Open to someone who might be at the matchmaker event in London - likely east asian/mata grad

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September 29th, 1892 — A Private Home, London

The evening was here and Natsuko was a bundle of nerves - miserable nerves.  The deal that she would go to Japan and the matchmaker had seemed so far away when she made it, and yet here it was, she would meet these men with English aspirations and her boat would leave on Friday.  This was her last chance to avoid her trip - and hopefully make a match that would let her stay in England, near her friends, or at least reduce her chances of having to move back to Japan.  Although sometimes she thought leaving might be better - to be far away so she didn't need to see or hear of Atticus Foxwood again - to not see him take another woman to wife, to parade her at balls or social occasions to be forced to watch as his cousins friend as he was happy with someone else.  Her expression was hollow in the mirror as the unwanted mental image elbowed it's way into her brain.  She shook her head, and the image away, adjusting one of the ornate adornments to her perfectly styled hair.  And Natsuko - and her maid, had brought the big guns - she was at her finest in stressful social situations like this, and both her dress and deportment were designed to be the perfect presentation of a society wife. 

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time before they were ushered to their places behind the curtain. 

There were 3 other girls tonight, all graduates from Mahoutokoro, 2 had been 'shipped in' expressly for the presentation, their families hoping for matches that would see them stay in England.  The first girl had been exceptionally pretty but from a family of little fortune, none really, and she didn't seem to speak much English.  Her brother had spoken to her loudly in English as though by speaking slowly and at volume would help her understand what would be her new language. 

The second was the eldest daughter of a large family, her parents had come to England years before, but now at 26 she was already a spinster, or fast approaching it, and an arranged match had seemed the best option.  The third had the closest story to Natsuko's, she had been a year ahead of Suki in school, but her parents had other girls, too many in fact to have all out at once, and so she was to be married as this summer season closed so that they had capacity for another daughter to debut the following year. 

The process was 'simple' - the girls families paid a flat fee to have them included in the presentation, the men's families would pay a percentage of whatever dowry was settled, and by the end of the night marriage contracts and dowry vestments would be sorted and the marriages over in all but name, with all that would be left to them, was to arrange a service and a wedding breakfast - another stack of prize calves ready to be auctioned.  The thought made her sick, not for any moral reason or even a particular aversion to the practice of matchmaking, but because she had not planned to lose her heart just before it happened.  That made this intolerable. 

The girls had all been preened and prepared for their 'debuts', but the first girl had not made it to the presentation hall, gentleman, keen to either get the matter over and done with or seeking to save money by taking the lady with the smallest dowry, had made his deal sight unseen and she had left the room, pleased as punch to have been successful.  The others had muttered their congratulations, too caught up in their own nerves to be more enthusiastic. 

The rest of the girls now stood in a row before the group of prospective new families.  Their gowns were opulent, as beautiful and ornate as they could variously afford, but each one with a heavy red wedding veils, with their golden trim, hiding their faces as the curtain rose on the 3 ladies standing on a dais before the 6 or so assembled gentlemen and their families, one figure sat alone.

Natsuko could just about make out the gathered groups of people, not features exactly but usually a lounging male in a chair to the front, with the best view, and a few gathered forms behind him, some evidently female, no doubt the mothers, come to over see the final selection.  Natsuko was third in the line, forced to listen to the gentle muttering of the room as each of the previous girls had her veil lifted and her features revealed and those features were assessed by the small groups.  Her turn came, and she kept her face down turned as her veil was lifted and her eyes readjusted to the ambient lamp light, and polite applause followed for the three offered young ladies. She finally managed to make herself look up, to take in the men who might be her husband - and her breath caught in her throat.  What were they doing here?! She hadn't expected to see anyone she knew at an event like this.

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Hair
Victorian this

  

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Gin made something stunning

Atticus couldn’t get Natusko Mountbatton out of his head. Ever since he’d laid eyes upon her at Poppy’s debut, he knew in his heart that she was the person he wanted to spend his life with; she was everything he could have hoped for and more. He wanted to get to know her before he made the leap of a marriage, although he’d already made his mind up that Miss Mountbatton was the sole person he wanted to see walking down the aisle toward him. He’d asked her at the opera to court him, to be his, but Atticus had acted too late - the matchmaker had already been paid and Natsuko Mountbatton slipped through his fingers like sand.

