Brendan watched Bridget go to the window to look for the eavesdropping Arabella, then focused his attention on Mrs. Wentworth as she gave him a little update on Bridget. It sounded like she was recovering physically after the fever, but there wasn't a lot mentioned about her mental state, besides what Mrs. Wentworth had already mentioned about forgetting things.
That was good, wasn't it? Maybe in time she'd get to where she could live more independently. But that time wasn't yet, obviously. Bridget seemed very attached to Bonnie Campbell, who was watching over Bridget like a mother hen, even following her over to the window.
Finally the call for tea was given. Food was exactly what Brendan wanted right about now. He jumped up, went over to Bridget, and held out his arm. "C'mon, Bridget. Let's go drink tea."
That was not the most gentlemanly thing he could have said, but Bridget wouldn't mind. Like him, she'd be happy just to get to be together no matter what the circumstances.
@ [Javia]
@ [JulieS
Want... dolls!
Seeing that Bridget was still pre-occupied with trying to find Arabella, Bonnie got up and went over to her. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and gently whispered, "We can go and look for Arabella later but for now it's time for afternoon tea. Brendan is waiting to take you to the dining room?"
"Ar'bella!" Bridget repeated, pointing to the window, but then turned and added "Brendan" and clunked over to him with her wooden leg.
Finally the call for tea was given. Food was exactly what Brendan wanted right about now. He jumped up, went over to Bridget, and held out his arm. "C'mon, Bridget. Let's go drink tea."
"Cake!" said Bridget happily, but then started breathing heavily, which she tended to do when she had to summon up courage to refuse to do something. She huffed and puffed a little and then told Brendan, with a frown, "No TEA!... Umpat'rick!" This was Arabella's disruptive influence: she had often lectured her friend Bridget on the unpatriotic evils of tea drinking. 'What would George Washington and Benjamin Franklin think if they knew that a hundred years after the War of Independence, that their descendants were drinking that hated British tea?!!" she had reasoned, quite vehemently.
OOC: Popping in a reply for Brendan so Bonnie and the Wentworths can respond to both him and Bridget.
"Huh?" Brendan squinted at Bridget as he tried to decipher the word she'd said. That she didn't want tea was clear enough, but why? Poor illiterate Brendan had never heard the word "unpatriotic" before, and had certainly never had it directed at him. But whether he knew it or not, he needed to set Bridget's mind at ease about the tea.
"You don't have to drink any," he said soothingly, reaching out to touch her shorn red hair. "Tea just means sittin' and talkin'. And cake," he finished with a grin as he looked to Bonnie. "Ain't that right, Miss Campbell?"
He wasn't sure he liked tea, anyway. Coffee did a better job of putting new life in his veins than tea would. But this "tea" was so he could spend time with Bridget and so the Wentworths could scrutinize him.
"Brendan is quite right, Bridget. You don't have to have any tea but if you would like something to drink, then I am sure Mrs. Jefferson will get you a glass of milk."
Rebecca smiled warmly at her young ward and at the same time she held her displeasure of Arabella's influence. Bridget usually had no qualms with tea but it seemed the appearance of her friend had triggered a memory and thus the apprehension. Tomorrow, Arabella would be forgotten and Bridget would go back to drinking tea.
What Bridget could or couldn't remember worried her. While it was true that Bridget could remember things when she had the right trigger, it was also true that she could easily forget things, especially if she was distracted. Living here, Bridget didn't have that problem as there was always someone around to help her to keep her focus but what would happened to her if she went to live with Brendan? The young man would have to spend hours at work each day in order just to support her and there was no way he could afford help. It was another thing to put under consideration.
After accepting her husband's arm, Rebecca led the group into the dining room where the table was laden with a few cakes and cookies. Normally, afternoon tea would be held in the parlour but since today was a much larger group, the dining room seemed more appropriate.
When they were all seated, Rebecca looked over to Brendan, "Mister Wentworth isn't quite fond of tea and so we have coffee if you prefer that," she said as she casually pointed to the coffee pot.
Want... dolls!
"Brendan is quite right, Bridget. You don't have to have any tea but if you would like something to drink, then I am sure Mrs. Jefferson will get you a glass of milk."
"Milk" Bridget nodded. Not that bad tea.
When they were all seated, Rebecca looked over to Brendan, "Mister Wentworth isn't quite fond of tea and so we have coffee if you prefer that," she said as she casually pointed to the coffee pot.
Bridget smiled at Mr Wentworth. Not only did he sensibly avoid the unpatriotic drink, but he reminded her of the before times: when she used to wander the streets, looking for dropped pennies, and then taking them to be banked. She always asked to see him, even though he was the manager and theoretically above such things, he was always so kind and gentle with the simple girl.
@Bailey
@JulieS
What luck! The Wentworths had coffee. Brendan's eyes lit up, and he nodded in appreciation to Mrs. Wentworth.
"Thank you. I think I'm partial to coffee too," he said, reaching out to fill a cup up with the coffee. It was such a tiny, dainty cup compared to the tin cups he was used to. Although he normally drank his coffee black, he decided to take advantage of the sugar and milk provided to dress up his coffee a little.
He plunked a few sugar cubes into the cup and watched as the milk turned his coffee a paler tan color, then turned his attention back to his hosts.
