July 17, 1892 - Foxwood Garden Party, Bath

Atticus and Basil Foxwood had gone all out for their garden party, although why they had decided the theme of black and white was beyond him. Black was hot for the middle of summer, and white… well white was a risk when it came to being outdoors. Timoleon was certain that Atticus hadn’t thought to enchant the grounds to stop dirt from clinging to fabric, and while he wasn’t as friendly with his younger brother, he highly doubted the young professor had fussed over any of the details for the party at all. If anyone would have considered it, it would have been the beautiful Mrs. Foxwood, but she seemed to be keeping a watchful eye over her the entire party while ensuring her eldest son was the center of attention.

He snorted under his breath as he plucked a black sushi roll from a tray and popped it into his mouth as he took a glance around the room. The party had moved from lawn games to dinner and dancing, leaving the perfect opening to charm a few debutantes. Most of the newly debuted had worn white - innocence and nativity he assumed. Leo had opted for an all black suit with a white tie for the simple fact that his black one was missing - the last time he saw it, it’d been used in a much more fun manner than wearing it tied around his neck. It nearly made him roll his eyes; with enough sweet words and empty promises, some of the newer debutantes were never as innocent as they appeared.

His eyes fleeted around the party as they landed on some debutantes he was rather acquainted with, and some newer faces he hadn’t met yet. Leo hadn’t made that much of an effort to accept every invitation to balls and such, but he was getting near that age that he might as well consider taking a wife. The thought made him shudder. Vapid and clingy, he absolutely did not want a woman on his arm for the rest of his life but he wasn’t going to have much of a choice - eventually, his mère would just tell him he was in an arranged marriage and he better be happy about it. Better find one here, at an event he only accepted the invitation to because Atticus was someone he would a friend, then allow his mother to have her choice of a daughter-in-law.

He frowned as a dainty hand wrapped around his bicep and a small voice excused herself. A young woman he didn’t recognize had nearly bumped into him, yet as Leo moved to step around her, she did the same, instead knocking into someone carrying a tray of black lemonade. They began to clatter to the ground around them, some of them finding the clothing of the people around him and without thinking, Leo reached out to wrap his arm around a young lady’s waist to pull away from a glass that was destined to land straight on her lap. The liquid splashed everywhere, and he was sure the white tie was going to be stained.

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Poppy Dashwood

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The day had been entertaining enough for Poppy to be pleased going into early evening. She had played a very successful round of croquet with her cousins (Atticus, Anthony and Basil), beating them all and proving herself superior, and the triumph of such a victory had most certainly been expressed in her poise. The rosy glow of her cheeks and the sweet, mischievous smile that had followed her around since had only elevated the brunette’s experience; Anthony could be so competitive. It was nice to have something to laud over him.

Now that evening was settling in over Foxwood Estate, a soft glow was beginning to touch everything. What had once been green and white was now softening under the purple and blue light of dusk. Many of the black and white attired guests had already gone save for those select few friends of Atticus’ and a handful of accompanying ladies who had been invited to stay beyond the daytime festivities. Many of the ladies had already gone up to change into their evening attire and only a handful of gentlemen loitered still by the gardens, smoking. Poppy smiled delicately as she passed them on her way up to do the same.

Her favorite room at Foxwood Estate had always been the Blue Room and as such, it was generally designated to her. It was just so airy and light, so very full of happy memories. Poppy had been staying in this room since she was a child. She’d even carved her name by wand-point in the wood under the bed. Atticus had caught her in the act at the time, but instead of stopping her, he’d carved his name beside hers. It was one of the many secrets they had shared over the years and she giggled to herself as she thought of it now, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The change of attire from an elegant white day dress with black trim into the fabulous black and white spectacle her mother had brought back from Paris took the better part of a half hour. Evie, her maid, did an excellent job helping Poppy into the massively heavy dress. While the brunette settled upon enchanting the black feathers along the side to appear as if they were cascading down the fabric, Evie took to her hair and reattired it into an updo that showed off her collarbone. Between her hairstyle and the traditional Victorian off-the-shoulder sleeves, Poppy found herself gazing into the mirror wondering what was missing. If only she’d thought to bring a black gemstone to wear around her neck! As it was, Evie found a simple black ribbon to tie into a tight bow instead and Poppy, satisfied, made her way back to rejoin the party.