Atticus loathed the idea of watching her be by someone else's side. Would she be cruel enough to invite him to the wedding?

The idea had haunted him for days, keeping him awake as he pondered a way to stop this madness; it had been Poppy who had planted the idea of meeting with the matchmaker because three families were looking for English matches before taking them back to Japan, possibly forever. It hadn’t taken much as he was what most families looked for when trying to marry off their daughters, but he only had eyes for Miss Mountbatton. If she wasn’t the one he was going to be with by the end of the night, then he’d be leaving by himself.

Mama had accompanied him, although the thought of forcing Anthony to come with him had crossed his mind; his poor cousin was a hopeless romantic and the idea of women being forced to marry someone they didn’t love didn’t sit well with him. It was fine. Anthony had helped him in other ways; he’d been the one to clue Viola in that Atticus was in love, and then his mother had given him the ring his own father had proposed with. “For a lifetime of happiness.” The ring had been heavy in his pocket for weeks.

The process had been explained to him although the words had been a flurry in his mind, in one ear and out the other. He settled into one of the chairs near the front with his mother at his side, watching with bated breath as the curtain finally raised; disappointment settled in his gut when he couldn’t immediately spot the woman who had walked away with his heart. The first two women were beautiful, but they weren’t Natsuko - and when her veil was raised… his heart pattered against his chest. She was the one. There was no doubt about it. Atticus smiled at her, and had she been able to do anything outside of the script, he would have waved at her. Instead he was forced to watch her stand on the stage when there was nothing more he wanted than to wrap her in his arms.

He knew after this was dinner, although he doubted he’d be able to explain himself to her; instead Atticus hoped she understood he was here just for her, that he needed her like he needed air to breathe.

Here Atticus was clumsy, and he followed suit of what the other gentlemen were doing as the ladies were finished presenting; he wondered if anyone else looked at Miss Mountbatton as their future wife - he hoped not. They were in for a rude awakening.

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   Madeleine Backus

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Mister Foxwood - her stomach flipped and spasmed and she felt dizzy, she had to drag her gaze from his to a spot at the back of the room as her breathing switched to manual. Her face felt hot, her vision narrowed, and there was a buzzing in her ears. Suki focused on her breathing afraid she might faint if she didn't get her head straight. How could this be happening? There were those she might have expected to see here, one of the other East Asian members of the ton perhaps - and there were more than a few but Mister Foxwood. Their dealings with one another had been resolved. This was too surreal to be borne. She just needed to get through the presentation.

.......

The dinner portion of the evening had been awkward, whether by fortune or design, she had been seated between Mister Foxwood and Mister Hayashi.  The latter had initially greeted her in English but his mother had made a sharp comment for him to speak properly with a portentous look that had caused him to switch to Japanese, an action Natsuko assumed was an attempt to freeze out Mister Foxwood, from whom Suki had been barely able to tear her eyes.  And while she had tried to engage Atticus in conversation the woman opposite, who was indeed the mother of Mister Hayashi had rather been able to run the table and keep her from really speaking with Mister Foxwood beyond a few polite words of greeting.  

It was only after dinner when each other gents received some time with each lady to 'pray' that she would get to speak to him - for what they were praying Suki wasn't entirely sure. Inspiration to marry presumably, but as she wasn't especially religious.  A small shinto shrine had been erected in a room with a set of chairs. She had spent her awkward meeting 'praying' in austere silence with Mister Watanabe, and then a further period talking to Mister Hayashi who, in fairness, seemed a pleasant, bookish second son who was clearly only getting married because his mother had aspirations of greatness for him.  But her eyes kept drifting to the door, unsure if she was dreading or thrilled for Mister Foxwoods entrance through it.  When Mister Hayashi had offered a deep, respectful and decidedly unwestern style bow and departed Natsuko had gone back to pacing the room in a fit of anxious nerves, wringing her fan.  She looked up abruptly as the door opened.  'Atti...Mister Foxwood,' she caught herself, 'What are you doing here? How are you here?' she pressed, unclear as to what could have brought him to this place tonight.  She felt strangely sick in anticipation of his answer.

