It hadn't taken Faustus very long to find out who the woman was who had descended upon him and Miss Skovgaard after they'd entered the ballroom at the Sanditon Resort. One question to someone had brought the answer to him immediately, and he'd held onto the name — Mrs. Bagshot — until he'd been able to find an owl the next day and send an inquiry. After a few cordial letters back and forth, Mrs. Bagshot wasted little time in inviting Faustus over for tea on Wednesday afternoon to call upon Miss Skovgaard.

Though he was confident she had been properly seen to, Faustus had inevitably been whisked away himself to be healed and had not been able to catch even so much as a glimpse of her before he left. He'd wanted to perhaps leave a message, but the chaos of the night had seen to it that he wouldn't find time to even breathe. That night, after he'd sent off the proper letters to relatives to let them know what had happened, he found he couldn't sleep. A hot bath had helped since, despite the significant healing that had been done to his side, his entire body felt as if he'd been hit with the force of one thousand stupefy spells.

Eventually, his mounting concern over the next few days had finally seen him reach out. And so, he found himself at the front door of the residence he was told she would be at, his hat tucked under his arms and gloves in his hand as he approached the front door.

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