A black gloved hand pressed just lightly against the railing as Poppy descended the tall staircase. Below, there was quite the hustle and bustle of guests; many of them must have just come down and started to make their way into the drawing room. She was glad not to be the last. Scouting the crowd from above for her cousins, any of them, Poppy watched instead as a young lady tripped into the waitstaff sending a tray of canapés and a pitcher of black lemonade soaring through the air. Free hand coming to her mouth to cover a gasp, Poppy watched as if in slow motion. A tray full of her favorite cassis and white caviar bites went soaring through the air and the pitcher of lemonade shattered against the ground. The room fell into a quiet hush as guests looked and then began to murmur to themselves.

The man who had been bumped had been extremely quick on his feet to save the feckless debutant, a Ms. Twiglett, now that Poppy recognized her. She was a clumsy creature that one, and not particularly pleasant. (Why she’d been invited to stay, Poppy didn’t know.) Still, the unfamiliar gentleman had managed to catch her before she too hit the ground amidst the glass, though her dress could not be saved. Black and white shmear splattered Ms. Twiglett’s white skirts as Poppy descended the rest of the stairs. Turning away so as to not add to the scene, the brunette made her way expediently to the drawing room. Oh how she hoped Beryl would be down and dressed already; she wanted to share the scene with a trusted ear!

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Timoleon Maxime

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© Fox

July 17, 1892 - Foxwood Garden Party, Bath

Miss Twiglett shrieked as Timoleon wrapped his arm around her waist, because how indecent was it for a man to touch a woman without her permission! The skirts of her white dress were already dripping with the black lemonade, the large stain evident as it spread and soaked into the fabric, becoming the primary point of her attire. His own tie was stained with droplets of black lemonade, but he’d just toss it to a maid to clean at the end of the night; the stain either would be gone the next time he wore it, or would be replaced. Her maid was already scurrying forward to dab at the stain with a rag she’d procured. His hands fell to his side as he stepped away from her, holding his hands up in surrender as she turned on him.

“How dare you!” She was seething as she stepped toward him and Leo merely offered her a smile, taking another step back. He couldn’t utter a word to her - it was her fault she was covered in black liquid and the fact that he was stepping in it, and she wasn’t going to put the blame on him. He nodded his head toward her and without an apology, or rather, a murmur to see if she was okay, turned on his heel and took a few strides away from her. Her maid grabbed Miss Twiglett’s arm to pull aside because surely another chaperone had a spell to take the stain from her dress and save her evening. She had also drawn a few eyes, and it wasn’t in a positive way that a debutante would have hoped. Whoever married this woman was in for a miserable life.

Stepping toward where a crowd was beginning to gather in the drawing room, Leo skirted around a couple women who were clearly still watching the scene; the staff had jumped in quickly and the lemonade was cleaned from the floor, the ruined food back on trays as they were rushed to be disposed of. His eyes landed on Atticus, who normally would have been having a conniption of something awry at his own event, but his cheeks were flushed red and he was in a deep conversation with Anthony about… something. He was much too drunk to care. Leo would make a comment on it later when his friend was in the right headspace to be teased.

Leo stepped toward one of the walls where a young woman he didn’t quite recognize was alone, although she appeared to be looking for someone. He’d take that opportunity and capitalize on it, so he stepped up toward her and offered her a charming smile. “I hope you didn’t find yourself in range of that spill. You look lovely tonight.” She looked impeccable, unlike Miss Twiglett, who he swore was still shrieking somewhere in the other room.

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Poppy Dashwood

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As Poppy scanned the small group that was gathering in the drawing room, she failed to spot her friend’s familiar facade. She could hear Ms. Twiglett’s screech even from the next room and she flinched, feeling a growing sense of pity and empathy for the poor man that had bothered to try and aid her. What a horrible woman, the brunette thought ungraciously to herself. It took much for Poppy to grow to dislike anyone, but Ms. Corazina Twiglett had certainly managed it between her rude behavior at Hogwarts and then harassing all, not one, but all, of Poppy’s dearly beloved male cousins and friends. (If she held extra rancor at the idea of the woman even speaking to Mr. Lestrange, well, that was her own business.)

