Rebecca sighed as she watched Arabella go off in a huff. The girl needed help and so did Bridget, who was now asking about some cake.
Matt smiled and went off to get some for her and that only left Rebecca and Ben to look after Bridget. Seeing no real chance for escape, Ben sat down in the chair that had been vacated by Arabella. "Well, Aunt Rebecca now you've met two of Kalispell's young ladies, what do you think?"
Looking over to Bridget, she smiled, "Mr. Wentworth is getting your cake...it won't be too long." She then turned to Ben, "What I think is that some young ladies in Kalispell need help."
"Help in what way," Ben asked, partially suspecting what the answer would be.
"Oh, in just the rudimentary things such as social etiquette," she mused, "I have feeling that Arabella is only the tip of the iceberg." She neglected to mention Bridget as she didn't want to alarm the poor girl who seemed content waiting for her cake to come.
Want... dolls!
Arabella stormed out of the hotel shaking her head at Matt Wentworth’s rude behavior. What did he have against her?! Mrs Wentworth seemed nice, but the lady needed help with sorting out her unruly sons.
Rebecca sighed as she watched Arabella go off in a huff. The girl needed help and so did Bridget, who was now asking about some cake.
“Cake!” repeated Bridget, smiling. Smiling always seemed to make people do exactly what she wanted them to. The big man with the patent leather hair and the nice suit seemed to respond suitably. She marked him down as a soft touch, like she'd done with people when she'd been a beggar. Not in so many words in her head; but he would be a good person to approach for anything, like Lorenzo. The one called ‘Fancy Pants’ by Arabella looked a little harder.
Matt smiled and went off to get some for her and that only left Rebecca and Ben to look after Bridget. Seeing no real chance for escape, Ben sat down in the chair that had been vacated by Arabella. "Well, Aunt Rebecca now you've met two of Kalispell's young ladies, what do you think?"
Looking over to Bridget, she smiled, "Mr. Wentworth is getting your cake...it won't be too long."
Bridget smiled and nodded. She knew that, she wasn’t stupid. Those who knew her best knew that she was, well, not exactly clever or intelligent, but sort of sly in a fox-like instinctive way. In fact, Mr Fa sometimes called her a ‘Fox Spirit’, and the notoriously tight-fisted and money mad Lorenzo Crabbe somehow found himself shelling out fistfuls of gold dollars on hats, dresses, dolls, even a pony and trap for the manipulative girl. Well, technically Janella was a mule but Bridget didn’t know the difference and everybody else that knew her had been sworn to secrecy on the matter.
She then turned to Ben, "What I think is that some young ladies in Kalispell need help."
"Help in what way," Ben asked, partially suspecting what the answer would be.
Bridget tipped her head, listening too.
"Oh, in just the rudimentary things such as social etiquette," she mused, "I have feeling that Arabella is only the tip of the iceberg." She neglected to mention Bridget as she didn't want to alarm the poor girl who seemed content waiting for her cake to come.
When they looked at her, she smiled. She tried to remember these words, but they were hard. “Ettyket” “Eyesburg” “Ettyket” “Eyesburg” “Ettyket” “Eyesburg” She’d try and get Arabella or Mr Fa to explain them later. They were good at explaining, they would act out the meaning for her. For instance, Arabella would say, ‘Well this is drinkin’ yer coffee without Ettyket”… and act like a barbarian quaffing down his beer, “… and this is WITH Ettyket, and then act like a princess taking the minutest sips of a miniscule china cup with her pinky finger pointed directly outward, and she would get it.
On the other hand, if she asked Lorenzo the same question, he would inevitably reply “I’ll tell you what Ettiquette is, Bridg’, it’s a pile of horseshit!” Which seemed to be his dictionary definition of most things in life.
Matt brought the cake, she did that pathetic sort of grateful and delighted smile that seemed to melt most people’s hearts.
Then Crabbe appeared.
“Howdy folks!” he beamed, taking off his hat and bowing a little to Mrs Wentworth. “Hope this young lady ain’t been eatin’ you all out of house and home!”
"Work is fine for killin' time, but it's a shaky way to make a living."
"No she hasn't, " Ben said in a slightly amused tone. "In fact the cake has only just arrived. Bridget's friend Arabella was here for a while telling us her's and Bridget's stories."
He looked at his aunt briefly, before turning back to to Crabbe, "May I introduce to my aunt, Mrs. Rebecca Wentworth. Aunt Rebecca, Mr. Lorenzo Crabbe."
After the introductions had been made, Ben sat down again. It was going to be an interesting conversation, especially since they had been informed by Arabella about Crabbe's current endeavours. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long.