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Gin made something stunning

Dinner, unluckily, was a terrible time for Atticus and Viola, who couldn’t seem to get an edge in word wise as Mr. Hayashi and his mother dominated the conversation. His fingers constantly strummed against his leg as he watched the man and his future wife (there was no other way of putting it lightly - Atticus was here for one reason and one reason only) converse in a language he didn’t understand. It was aggravating and he was pretty sure his mama was going to throttle the poor man’s mother when they stepped outside of the home. She glowered at the other woman as he listened to the foreign words. Was he promising her all the riches in the world? To love and cherish her? He highly doubted that, although he’d promise her the sun, the moon and the stars if that’s what she desired in life.

He only desired her.

As dinner ended and they were ushered away from the table, Atticus reached out to graze his hand against her in an act of reassurance that the only woman he had interest in was her.

She went one way as he went another, and soon he was ushered into a room to pray, although Atticus wasn’t quite sure what that actually meant. The shrine was well put together as he eyed it, unsure if he was to pray to find love and prosperity or something else entirely. He opted to not do anything. His first session was with a woman who seemed intent on marrying anyone who would offer their hand to her, leaving  their conversations strained because he had to explain that he wasn’t there for anyone except Miss Mountbatton. Neither were too keen on the other. The second session went just as poorly as the girl was nervous and spoke so much that Atticus wasn’t sure he spoke any words outside of his name and a greeting.

It was Miss Mountbatton’s room he was ready for, and he nervously inhaled as his fingers wrapped around the handle of the door before he pushed it open; and when she spoke his name he exhaled. Stepping into the room Atticus closed the door behind him before he turned his attention onto her, his lips curling into a smile. The world fell into place and he wanted to close the gap between them and kiss her like his life depending on it. She was radiate in her dress. But he couldn’t, so Atticus stopped in front of her. Her expression was unreadable but he hoped that she was pleased to see him.

“Natsuko…” He paused then before he added on, “Mountbatton, I am here for you. Poppy told me about the matchmaker and I couldn’t let you go through with it, but I’m afraid it was already too late to stop it. I couldn’t stop it then I knew I had to come because I need you. It is you, or no one.” Atticus reached forward to take her hand. “I love you.” He breathed out out the words as they hung between them, unsure if they would be enough to convince her to stay here, with him.

The ring in his pocket was still heavy and he knew he should sink to one knee, but Atticus wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that. Instead he knew he’d do a do-over, if she accepted of course, to ensure she got the proposal she deserved. But for now, this was going to have to do.

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Atticus didn't waste time before speaking, or perhaps he did and time had simply distorted for her. She hadn't fainted but she felt shivery and weak at the knees, as though a light breeze would send her light head spinning to the floor. Of course, Poppy had shared what was happening with her. Although her friend did not know the liberties she had already taken with him - the kiss in the garden haunted her dreams.

She took deep, tremulous breaths as he began to speak. She wanted to burst into tears, this was too much, she was feeling too much, too full of emotion. Her heart stopped - either that or it was beating so fast she could no longer feel it. Did he know that this wasn't a sickle a dance? That this was binding, and not a point of pride to have won the waltz of some lady or other. Did he know she would be leaving here affianced - a step beyond the courtship that he had offered.

His last words -'I love you' made her gasp out loud. She didn't understand why he wanted her and the thought did strange things to her stomach. She loved him too, she had loved him for some time, but hearing the words from him, that earnest expression on his face caused her heart to flutter uncomfortably. God he was amazing. She felt like sinking to her knees and burying her face in her hands. She had too many emotions that she felt like her body couldn't contain. She wanted to go to him, to cross the room and reach out for him, but she cursed society for not allowing it.

'Atticus I...' she tried to say, her voice coming out a little strangled, accompanied by a small sob 'I love you too, I've loved you since...' she trailed off because she couldn't think of exactly when to pin point it -somewhere between their first dance at Poppy's debut, to the first kiss that was seared across her memory, she was still in denial about just how long she had been head over heels with him.

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Gin made something stunning

Atticus could only watch Suki, waiting for her reaction; he hadn’t quite known what to expect when he came here, yet he was happy with what the result would be. It might seem quick for some, to have skipped courting for an engagement, but this was a decision he was ready to make. He inhaled sharply as he stepped forward upon hearing her gasp. He wanted to hold her, to touch her, but he knew he couldn’t.