Deciding to intrude upon Atticus and Anthony’s conversation instead, Poppy had just determined to make a move when an unfamiliar voice surprised her in its address. It was enticing and low, unlike anything she’d quite heard before. Turning to find an equally handsome visage to accompany it, Poppy felt her cheeks warm a touch as a surprised little ‘oh’ escaped her. She turned to face the gentleman and recognized him as the poor sod that had dared to help that ungrateful— Smoothing her dress and trying to keep her thoughts genteel, Poppy offered him a demure little smile. “Thank you,” she replied. “No, I was quite safe from the whole spectacle. I was coming down the staircase when it happened.”

Appraising the gentleman, Poppy wondered if she ought to offer further commentary. On the one hand she wanted to apologize to him for his terrible experience, but on the other she really had no reason to. It wasn’t like she was the one who’d made a spectacle and then yowled at him. Still, it felt rude not to address it. “I’m sorry you experienced that,” she offered quietly. As her eye caught then on the small stain that had blossomed forth on the gentleman’s attire, she decided it was as good a talking point as any. “Your tie seems to have made out worse for wear. I’m sure we could find a way to get it out, if you’d like?”

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Timoleon Maxime

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© Fox

She seemed almost surprised to be approached, although he couldn’t figure out why; she was beautiful just on site and when she smiled at him the entire room glowed. Leo returned her smile with a slight chuckle. “Lady Luck must be on your side, although it is a shame I missed an angel descending from heaven.” She looked like one despite her dress being a mixture of black and white; perhaps next year the Foxwoods should host a heaven and hell party so he could witness how she’d look with wings. Suddenly the entire ordeal with the other young lady seemed to have left his mind; he hadn’t spoken to her before and probably would avoid her for the foreseeable future now that she’d shown what kind of woman she was.

Why then, she was apologizing was beyond him; as far as Leo knew she was neither of the Foxwood brothers (and if she was he’d need to get head checked), which left her no reason to do so. Blue hues were drawn toward his tie, and he clicked his tongue together as he spotted the black stain that had soaked into the fabric. “At least it’s still a part of the theme.” He joked as he moved to untie the fabric from his neck; Leo wasn’t worried about a white tie that could easily be replaced, but if it interested the young lady to fret about him, he was going to milk it. He could think of much better ways to put the tie to use than around his neck, anyway.

“It is my favorite tie,” He hummed then, and with one final inspection, hung the tie loosely back around his neck. “But I wouldn’t ask you to dirty your hands on my account Miss…?” Leo nearly rolled his eyes. The tie was useless to him; if he wanted to get a stain out himself he probably knew a spell for that. “But I am thankful for the offer.” He added, with a smile. She looked like the kind of woman who would want to help anyway. He wondered if that was true.

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Poppy Dashwood

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At the gentleman’s obvious flirting, Poppy felt her cheeks flush warm and she wondered to herself if he was being galant or ostentatious. It was rather a transparent metaphor, but giving him the benefit of the doubt, she tilted her head demurely and smiled, saying nothing. She couldn’t well agree with him; that would be rude. Instead, Poppy watched keenly as the unfamiliar sir glanced down at his stain and made a little joke. She felt herself relax a touch; perhaps he was just flustered. She could only imagine what a state he must be in considering his part in the scene they’d all been forced to witness. As he removed the item, she raised an eyebrow wondering if he was going to hand it to her.

The gentleman seemed to take a long enough look however and then promptly tossed the thing loosely around his neck once more. He was rather disheveled looking now and Poppy wasn’t sure if it was inappropriate or simply casual. As the group had been significantly reduced to the size of a house party, she supposed it no longer mattered as much, but the impression still made her cheeks continue to feel warm. “Miss Dashwood,” she replied, a touch hesitantly. “Poppy Dashwood.”

Eying him up again, Poppy considered. “I’m sure we could summon a house elf to tend to that for you,” she reiterated again. “Really, it’s no trouble.” While not specifically a hostess, she felt responsible and tried to encourage his favor. The man seemed obliging enough anyhow and, if it was as simple a matter as handing the item to a house elf and asking for it to be returned the following day, then there really was nothing more to it.

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Timoleon Maxime

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© Fox

His lips quipped into a smile at her name; Poppy Dashwood. He’d heard Atticus speak fondly of her despite being nervous for her debut this season. He fretted over the young woman as if she was his sister and not a distant cousin, but then again Atticus was oddly close to his family. Leo couldn’t imagine wanting to hang out with his family - they all had their own agendas and it wasn’t a family gathering until someone was hexed. For the Foxwoods, it didn’t seem like it was a family gathering until they were huddled around a piano singing some song about love and happiness.