Rebecca nodded, "Mr. Crabbe, I hear you saved Bridget from a terrible misfortune and that you have been taking care of her since then. I also was told that you are now a photographer here in Kalispell."
No she hasn't, " Ben said in a slightly amused tone. "In fact the cake has only just arrived. Bridget's friend Arabella was here for a while telling us her's and Bridget's stories.
“Mudd? I need to see that girl. Got a little job she can help me with. Might have to risk sticking my head into that saloon.” Crabbe ruminated out loud.
He looked at his aunt briefly, before turning back to to Crabbe, "May I introduce to my aunt, Mrs. Rebecca Wentworth. Aunt Rebecca, Mr. Lorenzo Crabbe."
The older lady didn’t offer a hand to shake, kiss or arm-wrestle with, so Crabbe contented himself with an ingratiating bow and a surprised “Aunt? Why Simons, I assumed this was your younger sister! Well it’s a pleasure Mam, a real pleasure.” He murmured, oozing unctuous and unconvincing charm.
Rebecca nodded, "Mr. Crabbe, I hear you saved Bridget from a terrible misfortune and that you have been taking care of her since then. I also was told that you are now a photographer here in Kalispell."
“Well, Ma’m…” Crabbe spoke in intimate tones as he took a seat next to the Matriarch of the Clan Wentworth “… people will tell you a lot of things about me, many of them quite untrue or wildly exaggerated, especially a certain imaginative little girl called Arabella Mudd, but it is true I saved this here waif and stray from the hands of a most vile molester and took the burden of her care onto my own already careworn shoulders. But how could I not, just look at her! That simple, angelic face.” He looked up to see Bridget trying to cram an enormous piece of cake into her mouth in one go.
"I certainly agree that Miss Arabella Mudd has a lively imaginative. I have no doubt what she says has an element of truth but the need to exaggerate could be very worrying for her guardians. If she's not careful, her stories might get her into trouble one day."
Rebecca watched in mild surprise as Bridget ate her cake. It was all right to do that sort of thing in private if you wish to do so but in public it was not appropriate. An idea had begun formulating in her head but she needed to think it about more before she divulged it to a total stranger. She had to find out what type of man and what his exact living conditions where Bridget was concern before she could approach him.
"Mr. Crabbe, am I right in guessing that you are the sole income earner and if this is case, how does Bridget fare when you are at work? Does she go to school?"
"Mr. Crabbe, am I right in guessing that you are the sole income earner and if this is case, how does Bridget fare when you are at work? Does she go to school?"
Crabbe listened carefully to the questions that Rebecca was asking, as much the tone as the words themselves. This old bat was after something, but what? The last one made him laugh, despite himself.
“School? Well…” he looked at Bridget, who was masticating the cake even as she was still shoving it into her mouth, getting crumbs everywhere, and then turned his magnified eyes back to the proper-looking lady on the other side of the table “… you do realise that the girl is a complete cretin, don’t you? I mean, we only just got her to be able to talk out loud, before that she’d just whisper in people’s ears. It was kinda un-nerving, you know?”
To be honest, that was Charlie Fa and Arabella’s doing, that therapy, he’d have been content for the ginger sponger to keep her trap shut forever.
“Besides, we don’t rightly know how old she is, but I worked out she must be about, ohhh… nineteen years of age or so, she’d kinda stick out in a school room.” He wondered what the hell the teacher and the other kids in the class would make of her. Probably just use the big dummy as a door stop. What had Mrs Wentworth’s other question been? Oh, money and who looked after Bridget. Well, actually the three of them were pretty well set up moneywise and any girl who could survive as a one legged cripple on the streets of Helena didn’t need him to look after her. However, he decided to go with the flow and see where the Wentworth Matriarch was trying to steer this boat to.
“I’m the sole breadwinner, Mrs Wentworth, and I don’t mind telling you it’s been hard this last year, trying to take care of Bridget. Many’s a time I’ve had to go out to find a hard earned crust and had to leave this poor simple minded soul to her own devices. Then sometimes I’d come home and find she’d escaped and gone wanderin’ off, into heavens knows what dangers.” He shook his head sadly “It’s been a worry and a strain, I don’t mind telling you, Ma’m. You know there’s some pretty nasty characters out there in the big wide world’d take advantage of a pretty girl like that, that don’t have much brains.”
Bridget looked at Crabbe with interest, as she always did when he was lying, wondering what he was up to, she also glanced at the person being lied to, sometimes they looked suspicious, sometimes they looked believing, especially if the lie was to their taste.
