It took everything Ford had not to audibly grind his teeth at her response. If he had needed any further convincing that Grace's expectations of life were entirely divorced from reality, this could serve as his evidence. She wanted to go work as a shop girl, because that was less permanent? There was no way Ford would allow one of his sisters to take a job in a shop, much less encourage them to. It was beneath them, socially. It would send a message. If Grace got a job in a shop they'd might as well just hang up a banner across the front of the Bartonburg house advertising to the neighborhood that they were on the brink of poverty; there was no reason at all for someone to take a job as a shop girl unless they were in a situation where a handful of sickles a week might make the difference. It would do far more harm than good — what on earth was she thinking?
Of course, sending her to be a governess sent a message, too — but a more palatable one, as far as Ford was concerned. If people thought his sister had taken up work because she was hopeless as a debutante, that didn't necessarily kill Clementine's chances of ever marrying — not like the public declaration of poverty would if she took a shop job. But he couldn't point that out, not when he was trying to get her to calm down — and he had no desire to prolong the argument at this point, full stop. So instead of declining he said in a tone of resignation, as though she had made a good point and won the debate, "We can talk about it."
There was no chance at all he was going to let her work in a shop, but punting the conversation at least gave him time to come up with a graceful way to insist upon it. He hadn't been expecting things to veer that direction now... but then, he also hadn't been expecting to have this conversation with her at all right now. This was supposed to be the moment he brought it up to Mama — this was supposed to have been... not easier, never easy with Mama, but at least challenging in a very different way.
♥︎ Thank you Lady ♥︎
