July 6th, 1895 - Honeyduke's

This was the first summer in a long time that Elsie was not either pregnant or recovering from birth and while of course she wouldn't change her children for anything, it was rather nice to be able to enjoy the warmer weather out and about with the children rather than be stuck at home for an indeterminable amount of time feeling poorly. Running some family errands had been the agenda this afternoon, but after hitting a couple of other spots, Elsie had ducked into the Florist Potts to send a small bouquet to Professor Skeeter's services while Tyb, Maisie and Ben had headed over to the park to burn off some energy for a little while. Shopping with three children under four was difficult, so they'd decided to divide and conquer.

The plan was to reconvene at Honeyduke's for a treat. After leaving the pram outside the sweetshop, her youngest was sound asleep on her shoulder now, having been a little too fussy to duck off to the park with everyone else. Clearly she'd needed a little rest. As she'd plucked Marley from the pram, Elsie was pleased to see more of herself than her husband in one of her children. It was only fair after all, she did all of the hard work in growing them, one of them ought to look like her!

It was clear that Els had gotten there first and since Marley was snoozing, she was content to wander the aisles and pick out a few things that she knew both her husband and children liked. She'd only made it down the first row when a familiar face from the past came filtering into view. Mr. Skeeter had been an inexplicable fixture in her life some time ago, but he had seemed to figure himself out a little. She had been at a low point in her life then and hadn't kept track of him. At the very least, she knew he hadn't been in town for a while and must be visiting for Professor Skeeter's funeral. "Mr. Skeeter," she greeted softly. "I'm so very sorry to hear about Professor Skeeter's passing." She smiled sympathetically, truly feeling sorry for the loss. She had only had Professor Skeeter for one year herself, but Owen had always spoken highly of him.

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Barnabas Skeeter and eventually Tybalt Kirke

  

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He deserved a pick me up after the day he'd had, and it had barely even begun! This was why he'd left Hogsmeade to begin with. It was too small and people were too nosy. The children here were the spawn of demons. Barnabas desparately needed a hot, preferably large, cup of coffee. He had managed to pack some with him, but he'd left it at the boarding house and hadn't had a chance to return yet. His head had begun to ache annoyingly with what he knew would soon become a pounding migraine.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, which was how he found himself perusing the shelves at Honeyduke's. Searching for something, anything, that contained even an inkling of coffee in it. He'd been suspiciously smelling a jar of what looked to be candied beetles but could have been beans when he was suddenly approached by none other than Miss Beauregard. Now this was a pleasant change to his day!

Barnabas nearly smiled at the sight of her, but remembered at the last moment that he was indeed, supposed to be very sad. He settled for a furrowed brow instead, "Thank you, Miss Beauregard, that is kind of you to say. We-" This is when he noticed that that weird bit of fabric that he'd first thought an odd fashion choice had moved slightly, and upon further inspection was actually even more horrible than a fashion faux pas - it was an infant. A real one. Wide-eyed, he said, "You've certainly been busy."

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Busy did not even begin to cover it. Elsie only had one-fourth of her chaos with her (yes, Tyb counted) currently. She supposed she could understand Mr. Skeeter's surprise, she'd probably been the furthest from getting married she'd ever been the last time she'd seen him. "Yes," she chuckled. If he'd been away for all of this time, he wouldn't know anything about the elopement or everything that went along with it.

Still, she nodded. "Busy is certainly one way to put it." She assured him as she adjusted Marley in her arms. "This is my youngest," the rest would likely be joining them shortly. "How have you been?" She asked, figuring that the obvious aside, he must have been quite busy himself. Elsie always wondered at the fact that people just wandered in and out of other's lives, leaving some sort of imprint and then fading back out.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

While his feelings for Elsie had never been as strong as they'd been for Amelia, he'd still pined for her, in his own way. For some reason, it had never occured to him that while he was away, time would still move on. People would age, women would marry and... reproduce–apparently–rather than wait for his return with bated breath. It has been six years after all. She would have been a dried up spinster by now. She had gotten married, and was no longer Miss Beauregard, though she hadn't corrected him.

