She was hysterical. He was lost.

It was like dealing with Lottie back when she was pregnant.

"Easy now, lass. You're puttin' yerself down fer no reason. Ye ain't a bother. Don't upset yerself like that. Now come back downstairs and sit down. I'll make ye a brew." Seriously, what was going on?

He fathered Pearl even more without her knowing he seemed to be dying a little inside. She frowned but calmed, nodding and then slowly coming out of hiding again. “You've been more of a father in one day than my own, Da, that's all. I don't mean to worry you, it's just... I'm realizing so many things. I shouldn't... tell you all the things, but...” She rubbed at her eyes, “My father and my mother are not good people. I think it is better that I'm not there, that I would rather die than to let either one of them hurt my heart anymore. I don't want to be like them.” She sniffed. Her words were low, soft, calm, heartfelt but almost a monotone.

“I think I had better rest... I'm... feeling rather poorly...” and she retreated, the white flag of surrender hitting the floor as far as her parents were concerned.

Bill didn't feel like he hadn't been particularly fatherly. He had just been a decent human being. But apparently that even had been too much to ask of the creatures that had raised this poor child. What had gone on in that big mansion? He probably didn't want to know. What he did know was that none of them were going to hurt the poor girl again. He wouldn't allow it. He knew Joe wouldn't allow it. And he would make sure Lottie would have her dreaded rolling pin ready, if the Carringtons ever darkened their door.

"Lie down then, lassie. I'll bring ye a bucket in case ye feel sick again, and sum't to drink. Don't think about t' past now. It's no good. You 'ave us now, and we're not gonna let ye get hurt."

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.

Bill had brought Pearl a bucket and some water and then he had left her to rest. He hadn't touched the rest of the fish and chips. It was contaminated. Instead, he had gone out to get some more... after a while when the thought of vomit didn't make him gag anymore.

He thought about the situation when he was out. Sometimes he thought he was a bad father. His children had so many faults that he blamed himself for. John especially had made him question himself. John would make him so angry. They had fought so much. And even apart from John, he knew he snapped easily and when the kids had needed emotional support, well... he had let Lottie handle it. But hearing Pearl's story, he felt he hadn't done too poorly.

When he returned home with a fresh helping of fish and chips, he was greeted by the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. He stepped into the kitchen and put the food down on the table. "Ye feelin' better, then?"

"Yes," she murmured, moving to set the tea and the cups upon the table. "Would you care for a cup, da?" she asked softly. There was something slightly different about the tea in question, an ingredient that complimented the flavor of the tea. She seemed to be the type of person who had a lovely coping mechanism of diverting her feelings into the art of cakes and biscuits, the scent of orange subtly drifting throughout the kitchen.

She seemed to have relaxed and she looked genuinely happy to be doing something with her hands. She might have been in a world of hurt, but she wasn't a weak spined chit. She had the tendency to talk too much at times, but it seemed it was easier to not do so the longer she was around this family.

"Aye, I might as well," Bill said as he sat down. He was quite surprised at the change. "'ave ye 'ad enough to eat, lassie?"

"I am not particularly hungry but... I needed a think and making scones has always been calming for me." She poured a cup and the subtle hint of cinnamon tickled at the nose. "I've put orange peel into the tea. They need to be used before they go bad. I took them from my house when my father allowed me to get some things... There is more flour than ma will know what to do with it. It's a surprise. I know clothes and fripperies aren't useful but to sell since I don't want them. I find it ridiculous and wasteful to buy three gowns for one day just to keep up in the social circles." She wrinkled her nose. "As if the clothing makes who a person is. One can wear the finest clothes and still be the most vile creature, especially for marriage minded mamas bent on making a match for gain instead of letting it happen on it's own." She served herself then. "I'm sorry if I talk too much, my mother says I do. She's always said it was unflattering and unladylike." She snorted at herself and settled in, putting some honey into hers to sweeten it. She had brought a small crock of it.

She was indeed very talkative. But then again, if she talked a lot, that meant he didn't have to say too much. And he got scones too. He was long won over.

He opened the package and began to eat, with his hands, because now that he wasn't sharing and the ice was broken, he didn't feel he needed continue pretending he had her level of manners. One and a half portion of fish and chips. And Lottie wouldn't even be able to tell him off, because it had all been for young Pearl's sake. Scones as desert. This was heaven.

"You're good, lass. How else are we to get to know ye?"

She did not gag to her credit. She could not look at the fish without feeling slightly queasy, so she focused on the cup in her hand, keeping it close to her face so as to mask the scent of the fish. "I suppose that is true," she said. She pondered while she inhaled the zesty scented tea. Her mouth curled upwards, then, and she glanced over to him when she was sure he was through eating what was in his mouth. "Thank you... I... I feel more at home here than I have anywhere. Ma is wonderful... She's been a real treasure for me. It's been strange how things have worked out. I feel as though things are righting themselves slowly now that I've had a chance to think." She paused and sipped at the tea, then set it down upon the table so she could move to check on the scones. They seemed to be perfect, the tops delightfully golden. She set them aside to cool and set about getting a platter set up. She started to hum prettily while distracted for the moment. She served up some clotted cream she had splurged on the day before when she had gone out to the market. There was some strawberry jam she had made, as well as some orange marmalade she had also made and was planning on making more with what was left of her stash of fruit.

Soon enough, the platter was set in the center of the table top.