She was grateful for his understanding and the vessel in which to lose whatever might be lingering after that. Pearl dozed for about a half hour or so, waking up feeling a bit better. She was tired, though she wasn't feeling as heavy as she had been feeling. Some of the conflict she had dealt with became too much and it was the way that the family, one by one, welcomed her into their fold through the difference they first faced together. She no longer had it in her to be the Carrington girl who got kidnapped, or created scandal through trying to do the right thing, even if it put her reputation on the line.

She was Pearl Blacke now, and she wanted nothing more of the games that most of her family played as if it was amusing to behold the way lives seemed to get messy in the midst of Carrington House. No more. She had to think about the future, on what to do from here. She knew that she was welcome somewhere else where, while they each had their own rather extraordinary tale of life to tell for each of them.

She took herself back to the kitchen, her feet in the one thing she refused to give up... the comfortable shoes she had just for around the house, but she had already sold the majority of her rich clothes, mostly what she had never even worn before. She no longer wanted them anyway. While she was interested in the latest fashions, she was also very aware of the fact that she would no longer be able to afford such luxuries if she wanted to make sure that she contributed to a good strong foundation. She had a sum of money she had stashed within the books she kept for herself. She left the rest for Darius, though he did not know it. He'd been instrumental in getting her out of that place.

She moved to the stove, assuming that it was now okay for her to do so. She put the kettle on and automatically began to search for the ingredients she'd brought from the house that was no longer hers. There was quite a bit of food stashed away at this point, she knew that they would appreciate it. She pulled out the necessary ingredients for scones. If Bill wasn't already still in the kitchen, the scent of something rather pleasant, a warm aroma drifted through the house and it was her turn to sing as she did what she usually did when she felt bad. It wasn't necessarily to have them available, it was just to busy her hands and relax.

The girl had a lilting sort of voice as she toiled away at a leisurely pace. Just the smell of the scones baking helped to ease the residual nausea, so she seemed to sound better over time.