It had been a week since the letter, and some of the money was burning a hole in her reticule. She bit her lip as the temptation of a lovely new gown would boost her spirits greatly. However, she was starting to tire rather quickly of late... and her menses, well... they were late. Joe didn't know it yet, but she was beginning to suspect that she would need to wait for a moment before she had a fine new dress made. She backed away from the shop window, deciding to put off the new clothing until she knew she was, for sure and certainly pregnant. The prospect of it made her feel hopeful, for she knew that her child would not want if she took the offer for work.

There was much to be discussed by the family still, it was an opportunity that was certainly hard to pass up... but a whole year's worth of wages settled neatly in her reticule and she was about to open her own bank account for the very first time. Joe knew of the funds but work for him was very hectic, and he looked so worn out that she had let him sleep. Besides, people would leave her be, would they not? She was no longer desired company. Even now, she ignored the stares of the blueblooded folk who knew her family. She knew the poor folk would appreciate her coin, at least, so she wasn't worried about being turned away from vendors or bankers. Problem was, with bankers, it was not easy to be a woman.

She sighed and then the smell of something hit her. Her eyes widened, and she found some... corner to lose the porridge she'd eaten for breakfast. Oh... Well... that answered that question. She gave herself time to relax from the spasms, then pulled away from the building the mess at the base of the wall. She sighed and kind of just... ambled along until she found a place to sit, which wasn't easy at the moment. The smell of the marketplace was much too overwhelming, and she needed respite. She ducked into the public house closest to her.

Mark had finished for the day and was heading back to see Hortencia when he decides to walk through the town. It wasn't a bad day and he decided to take a shortcut through the market.

He decided quickly get a pint because the heat of the day was starting to creep up and he walked into the nearest public house.

He propped himself at the bar and got himself a pint and sat and relaxed when this young girl came into the bar and he could see by the look on her face she was struggling. He looked to the bar keep and asked. "Glass of water and a glass of lemonade my son!"

It wasn't long before he returned with the two drinks and Mark paid remarking to keep the change. He placed them on a nearby table with his pint before walking over to the young woman. "Breathe through your mouth and out your nose. It will help with the smell. Come on sit down and rest."

She eyed the stranger, but she followed his advice. The young woman sat down heavily, her gut still roiling but settling down little by little. She looked like her mother but also looked like the man who sired her. She was rather pale at the moment but she had her mother's complexion and her hair was as curly as Hortencia had described seeing when the girl had been born. Her eyes were the same dark gaze as her mother's, nearly identical but much more innocent and bright. It was Pearl.

"Thank you," she said, her voice almost identical as well to her mother's. While she could pass for Anne Carrington's youngest child, Pearl Blacke nee Carrington was the young picture of Hortencia with only slight differences and a mop of the richest, brown curls. She took a grateful sip of the water, first. "I suppose now is about time for me to tell my husband," she said to herself more than anything. "A babe... already..." she then laughed in disbelief, though there was a glow that slowly replaced the haze of sickness that comes with being with child. Joe would be so happy... and Lottie. Oh, she saw how Lottie doted upon her grandson, Jacob, and even Pearl had a hard time not falling in love with the boy, herself. She was learning what a loving family really was. They seemed to yell a lot, but their yelling ended up being productive. One thing she could not say about the Blackes is that they did not love each other.

She smiled and spread her free hand over the still, flat area where that baby was starting to grow.

Then she shook her head when she realized that the man still stood there, lemonade in hand. "Oh-oh, I am sorry, Mister....?"

Mark smiled as she sat there. "Harwell, ma'am, Mark Harwell. Whitby harbour master and Lifeboat captain." He handed her the glass of lemonade "drink this slowly. It will help with the nausea. And the water with the heat. You looked like you were about to throw up or collapse. Judging by the way you hold your stomach id say your with child. How far along are you?"

He knew who she was but didn't reveal that just yet. He sat across from her and took a drink from his pint on the table. "Even that smell catches out some of the sturdy seamen. Your better to breath through your mouth when near here.

He held his hand up "rest. Catch your breath and ill walk with you to where ever you are going and make sure you get there ok"

"I was trying to find a bank that would help me. I am not sure what is wrong with a woman opening an account." She grinned and shook her head, "If I threw my father's name around, they'd begrudgingly agree, perhaps... But he's made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me anymore." She frowned, "I am sorry, I should not speak thusly. And... Yes, I think it's brand new, so I cannot be sure yet... But I know when it happened." She blushed. That was, after all, a delicate topic. "But my Joe will be very ecstatic and probably quite frightened to learn of this news." She was a chatty girl when happy, another trait she shared from her mother, it seemed.

