"Ye ate a few bites and called that a meal? Poppycock, sir. Ye need ta eat more than a few bites of yer vittles. Sit. Sit I say and eat!" She then left the room long enough to feed the baby because she could not, as a mother, put someone else's needs before her child. That and she needed to calm herself down or maybe have a good cry. Oh, but that good cry sounded good right about then... It wasn't mere frustration, but it was knowing his story that made it hard. He had become a broken man, it seemed to her, and nobody knew how to help pick up the pieces. She returned to the library sometime later with a milk-drunk infant. Ruth had, indeed, wept, but she kept it to herself. If there were any books left to shelve, she would return to shelving, ignoring the food herself whether it was untouched or eaten. She was hungry, but she said she was going to help finish the books and damned if she didn't.

The food had not been eaten and Edward was back to shelving by the time she returned. However, when she did return, he did look up. "You should eat, your food is... Well I do believe it is cold. Hrmmph." He says noticing that it looked quite cold now. "We can have someone warm it up for you. It's important for you to keep your strength up for your child." He notes as he comes to his feet as though to go find a servant. However, he suddenly feels weak, standing up so quickly causing the blood to rush to his head, so he sits down in a nearby chair. He rubs at his temples and his stomach growls at him which gives him pause. "Perhaps I should eat as well? I could have sworn I ate recently though."

She worried her bottom lip when she saw him swaying but relief swept through her when he said he should probably eat too. "I will eat if ye eat," she promised. She sat down and looked at the food. It no longer looked appetizing in its current state. "I'll get Betsy..." Ruth was gone with the plates of food and she went to where she remembered the kitchen was. "He said he'd eat, but his food is cold now. He ate a little of my meal and his, though."

Eleanor looks up, first at Ruth than the food. "So you decided to follow his example and not eat your own food?" She tsks softly as she takes both plates and pops them into a warm oven. "You shouldn't avoid eating because he does. I'm sure you've figured out that it's a struggle ta get that man to do... well anything for longer than a few moments." Eleanor shakes her head. "It's a shame, he seems like such a kind and gentle man. But it's like he's trying to kill himself."

"I was thrilled ta see him eating what ye sent up fer me because he was eatin'. I couldn't very well eat his dinner. But when I tried ta give his to him, he got up and got lost in puttin' books on the shelves. He's lost in his own world. He scolded me for not eatin' too, but by then, he'd eaten off of both plates and I didn't know what to do." She shrugged and gave a nice sniffle. "It's tragic what he is doin', Eleanor. It's the kind of thing that makes ya feel like yer own problems are insig... nificant." She swiped at her eyes. "I don't think he realizes what he is doin' to himself..."

"Who can say?" Eleanor says with a sigh. "I've tried to talk to him a few times. I'll have his attention for maybe a minute before he gets distracted." She shakes her head haplessly. "I can see why Master Ambrose is so particular with whom he hires. I can just imagine what would happen if any of us had less patience." Reaching out she pats Ruth on the shoulder. "Ye've got yerself a kind heart though. Here darling." Eleanor pulls out the bowl of stew, tops it up and then hands it to her. "You eat up first, then you can concentrate on him. Perhaps if you are really insistent he'll eat the whole meal."

She decided to put the baby down for a time so as not to get hot food on him. She wolfed down the food gratefully while keeping a careful watch on Jacob. "Oh, thank ye. I am famished," she said between bites. "Aye, I had to walk away ta feed me bairn and to calm meself. Then he scolded me fer not eatin' when I returned."

"Yes, he seems to notice when other people are distressed. At least, as much as he notices anything. Betsy cut her hand and he disinfected and bound the wound before she could say aught." Eleanor shakes her head and lets out a low sigh. "I'm afraid he aims ta let himself die. Maybe not on purpose but perhaps deep down that's what he's hoping for. To simply waste away."

She nodded, pausing in eating to listen to what the older woman had to say. She set her spoon down for the moment and had a thoughtful look upon her face. "It is like he is in his own world most of the time. As I was puttin' books away with him, I chatted but he didn't have much to say until I got his attention about food, then he was distracted until Jacob got hungry." She paused to take a bite of food and chewed pensively for a moment. "He cares more about others than himself it seems."

"I think you are right. Partly because I don't think he cares for himself at all." Eleanor says with a sigh. They were only just barely getting the man to eat enough to live, thankfully, he would drink from a glass of water unprompted if you left one near him. The ease with which the liquid went down and the lack of attention it took for him to pick it up and drink meant he handled that much automatically which was the only reason he wasn't withering even faster.