"Why would these Wentworths be looking out for a girl that you intend to court? From what I've seen so far, you have been respectable and very helpful."
Bonnie frowned as she knew what she was about to say would most likely rile the man but she needed to know where he really stood in regards to Bridget. "It sounds like they like disapprove of you as a suitable match for this girl or you would not be trying so hard to impress them. What happens if they still say no to the match despite all of your efforts...what will you do then? Will you cut your losses and move on like most men would or will you stand and continue to fight for her?"
"Her...uh, guardian, asked them to care for her in his will." Brendan tried to explain why the Wentworths were looking out for Bridget, but the whole situation was so complicated.
He looked down to hide a scowl as Bonnie hit a nerve. "I ain't come courtin' yet, so they can't disapprove of me yet." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His interaction with Mrs. Wentworth made him think that they probably would disapprove of him, but he could still hope to make a favorable impression.
Bonnie's second question hit on an even deeper nerve and even bigger fear--that beyond the Wentworth's disapproval, they wouldn't agree to let him marry Bridget, or take care of her, or maybe even let him see her. That was his biggest fear: not being able to see her again, and her thinking he'd abandoned her.
He clenched his fingers around the counter edge and stared hard at Bonnie, struggling to maintain control of his emotions and facial expression. Of course he would fight for Bridget! Of course he would keep pressing his suit again and again! But...what if he still wasn't good enough? What if the Wentworths still wouldn't give Bridget up?
Finally he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. "I'd keep tryin' first, of course. But if I do everything I can and they still won't have me, then..."
What he really wanted was to respond with an expletive about the Wentworths, but seeing as he was out in public, at work in someone else's store, he just shook his head. "Then I guess I'd have to move on. I want..." He gnawed on his lip as he tried to find the right words. "I want her to be happy and--and provided for. And if the Wentworths can provide for her an' make her happy..."
He spread his arms in a shrug, not knowing what else to say to the woman who had hit on his biggest fear in this whole situation.
Bonnie tilted her head slightly to the left and shrugged her shoulders once. She had heard enough for now and she still had her reservations but Connelly at least deserve the chance to see Bridget again...under supervision of course. There would be no more shenanigans until they got married...that's if they ever did. Bridget needed a lot of looking after and she needed a husband or someone who could do that as well having a deep respect for her. The Wentworths knew that and so did she.
"All right. I'll take eight steaks, a pound of mince," Bonnie replied, "and a half pound of ham if you've got it."
When Brendan had finished the order, she smiled, "Could you please put it on the account of Mister Charles Wentworth, Senior."
She then pulled out a letter from the basket she was carrying and handed it Brendan. "It's an invitation...the Wentworths would like you to come over Sunday afternoon."
Brendan was taken aback by the woman's sudden change of topic from Bridget to meat. In his experience, women didn't like to philosophize without some intention behind the philosophizing, so he'd expected her to...well, not stop philosophizing so quickly.
He scribbled her order down in a messy shorthand he'd developed that mostly consisted of the number of cuts and then a letter to signify what cut. In this case 8S, 1M, 1/2 H. It worked for him, but probably looked like chicken scratch or nonsense to anyone else. Maybe he should ask Abraham to teach him secondhand some of what he was learning in school.
"Yes, ma'am," he said genially as he turned to collect and weigh out the cuts she'd ordered. He was in the process of wrapping the steaks up in butcher paper when she told him whose account to put the meat on.
The Wentworths?!
His hand jerked involuntarily and ripped a small corner off the piece of paper he was using. Who was this woman? Not Mrs. Wentworth, because he'd met her. Not any of the other Wentworths, unless she was a new in-law. But in that case there'd have been a big hullabaloo about the wedding.
The mystery woman pulled out a letter and handed it to him, mercifully telling him what was inside. He'd still have to get someone to read it to him, but at least he knew its contents. He gripped the paper tightly like it was his ticket to heaven and stared at her. "They...they want me to come over Sunday afternoon," he echoed in disbelief. "Who are you?"
"My name is Bonnie Campbell. The Wentworths initially employed me to look after an invalid named Ruth Martin and now I also help look after Bridget."
Not knowing what else to say, she warmly smiled, "If this Sunday is inconvenient, we can make it next Sunday or any other day. It is an open invitation, so it can be whenever you wish it to be. All you need to know is that the Wentworths feel that you can come and see Bridget under supervised conditions...of course."
Feeling that Brendan might be a little offended, she continued, "They really want to make sure that Bridget has someone who truly loves to take care of her. It will be a hard job as Bridget needs a lot of help. From what I have seen so far, I think you might be able to do it but both I and the Wentworths want to be certain. The last thing we want is to find out we sent her to a place where she couldn't thrive."