"I been thinkin' I ought to open an account at your bank, Mr. Wentworth. I never had anythin' I needed to save money for before. But now..." He grinned at Bridget. "I gotta be like Bridget and save every penny."
The thought of saving enough money to buy a piece of land of his own or to support Bridget -- how much money would that even take? -- was daunting, but that was what he thought he needed to do at the moment.
@ [JulieS]
@ [Javia
No one is as important enough to walk wherever he wants. He's bound to run into something that will stop him.
Charles nodded as he listened to Brendan expressing his interest in opening a bank account. "That's very commendable of you. I hope you put the money you save to good use."
He and his wife were still not sure if Brendan was up to the task or in fact, knew what the task really was where Bridget was concerned. Brendan seemed to be genuine in his intentions now but what in the future?
Shortly after taking custody of Bridget, Charles had done some investigating into Brendan's background. There were certainly a lot stories about the young man and the facts such as his employment history and where he had lived were easily verified. It was the things that couldn't be checked that were more concerning. Even if most of them turned out to be a lie they based on fact such as Brendan's relationship with the saloon singer, Caroline Mundee. Everyone knew that Brendan shared a room with her for some time but what happened in that room ran the full gamut from nothing to something.
Of course, now was not the time to find these things. What he and Rebecca wanted to see now was how he interacted Bridget and afterwards if Bridget would remember this visit at all.
Want... dolls!
Of Bridget's behaviour at the tea table, there is little to say except that she was multitasking: at the same time as she was cramming as much cake into her mouth as possible, she was turning and grinning incessantly at Brendan and her non-cake-cramming hand was feeling his muscly thigh beneath the dangling table cloth.
***
Meanwhile, a couple of blocks away, very little work was getting done at the drapers: Brendan's little band of partisan supporters was deep in conjecture about how the affair might be progressing. Jemima and Arabella having just come back from their reconnaissance mission.
"Well, I only saw in for a second before they spotted me and 'Mima had to run off with me still on her shoulders..." Miss Mudd started her report "... but I gotta say, he looked kinda nervous and awkward. Bridge looked OK, considering how cruel I bet they're treating her there!" she prattled on, slanderously. "Especially that Bonnie" chimed in Jemima, with her usual jealousy of those annoyingly pretty-pretty type women, like Lucina Dietrich, who tended to steal away all the handsome men around these parts.
Mr Pettigrew fiddled with his fob, a worried frown across his balding brow, and his comb-over all awry.
"Oh I do wish that young man had allowed me to accompany him on this most delicate occasion. He must impress, he must take the initiative! He must convince those people that he has the acumen and the foresight to provide for Miss Monahan's very particular needs."
Jemima and Arabella nodded sadly, knowing that the lovable, handsome lunk was not as equipped to sooth the Wentworths in the same way as he was able to sooth a savage unbroken bronco.
Arabella cheered herself up by throwing her arms around Miriam with a cry of "Oh!! If anyone ever tried to take you away from me, Dolly, I'd fight tooth and nail to get you back" she hugged her tight and gave the shopgirl a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. Mr Pettigrew was not phased in the slightest by this display of affection, he was merely slightly glum that he had to be a little more circumspect with his displays of affection toward the new man in his life; but for her part, Jemima couldn't help pulling a face of disapproval.
@[Julie]
Wayfarer if you want to, no pressure
"I'll sure try to put it to good use." Brendan took a bracing swallow of his coffee and wished, not for the first time this afternoon, that the Wentworths had something a little stronger than coffee.
But it wasn't as though he really needed liquid courage. So far the tea seemed to be going smoothly.
Brendan glanced down at Bridget's hand and shifted in his seat, clearing his throat softly. He surreptitiously moved his own hand to intercept hers before it could go anywhere more sensitive. As he folded his fingers around hers, he gave her a smile that had melted girls' hearts before.
While he had this time with Bridget, he ought to use it to talk to her, to see how she was doing. But he realized he didn't know enough about her to really talk to her like that. He didn't know anything about her interests. However, he did know she liked food and she liked him. Surely that was enough for a conversation starter.
"Hey, Bridge, I got a job now. You remember Mr. Kaaufman from the butcher shop?" It was debatable that she did, but Brendan forged ahead. "I work there. So anytime you have some broth or stew, or a nice cube steak or even a roast, it comes from me." He was making himself hungry.
Want... dolls!
"Hey, Bridge, I got a job now. You remember Mr. Kaaufman from the butcher shop?" It was debatable that she did, but Brendan forged ahead.
She frowned and shook her head at the name although, had she seen Brendan's boss in the flesh, she would have recognised him as Miriam Kaufmann's daddy. Miriam was lucky: she had a mommy and a daddy, and as well as Bridget there was another younger son and daughter. Arabella told her that the Kaufmanns thought of her as a daughter too: 'Oh Bridge, I'm like the glamourous, intelligent daughter they never had!!' she cooed to the uncomprehending redhead.
"I work there. So anytime you have some broth or stew, or a nice cube steak or even a roast, it comes from me." He was making himself hungry.
Bridget gave a delighted giggle, but it was pretty clear that she didn't have slightest clue what he was talking about. She looked around at everyone at the table. "Love Bren'an!!" she almost shouted, so pleased was she to have him at her side.