"Youngest?!" He exclaimed in a way that should have been neutral, save for his voice rising an octave. He cleared his throat and brushed a hand through his hair self-consciously, "Er.. congratulations, I suppose! How-" He was almost afraid to ask, "How many do you have? Children, that is?"

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Elsie didn't miss the surprise to his tone. She could only chuckle. "Thank you." They'd started late (for her) and had certainly made up for lost time. All three of her children were about eighteen months apart and it was a whirlwind, but she wouldn't have it any other way, now that things were settled. "Three, for now." A number had not be defined, but she and Tyb both knew they weren't done. Nothing was being done to prevent any more pregnancies (despite Lucinda's gift and her thankfulness for a bit of a break after Marley). It was all up to chance at this point. The Walsh traits ran strong in Elsie's blood, apparently. Most of her mother's siblings had several children of their own and though she was the only one of her siblings to currently have children, she was doing just fine in adding to the new generation.

"Are you back in town to stay, or just for the funeral?" While Els was content to talk about her children, she was figuring that Mr. Skeeter would rather like something else to converse about.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

"Oh, how... nice for you," He said politely, though was unable to clear the frown from his face. Three?! Merlin's beard. Here he was still shamefully single and she'd gone on not only to get married, but pop out several children with some lucky bloke. (Barnabas was under the very stereotypical impression that all women wanted to get married and have children, and if they had not done so, it was a personal failure.) Mrs. Something had been incredibly successful, as far as he was concerned. Yet here he was, still stuck at the starting line. It really should't be so difficult to find himself a wife. Unmarried women were a dime a dozen. He could have walked out the door and seen at least three within a stone's throw. They should have been throwing themselves at him at this point–he was a catch. Handsome, decent financial status, what more could a single woman want?

Thankfully before he could ask her for advice (which would have been incredibly inappropriate, it was morning at a candy store for Merlin's sake–to say nothing of how uncomfortable he would make her–no, no, he wasn't that desperate) she switched topics. A good idea for both of them, honestly.

"Just the funeral," He told her, "I'm heading back to New York Tuesday evening. I don't like to overstay." 'His welcome' was left unsaid, although it could be said that 'welcome' was an optimistic choice of words, "Will I see you there?"

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Elsie pressed her lips together to smother the laugh that bubbled up. He looked surprised and Els supposed she couldn't blame him. It wasn't like she had been outgoing and actively looking to get married in her early twenties.

She nodded along at his travel plans. His question about her attendance at the funeral had Elsie stumbling a little. She hadn't planned to go, though Professor Skeeter had always been kind, she'd only had him for one year and it felt like she didn't belong. "I could," she offered with a soft smile. Hopefully Miss Halliwell wouldn't mind. Elsie had a shift at the library, but she could try and make both happen. Tyb might not have the same flexibility, but perhaps one of them ought to pay their respects. "I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate, his first year was my last." Elsie explained, realizing she hadn't really given enough detail.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Tybalt never worried he was getting old until he was more out of breath at the park than a pair of toddlers were: they could have gone on all day, and he was feeling winded. In his defense, they had ganged up on him playing tag, and he had had to trudge all the way back carrying Maisie, because she had won their games and demanded a piggyback as her reward.

Still, they had made into Honeyduke’s in a whirlwind of noise and chatter and all on the lookout for Elsie. It took Tybalt a moment to locate her, because he was being dragged in two ways and Maisie was grabbing for some sweets on the shelf, but there she was down the aisle. He spotted Marlowe peacefully asleep on her shoulder – and Elsie was talking quietly to someone, but he didn’t get much of a chance to see precisely who before Bentley was running towards them at full tilt, followed by Tyb’s hasty exclamation of: “If you wake your sister, you won’t get any of your Ice Mice!”