Instead Atticus managed to softly smile at her, his heart fluttering at hearing her say the words too; part of him had known their kiss hadn’t been a dream as he’d led himself to believe, and it had been that memory that spurred him here, tonight.. “Since I laid eyes on you.” Atticus finished. Love at first sight was for fairy tales, but something in his gut told him that Natsuko was his; how quickly it come upon him had shocked him (and part of his brain was unwilling to believe it had happened, even if the rest of his brain and his heart told him otherwise.)

He cleared his throat as he met her gaze. “I came here for a reason.” He stepped forward and reached out to take her hand, where he ran his finger against her ring finger. “I was hoping it would be a little more planned, but I guess this will have to do. I can’t lose you.” Atticus' lips curled into a smile. "But I guess I have to wait until the end of the night to make it official, don't I?"

  

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She buried her face in her hands, over come with the emotion that Mister Foxwood loved her as she loved him, when she looked up again her smile was broad, and a little watery. If someone had asked her if she thought it was possible - she would have laughed in their face. Well she wouldn't have - she was politer than that but she would have thought it was a ridiculous. Indeed she had been entirely convinced that a conversation between herself and Atticus about the duties that were incumbent on heirs had been him politely putting her on notice that he could not consider her as a viable companion. That as the eldest son of a pureblood line there would be an expectation that he marry a lady like Miss Malfoy, who even Natsuko had had to admit was beautiful, affable and pureblooded. Natsuko knew that she herself was not without her charms, and her significant fortune would have found her a husband even if she looked like the back end of a cow - fortune hunters had a way of over looking those sorts of things. Although a gentleman

She moved to stand directly in front of him, as close as she dared, inches between them. 'If you are settled, when you leave me here, you can tell the nakodo, the match maker - the angry older lady in the hall, that you are...interested.' she was struggling to express this in a way that didn't seem strangely arrogant or domineering. 'unlike some of the other ladies here, whose families will be negotiating their arrangements I am free to accept my own arrangement.' Her aunt was only vaguely interested in the results of her omiai, only that Natsuko, if offered an arrangement should accept it - either here or in Japan - the important part for her aunt was that she not return to her home unmarried. 'I can say with some certainty that if you do make a suit - then it shall be accepted. she smiled up at him through her long lashes, it reminded her of that morning in the garden when she had lost her mind and kissed him. Desperate as she was now to touch him.

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Gin made something stunning

Atticus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he brought his hand up to gently graze against hers for a moment before allowing it to drop to his side. “There is no one else I am interested in.” He murmured softly, and his stomach flipped at the thought of walking out the door with a fiance. His family would be confused, maybe, especially given they’d skipped a portion of the courtship phase, but he’d take the time before the wedding to get to know her. A courtship and engagement in one. (And if he found he didn’t like her, which sounded like an impossible feat, there was always the option to break it off. But he doubted it – there was never going to be anyone except for her.)

“Then it is settled.” Atticus smiled down at her; he wanted to bend down and brush his lips against hers but it was entirely uncouth. Instead he shuffled backward. “I will see you soon, then.” He nodded his head toward the door; the sooner he could leave the room, the sooner he could make everything official. Things were swirling in his head, but they would be thoughts for another time. He had things to do right this second that required his utmost attention.

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She smiled up at him, before turning her face downward, demurely closing her lashes against his touch and proximity. As he departed Natsuko turned from the door, and clasped her hands before her face giggling in delight. She wanted to scream, to dance, to sing, but she comforted herself with a small cooing squel to herself, looking down at the ring now adorning her finger. She was engaged, and not to some kindly stranger, a foreigner looking for a bride, or a fortune hunter seeking to revive his coffers - but instead to a man she loved, who she believed to be kind and gentle and who professed to loving her.

A few seconds after he left, the door opened with her next gentleman, but the expression on her face, and the way she clutched at her hand, the ring now sparkling there, must have spoken volumes about what had passed between the petite Japanese woman and the handsome Englishman. His affected, flattering smile fell, and he offered a polite bow to her and left Suki to her excited musings.

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   Chuntao Chang

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Gin made something stunning