June 2, 1894 - London, Foxwood House
When his response came across at breakfast that next morning, Poppy was as nervous to open it as she’d been to write. She held the neatly folded parchment and smoothed her thumb over the front, memorizing the way Cassian’s neat, professional hand scrawled out her name. This could well enough be the last time she saw it. The sense of profound loss that accompanied that thought had Poppy frowning and she bit her lower lip. Aunt Viola politely ignored the moment, choosing to give Poppy privacy instead by tittering with Basil. (“That Adebayo girl is quite lovely, darling. Won’t you come to the Applegate debut with us and just see if there might be anything between you?” “I already have a previous engagement that evening, Mama, with my publicist. This latest article has caused quite a stir and we are attempting to determine how to best present some of the findings. Not to mention that she’s a student of mine.” “Oh tosh! They were all your students once, dearest! If you go by that standard you’ll never marry at all!”)
When at last Poppy mustered her courage, it was only by excusing herself from the escalation at the table. (Basil had no reservation to inform his mother that he would be happy to remain a bachelor in perpetuity.) Curled in what was now very firmly her room at Foxwood House, and a comfortable, reassuring one at that, Poppy unfolded the parchment. The words there managed to lift her spirits immeasurably.
A smile split her features and Poppy felt a swell in her chest. Flatterer, was her first thought, tinged with a keen embarrassment. But more than that, the reassurance was a weight off her shoulders. He still wanted to see her, too! Not to get too ahead of herself, but it was a good sign, right? And he wanted to visit Saturday. There was so much to do! She had to get her favorite of the new dresses she’d purchased abroad pressed and readied! And perhaps she could try something new with her hair! Oh goodness, there would not be enough time to learn a new enchantment for the skirts but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to look too pressed—
Poppy quickly pulled a piece of parchment and carefully crafted her reply.
Mr. Valenduris,
I would be delighted if you came by Saturday. Perhaps we can have tea in the garden.
until then,
Ms. Dashwood
Ms. Dashwood
Cassian Valenduris & thier muse song (;w;)
© Fox