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Maybe he was a masochist, but Barnabas opened his mouth to encourage her to attend the funeral. She was married with a brood of children–that didn't stop him from wanting to spend time with her. It was innocent, really. There was just something sbout Elsie that put him at ease. She was pleasant to be around (and look at), and now that he'd experiencd being near her again, he wasn't quite ready to give that up.

He was interrupted by the sound of several running feet and their quite moment was absolutely destroyed by two rambunctious children. Hers, most likely, based on the obvious clues. And then there was a man's stern warning, quite clear and quite fatherly sounding, and based on the even more obvious clues–Barnabas supposed that was the father of said children... and Elsie's husband.

It wasn't that he was improperly close to her, but even still he felt himself shuffle back a step. Mostly to avoid the children who had joined them. They likely had sticky fingers and he wasn't about to let them ruin his suit. He forced his grimace into a tight grin, unsure how to handle the intrusion.

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Elsie supposed it would be fine if she were to stop by for the services. Just for a few moments. Surely there would be other people around that she could shuffle toward and be supportive. She had been about to say as much, when she heard them before even bothering to look for them. The onslaught of little feet, accompanied by Tyb's holler had her chuckling, but also double-checking to make sure Marley was still asleep.

Bentley collided with her skirts at full tilt, but she was used to it, had braced herself and he hid in the folds, looking up at Mr. Skeeter curiously. Elsie reached down to brush a hand over his head gently, smiling down at him. Thankfully Marley was still passed out cold; ah, the benefits of the youngest child. The house was never quiet anyway, she could sleep through anything. "The rest of the aforementioned children," Elsie turned her smile to Mr. Skeeter, albeit a little sheepishly. It was the sweet shop after all, it wasn't exactly expected that everyone be on their best behavior. "And my husband, Tybalt." She so very rarely called him that (unless he was in trouble along with the children), that it felt funny to say.

"This is Mr. Skeeter, we used to be acquainted a while back." She explained, unsure of how else to qualify their run-ins what, seven or so years ago now? "He's in town for the Professor's funeral." It really was very sad.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Bentley may not have listened in the slightest (and Tyb respected it, just a little, even when Ben wasn’t listening to him), but on the other hand he also hadn’t woken his sister. So they were probably fine – at least, the Kirkes had not caused a crisis in the sweetshop in the moment Tyb glanced up to look at the man Elsie was speaking to.

“Oh, yes,” Tyb said instinctively, I know who he is, only he couldn’t say that, because he had more heard of him, rather than knew him, and all he had heard about him were department and Ministry horror stories about the fellow, a long history of relieved sighing that at least Skeeter had gone. Tyb couldn’t say that, obviously, so failing any pleasant sentiment at the man’s undersized presence, he just smiled too broadly, wordless.

Which was awkward, because these were not happy circumstances for a return. “Ah. Sorry to hear that,” Tyb added hastily, wishing they hadn’t come in at such a – well, a bummer moment. “And we’re sorry to interrupt. Don’t mind us, anyway!” he advised, perfectly pleased to let Elsie carry on offering their sympathies and whatnot; he started grappling with Maisie, to hopefully get her safely off his back without her knocking a sweets display with them.

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   Barnabas Skeeter

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Unsure of what else to do while he was within touching distance of children—particularly ones with what he assumed were sticky fingers—Barnabas simply nodded agreeably at Elsie's introductions. The exchange was a bit awkward, his own acceptance of the condolences uttered in succession to receiving them. And then thankfully, the husband removed himself (and potentially one of the children) from the conversation. Seeing their interactions, it was then and there that Barnabas decided he would have a nanny to bother with his own children when they came along. They'd be less irritating at some point, and then he could shape them into being just as successful as himself.

He forced a pleasant smile that could have been more accurately described as a grimace. He took another step back, "I best be on my way. Errands to run and all that. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Els–" He glanced nervously at her husband as he amended, "and meeting your family, of course."

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me