortable, but comfortable. "I'll make it for you if you'd like."

Her face seemed to change. For a moment it seemed like she withdrew into herself. Had he said something wrong? He ignored the question and offer. Something was wrong. "Are ye alright, love?" he asked with a frown.

Her stomach was gurgling enough for Bill to probably hear. She bit her lip and murmured, "Um, I..." Then she bolted up and was outside because that was the closest place for her to throw up. Even after she closed the door, she wretched loudly enough that it was muffled through the door. It would be a few minutes before she was able to come back in, looking pretty well worn out after what just occurred. She sat down and tried to look as dignified as possible, through her neck was red with chagrin.

For a horrible second he feared that she was going to be sick all over the fish and chips. Instead, she ran outside. Disaster averted.

Bill didn't give her the few minutes though. Realising that she was unwell, he followed her out. The smile and smell of the vomit made his own stomach turn. He had never been able to handle it well. Lottie had been the one to clean up after the children when they were sick, because Bill would vanish into thin air faster than she could turn around to ask for help.

But there was no Lottie around to handle this, and so he would have to do something. He approached reluctantly. "There now, lassie. Easy."

God, the neighbours.

"Come on, let's get ye in." He helped her get up and guided her in, firmly supporting her by the arms and hoping she hadn't vomited over herself. "Sit down, I'll clean that up." He put the fish and chips away in case it made her sick again - he had lost his own appetite. "Did t' food not agree with ye?" He put the kettle on. Then he took a cloth, poured some cold water over it from a jug, and handed it to her.

<CW> Child Neglect?

She hadn't even realized it until he handed her the wet cloth that she could clean herself up with, not that she got hit by her own vomit, thank God... but he was fathering her. She had the cloth poised at her mouth for a moment as she took in and started to process the scene. Now, one has to give Magnus credit where credit was due, he did father Pearl to a certain extent... but had he ever physically cleaned up after her throwing up? No. Had he ever ushered her to a seat? No... And had he ever really talked to her while she was sick? Or any other time that turmoil was involved, and been calm the whole time? No. Never. Magnus would have looked at her with great disgust at the very sound of her gagging and told a maid to put her to bed before she dirtied the Persian rug he'd just had placed in his domain. And then she got to thinking about all the times he hadn't been there, and that there was more pomp for the times he was there as if he was trying to be acknowledged for being there when he never really... truly was there. Pearl's eyes kind of grew a little darker with the realization that what she had thought of as normal seemed to be a lie. She felt swindled more so in that one moment than she had since everything began to unravel.

"I'm afraid I haven't been feeling myself for a few days," she replied after a long time, her voice low and haggard with the first vomit of her pregnancy that she was in denial about or maybe wasn't recognizing the signs since she'd never been given that talk that all kids need at some point. She looked to Bill and she looked as if she would cry, even her eyes were kind of wet looking, but she was afraid if she cried, he might yell at her to stop being hysterical... In fact, she remembered a few times how he may have said that to her sisters, and what about her mother? It wasn't helping the sour feel in her stomach. She wanted to launch herself at her father in law, bury her face against his shoulder and let it out, but she knew that would just not do. So instead, she sort of just dropped her hands into her lap and started to crumple and tug at the rag while a whole world of hurt and realization went through her way too fast at once.

But in the end, she did break. The girl closed her eyes with a wince when the tears of grief, of anger, of all these things that compounded over the last year alone just came rushing at her all because a man who wasn't her father just fathered her better in one fell swoop than her actual father. "I'm sorry," she said and then as if in a tight squeak, depending on whether he let her or not, she was going to run so he would not see her cry.

Bill did not at first see the changes in her face. He poured some water in a cup and placed it in front of her. Then he searched the cupboards. There might just be some liquorice root in the house. "Ye should 'ave told us, lassie. We could 'ave gotten ye sum't from t' chemist," he said in reply while he searched.

Concluding that there was none, he finally turned around and noticed her face. She looked miserable... "I'll be right back," he said and he went to fetch water from outside and rinsed the vomit away as well as he could. It nearly made him gag, but it had to happen anyway and at least he could give her a moment to calm down without him potentially saying anything that would make it worse.

When he returned, however, she looked like she was even closer to tear. Bill rubbed his lip nervously. Suddenly, his daughter-in-law got up, apologized and ran upstairs. He let her, for he stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds. Then he followed her up and knocked on the door of Joe's room. "Pearl? What's wrong, child?" He was very confused.

She took several moments to come to the door after trying to calm herself. She peeked one eye out and leveled the dark orb at him, lashes spiky and wet at this point and her face a little blotchy. "I didn't mean to worry you. And... I didn't know whether I was just tired or starting to grow ill, so I kept it to myself. I didn't want to be a bother. I didn't want to make myself a problem. I was always doing so-homething wrong even when I was trying not to-hoo. I do'hon't want to be a burden. I do-hon't want to make anyone mad. I do'hon't want to make a mess anymore." And then she broke down again, clearly hurt and worried and just overwhelmed. It all seemed to have just come back to her in full, making her feel like she had made so many mistakes, so many bad things. But to be honest, how could she not when she had been a product of something bad without her even being aware.