Repressing a shudder at the thought tilted his head. “Timoleon Maxime.” An easy introduction; had she been anyone else he would have lifted her hand to kiss it, but part of him knew she wouldn’t be impressed by that. Instead the brunette straightened his back. “Miss Dashwood, it’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. Your cousin speaks very highly of you.” He was almost certain Atticus enjoyed her company more than his brother’s, but the man was tight-lipped when it came to anything remotely related to his relationship with family members. It was rather annoying.

Laughing, Leo’s fingers worked to retie the cloth around his neck before tucking it back into his shirt where it belonged. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’ll wear it as a badge of honor.” Of what? Surviving Miss Twiglett? He could do that all night. “Could I interest you in some lemonade? I promise I won’t allow anyone to spill anything on you, if it boils down to it.” Flicking his gaze up to her, Leo allowed an almost genuine smile to twitch against his lips.

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Poppy Dashwood

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The gentleman introduced himself and Poppy bobbed up and down courteously as was expected. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever heard anything about a Mr. Timoleon Maxime, from Atticus or her mama, and Poppy certainly didn’t like not having his reputation at the tip of her thumb. There was something rubbing at the familiarity of the name in her mind however. She knew something about him, but couldn’t quite place what. Making a mental note to ask Atticus about him another evening, when her beloved cousin was not quite so drunk, Poppy offered the gentleman a small, knowing smile. “Ah, so you are well acquainted  with Atticus then?” She hummed at him, amusement alight in her features. Well that certainly settled whatever hesitation was roiling around in her gut. If he was good enough for Atticus to trust as both friend and to bring around his family, then Poppy found herself inclined to trust him.

Letting her guard down a touch, the diminutive brunette watched as Mr. Maxime replaced his neck trappings. She offered another delicate laugh, hidden behind a gloved hand, and blinked at him with big, bright eyes. A badge of honor, he said. For surviving the endeavor that is Ms. Twiglett, her mind supplied rather rudely. “And such it is, Mr. Maxime,” she replied, still uncharacteristically keen on the petty thought. As to his other offer… “I’m quite alright, thank you sir.” Poppy replied with a gentle tip of her head. She wasn’t so keen on the lemonade what with how sweet it was, and she was already a touch anxious about having to ingest any more food than she already had tonight. Better to save room. “Your offer is very gallant, however, and I’m flattered.” She added.

Poppy could feel herself keeping Mr. Maxime at arms length, moreso than she did with most gentlemen, and a small part of her wondered if it could possibly be because of those smoldering blue eyes. He was handsome enough, in his rather attractive moth-to-flame manner, but Poppy couldn’t help remembering what happened the last time she’d encountered someone like this whom had captured her interest so fully. (If she was disappointed that he hadn’t come today, she tried not to think about it much.)  Mr. Maxime was proving himself a lot less temptingly forward however, and so Poppy was sure she felt safe enough to engage him.

“Have you enjoyed the day’s activities?” She asked, hoping to transition them to something more robust upon which to actually have a discussion. Curiosity about him remained, but Poppy supposed she could titter politely for the time being. 

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Timoleon Maxime

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© Fox

Atticus Foxwood could be a bore; he offered conversation for sure, and from what Leo could tell his entire family were a fun-filled bunch of weird people who enjoyed spending time together for fun. His own family events were out of duty and even then, seeing them was never something he'd call a good time. He never spoke of anything scandalous but then again he was one of the few people Leo wanted to count as a friend - he didn’t require much attention outside of a few drinks from time to time, and if he needed to know who someone in the room was, Atticus was his go to person to find their name. The man lived and breathed societal events.

Finally, he turned his attention back toward Ms. Dashwood. “We met in Rome while we were both on our grand tours.” Leo laughed quietly. “Atticus drunkenly tried to climb into my carriage thinking it was his and profusely apologized when he was coherent enough. I moved to London a few years ago and he was helpful in getting me settled into a flat, although I don’t quite make as many events as he does.” Truth was, he was only here because the man had asked him to attend his party, as it was his unofficial way of celebrating his birthday. Timoleon wasn’t one to turn down someone he deemed helpful to him, even if it wasn’t much.

Blue eyes blinked at Ms. Dashwood, and he wondered how angry the man would be if he were to make a pass at her; his friend was expendable and he could easily find another person who was good with names. The debutante was pretty, very easy on the eyes, and seemed like she needed to loosen up to have a good time - Leo was definitely going to have to consider how expendable the Foxwoods were to him. He offered a smile to her as she turned down his offer, saying nothing more on the matter.