Brendan shook his head in wonderment. He couldn't help but feel slightly tricked, but if the result of Bonnie's deception -- except it wasn't a deception -- was that he got to see Bridget, that was all right.
"Sunday's not incon-incon..." He exhaled and tried again. "Sunday's fine. It's fine." He broke into a smile at the thought of seeing Bridget, but it faded at Bonnie's words. Under supervised conditions. That meant they wouldn't get any time alone.
Which probably wasn't a bad thing. His reputation, although buoyed up by the respectability of his employer Ezekiel Kaufman, was still tarnished in town after his proximity to so many deaths and the (false) rumors of the violent, non-consenual nature of his relationship with Bridget. Maybe the "supervised conditions" would help his public image. It would certainly keep him from doing anything that would be considered improper.
Bridget was a different matter. With her complete lack of awareness of social mores, she might not understand that they couldn't do that anymore. He'd just have to explain it to her. She might not understand everything, but he'd be able to get the idea across.
He brought his attention back to Bonnie. "Oh, I can take care of her. I'll prove it to them. And to you. You'll see." He stuck out his chest. For him, taking care of Bridget just meant making sure she had a place to live, food to eat, and clothes to wear. He didn't know about the extensive, intensive care that Bonnie had been giving Bridget and that would need to continue.
"I hope so," Bonnie answered solemnly.
In a way it was nice to know that he had good intentions where Bridget was concerned but whether or not he would go through with them when he realised what it was going to take to look after her was another matter. Good intentions had a way of disappearing when one faced the stark of reality of what they were getting into. It would take an exceptional man and Bridget wasn't quite sure if Brendan was that man.
Her earlier statement about her thinking that Brendan might be able to take on the job of caring for Bridget was more to placate him and not discourage him. If it didn't work out with Brendan, then the only choice would be send Bridget to a home where she could live out her life. Thankfully, the Wentworths had accepted the place she had recommended.
However, that option would probably not be taken up until after the winter, so Brendan still had time to prove himself. As she waited for Brendan to finish wrapping the meat, she said, "Sunday it is. The Wentworths will be having afternoon tea around three and don't worry there won't be any lectures. They just want to get to know you more."
Bonnie purposedly left out the bit where the Wentworths also wanted to see how Bridget would act and to see what Brendan's response would be so that they could make the right decision.
Brendan folded the paper under where he'd ripped it and finished wrapping the rest of the meat. "Three it is." He looked up with a grin. "Can I hold you to that promise about no lectures?"
Besides being tedious to listen to, lectures often involved beating a dead horse. The dead horse, Brendan expected in this case, would be how he needed to straighten up and fly right. Which he was already doing by getting a job, waiting for an invitation to see Bridget instead of trying to sneak in through her window, and even having a suit altered to fit him.
He stacked the steaks neatly on the counter, with the mince and ham beside them, and rested his hand atop the pile. "You need any help carryin' this back to the Wentworths?"
Bonnie did have a basket, but oftentimes ladies didn't want to carry meat around themselves, especially if it was a large quantity. Brendan also had a deeper reason for asking his question. If he helped Bonnie, he might be able to see Bridget. Maybe just catch a glimpse of her, but he'd at least be where she was staying.
Bonnie thought about Brendan's offer to carry home the meat for her. Although she was well and truly capable of carrying it herself, she wondered there was something more to the offer than just good customer service. Maybe, he thought that if Mrs. Wentworth saw him helping out, it might make him look better and put him in good stead.
Maybe it was that she felt sorry for him or maybe she wanted to know more about him, she didn't really know but she nodded her head and said, "All right, I'll take you up on your offer of help but only as far as the kitchen door. I'm afraid, if Bridget was to see you now, she may become upset because you can't stay. After all, you don't have time to socialise on work day and I wouldn't want you to lose job on the account of that."
Well, there went his chances of talking to Bridget. But Bonnie's points were sensible, and for Bridget's good. And his own. Brendan nodded, although he hated giving in so easily.
"Deal. Just as far as the kitchen. I don't want her to get upset. Last time she got upset about somethin' she had one of them seizure things. I thought...I thought she might die." He shook his head to dispel the memory of the panic he'd felt on that day as he grabbed a crate and stacked the meat in it, then hefted it and came out from behind the counter.
He balanced the crate in one arm so he could open the door. At the last minute, he remembered to hold it open for Bonnie to go through first.
"Is she...all right? She's settled in good?" It was so strange to be asking after Bridget. It didn't feel like enough. He needed to see her, touch her face, know she was all right. But he'd agreed to not try to see her today, so he'd keep his word. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to pry some information out of Bonnie.