"But he's asleep right now, and I thought I would put the money a stranger has given to us... me... An author did. One of my favorites, in fact! Miss Coggins is a wonderful author." She gushed praises to the woman who she was birthed by and she had not one single clue. "If my mother heard of me talking to a stranger in a public house, why, I am sure she would turn quite red." And that suited her just fine by the way her pinky stuck outward while she picked up the lemonade and sipped with a raised brow and an obstinate rolling of her eyes. "I would love to see that," she muttered under her breath.

Mark nodded "would you like to me to speak to the bank manager. Hes a friend of mine. I'm sure we could get the cleared up without any issues and anyone knowing." He handed leaned back and gestured to the bar staff to bring a couple of plates of food over for them and paid for another drink.

Mark raised an eyebrow at the mention of her father and what he'd said. He remembered previous conversations with Hortencia about looking after her.

The food soon arrived along with his second pint and he spoke once more "eat some food. It Will help" he said eating from the second plate.

She sighed, "I would be grateful. It seems that men still cannot see women as intelligent human beings yet... pardon me saying that, and I don't find you among those who treat us with ill intent... But most are not willing to admit that life would be easier if they let women have more freedom." She sniffed. Without question, the girl ate heartily, displaying the appetite of a mother-to-be. It wasn't until she'd already plowed through half of what was on the plate that she froze. Why was he buying food and drink for her? She eyed him suspiciously.

Unable to resist licking the morsel that stuck to her lip instead of using a napkin, she gently set her fork down, her own face reddened slightly. With as much dignity as she could muster, she said, "You must think me without manners. But... then again, I don't know you, Mister Harwell. Is it a good idea for me to be in a public house with you this way?" Then she bit her lip and thought for a moment, remembering then that she had burst into a brothel, this was far from that kind of scandal... this was tame. Her eyes danced with laughter at the memory of the story written about her. She took up her fork, waggled her head back and forth a little and muttered, "I shouldn't care what people think anymore. They cannot think any worse than they already do. Hmph." She then retrieved the fork and stabbed it firmly into a potato.

Mark hate most of his plate and started on his second pint. He replied to her comment "to be fair that's not men that's just bankers being up their own arses. I deal with them most days" he mentioned "I have to deal with customs coming from the ships"

Mark shook his head "your completely safe with me my dear, I wont harm you. And I'd rather you didn't go back home as white as a sheet" he took another drink "nausea is quite common in my line of work so I know how to help with it" He finished his plate and sat back "and No one will say a word in this public house about you or me.......most of them work on the docks in my warehouses"

"You may change your mind, sir. They might talk because I darkened the doorway." She took a bigger bite than was proper, but damn it, she was starving and she just hadn't realized it until the food was getting stuffed into her mouth. She chewed for a long time, her expression both perturbed and thoughtful. She stabbed into that poor potato once again. "I'm the former Pearl Carrington, you know. I've walked into a brothel, I eloped with my husband just about a month and a half ago, and my family is always splashed across the pages of the next scandal sheet." She lifted the fork, and the potato sort of half dangled there since it was cooked to tender and those tended to fall apart on one's fork. She began to gesture, not hard enough to flick missiles of the starchy root, but it did soon fall off the fork altogether without her notice. "I'm a hero to some, and a wretch to most."

She put the empty fork into her mouth, then froze, put the fork back down for a moment and folded her hands in her lap. She was a lady, damn it! "I am not sure what Hortencia Coggins wishes from a person like me. I'd make a terrible companion. I am the very scandal of all of Whitby right now."

Mark shook his head "most of the men in this pub have a past, a history and have put it behind them. Some men came here to avoid prison by one way or another. Either by choice or by the magistrate. There's pickpockets, thief's and a whole host of other criminal down here." He took a drink "so most won't talk because they don't want attention on them"

He thought for a second "so you see my dear. No one will think any less or more of you here. No one expects you to act like a lady. They expect you to act like a person"

He smiled "as someone once told me. Today's newspaper is tomorrow's chip wrapper. It will won't be in the limelight for long"