“Immensely, thank you Ms. Dashwood.” He almost choked on his tongue; Timoleon hated lawn games. What was the purpose? The only reason he enjoyed being victorious was to hold his winnings over someone’s head. “Although I do prefer dancing to lawn games. If I may, Miss Dashwood, I would be honored if you would allow me to put my name on your dance card the next time we meet.” He smiled at her.

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Poppy Dashwood

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Poppy nodded along as Mr. Maxime detailed to her how he’d met her beloved cousin. While she could not imagine Atticus drunkenly doing much of anything, she could see him apologizing profusely the next day if he where to do something like steal a carriage. The rest all very much sounded like him and Poppy’s smile turned fond as she listened. “Yes,” the girl hummed. “He is a darling, my cousin.” Very helpful too, when he wanted to be. (Less so when he was being stubborn.)

As the man turned blue eyes to appraise her, Poppy felt a soft blush color her cheeks even as she tried to keep it at bay. She wasn’t sure what he could possibly be looking at so intently, but she hoped he wouldn’t find her wanting in any regard. His response to her polite query seemed less than genuine then and Poppy tilted her head at him, mischievously wondering if she ought to call him out on his fib. He breezed past it quickly enough that she felt it might be rude of her to bring it up however, and instead very gallantly asked her to dance the next time they met. Well, that was certainly a turn she had not expected.

Was this what one was supposed to look out for when they were cautioned against gentlemen who might appear to be a rake?

The thought occurred quickly and dramatically, and all of a sudden Poppy found herself considering the gentleman before her in an entirely different light. She hated to be so set against anyone who might not deserve it until proven otherwise though and so dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. She offered him a shy little smile in return. “Of course, Mr. Maxime,” she replied innocently, even as a mischievous look came to her features. “If you’re clever enough to find me in time.”

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Timoleon Maxime

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© Fox

Poppy Dashwood, Leo was finding, was a reflection of her cousin - she was almost as boring as Atticus was, although she had least had a little more spunk to her. Probably because she was raised by someone different than Mrs. Foxwood who was more than likely the impediment of dull, and he had to stifle a yawn at the very thought of her. The only good thing that came from the Dashwood name was the lack of scandals and then her brother left a black mark on their name. At least her half-blood status wasn’t an instant red mark against her - her blood status still meant the Maxime family had no muggles or muggleborn in any branch and he’d be damned if it didn’t stay that way.

His eyes narrowed briefly as he glanced at her before he realized she was talking; the shy girl he was bored with was still there until her last sentence piqued his interest, the dullness of Poppy Dashwood melting away just enough for him to not end the conversation right then and there. Instead a slight smile curled at the edges of his lips. “Well Miss Dashwood, let’s give it a test run. You hide now, and I’ll seek.” He smirked at her as he leaned toward her. “Let’s see if you’re clever enough to hide somewhere I can’t find you.”

It was like cat and mouse - Timoleon always liked to be the predator. He prowled. He conquered. And she thought he wasn’t going to be clever enough to find her at a later date.

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Poppy Dashwood

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As Mr. Maxime continued to engage, Poppy felt something in the pit of her gut shift. Perhaps her initial instinct had been correct after-all. Maybe he really was a rake, and it would seem not the particularly interesting kind. Like Mr. Lestrange. What a disappointment, and so handsome too. Like so many gentlemen before him however, it would seem Maxime was more eager to hear himself speak than he was to form any meaningful connection and the way his expression seemed to glaze over as she spoke and then morph into something almost predatory alerted Poppy to the danger ahead.

On the one hand, the brunette knew it would be easy to engage in a tete-a-tete with the gentleman, spinning witticisms back and forth as he became more and more tiresome; on the other, Poppy knew it would be in her best interest to simply excuse herself politely and turn away from him altogether. Unable to bring herself to do either, really, the brunette simply hummed in the man’s direction, her tone not impolite but a little less keen than before.

“No. Thank you sir,” she replied easily instead. “I have no interest in hiding in the shadows like some misguided urchin.” Then, demurring in the way she’d been taught, Poppy curtseyed politely and dipped her head to the gentleman. “If you’ll excuse me. I believe mama is calling.”

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Timoleon Maxime

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   Elias Grimstone

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© Fox