Rebecca thought about what Crabbe had told her. She couldn't tell if he was lying or not but what he said had an element of truth, but she did find out something. Bridget was another young lady that was left to her devices and had no real guidance in social manners. There were times she wished having the right social manners didn't matter but unfortunately if you wanted to be accepted by the general population you had to know them.
As for Crabbe, she would quiz Ben about him later when they were in private. Her nephew might be able to tell her more about his character so that the next time she encountered Crabbe, she would be able to distinguish the truth from the lies.
Seeing that there was no more to be said until she had more information and was able to work out a plan, she decided that it was time go. "Well, thank you Mr. Crabbe for enlightening me about Bridget's situation but I must be going, I promised to visit the president of the ladies society and have lunch at her home."
She turned to Bridget, "It was lovely meeting and I do hope we can get to know each other better."
Seeing that there was no more to be said until she had more information and was able to work out a plan, she decided that it was time go. "Well, thank you Mr. Crabbe for enlightening me about Bridget's situation but I must be going, I promised to visit the president of the ladies society and have lunch at her home."
Crabbe stood and holding his hat in his hand gave another little bow, he knew when he was being told to scram, if in the politest of terms. “Must be goin’ myself Mam, but it was such a darlin’ pleasure to meet you today.” He smarmed. To bridget, he gave a curt “Come on you. You’ve eaten all the cake, might as well get you home and brush all them crumbs off of your dress.”
The ginger girl managed to get up off her seat on her one good leg, shoving the penultimate piece of Victoria sponge into her maw with one hand, and grabbing the last piece with the other, a truly spectacular and acrobatic feat.
She turned to Bridget, "It was lovely meeting and I do hope we can get to know each other better."
“MMM MM” replied the girl, through a mouthful of half chewed cake. Crabbe gave them all an ingratiating smile and dragged her off by the arm.
As if waiting for the retreat of the oily Mr. Crabbe and the imbecilic Miss Monahan, a tall distinguished gentleman sporting a neatly trimmed beard now appeared at the table trailed by a demure looking girl of angelic aspect. He clearly knew and was well known by Matt, if not the other two.
“Mr Wentworth, Sir, Madam.” He nodded to each in turn, while his daughter stood politely back, whist watching the retreating Bridget’s back with that icy glance that girls reserve for potential love rivals.
“Please forgive this unwarranted intrusion, Madam, but my name is Richard Orr, the Postmaster of this town and a business acquaintance of your husband, and I hope he would say a warm acquaintance.” He explained, handing her his card. “This is my daughter, Anaesthesia.” The girl mentioned gave a textbook curtsey and looked modestly down when Matt and Ben turned to her.
“Your husband was kind enough to encourage me to ask a small favor of you, Mrs Wentworth, er, my daughter here is to celebrate her eighteenth birthday soon and we are throwing a small party, oh nothing ostentatious of course, just a small tasteful gathering. Well, er, Anaesthesia has got it into her head that she would like some young people there.” He said this as if the girl had demanded something outlandish, like circus performers or a choir of Swiss yodellers, to be present.
He held out his hands a little, imploringly. “Unfortunately, the only young people she knows are, well, not quite suitable, you understand. Her school friends were, I’m afraid, from rather the low end of the social scale, the Lutzes and Wigfalls and Fitzherberts of the town. Oh, good people in their way, I suppose, but lacking a certain social polish.”
He finally got around to what he wanted to say.
“Well, er, Charles, er, Mr. Wentworth mentioned that you have a son not too much older than Anaesthesia, Mr. Charles Wentworth Junior, who might be willing to grace the event with his very welcome presence, I have the invitation here, er, somewhere…” he felt about himself for the thing, a little flustered.
The birthday girl herself stepped neatly forward and handed him the thing. She said nothing though, of course, children were to be seen and not heard.
“… ah, yes, thank you dear” He handed the rather fancy looking envelope, white tipped with silver, over to Rebecca.
“I realise that the young man might feel rather shy to visit with complete strangers, but I am hoping that a mother’s influence might help smooth things along.” He added, hopefully.
Rebecca took the invitation and acknowledged both people, "Mister Orr, Miss Orr."
Having listened to what the man had said, Rebecca smiled, "I believe my husband has mentioned you." She didn't need to tell him that it was only in regards to who ran the post office while Charles had been telling her who's was who and what was what in Kalispell. There was no other mention of the man or his family, so the request of her son Charlie to attend a birthday party came as a surprise.
"Thank you for the invitation. Although I can't speak for my son as I am not sure if he will be in town on the day as he works at Lost Lake Ranch. As you would know that is some distance from town but I will be sure to give it to him the next time I see him which should be in a day or two."