March 24, 1892 — Mountbatton Residence, Wellingtonshire

Today however, Poppy had nothing but thoughts of a social nature. Her Lonely Hearts informative had generated quite a few responses on Atticus’ behalf, and his young cousin was pleased to filter through them for the best candidates. She’d been sitting on a few of the responses since February, corresponding consistently to try and glean the information she could. One such promising correspondence had been handed off to her Aunt Viola, but Poppy was sure it would be handled with all the grace and tact she could only hope to one day emulate. As it was, she hoped desperately to emulate her aunt and mother today, reviewing all she’d ever learned from them about social management on her brisk walk through Wellingtonshire.
It was a touch chilly today and Poppy was glad of her gloves as she nodded to the chaperone her mother has insisted accompany her to the door. With a gentle knock, Poppy waited to be admitted. A butler greeted her pleasantly and she stepped into the parlor.
It was a beautiful entry-way, much as she’d have expected from a home in Wellingtonshire. It had a distinctly foreign touch to it, elegant and graceful in all the best ways. Poppy marveled at the home a little bit and took mental pictures, trying to imagine Atticus in this house. She smiled then at the footman who accepted her calling card, and laced her fingers together as he excused himself to inform Ms. Mountbatton that she’d arrived.
@"Natsuko Mountbatton" & Poppy's outfit

© Fox