September 4, 1893 — Dempsey Residence

Typically, Lycoris did not tend to think overly much on her continued status as a single debutante. She had her art, her friends, her family, her life was quite fulfilled even without the presence of a consistent suitor. And the suitors that she had were not yet at the stage of going past regularly seeking out her dance card at balls. The last time she had dramatically bemoaned her singlehood had been on her birthday which she had recovered from a day later and never spoke of again.

Until now, when she came flouncing into her parents room, finding only her mother there. She lost no time collapsing onto her mothers bed.

"Mama, I am going to die alone, sequestered in the attic as I am forced to look after Ozys children and grandchildren," Lycoris bemoaned, her tearful words muffled by the blankets and pillows beneath her head. This time around, she had been set off by a man she had been lightly flirting with for the past couple of months having been announced as courting someone. Who was not Lycoris Dempsey.

Lowri Dempsey

  

Lowri did not think herself a hovering society mama whose sole concern was to see the marriage of her daughters through (she had Phyri to thank for that); however it was in times like these where she questioned her resolve. It was also such a time wherein she questioned her and Eamon’s motives to weave poetry into the very fabric of their family. She was used to both exhibiting dramatics and experiencing them first hand from her offspring, but a part of her seemed to fracture every time one of her children seemed to voice their woes in the most wretchedly heartbreaking and descriptive manner that only they could.

“Now now, dear,” She soothed, immediately abandoning her embroidery in her chaise and hurrying to her daughter’s side. She reached out a hand to pat Lycoris’ dark curls (gently, she didn’t want to think about the telling off she’d get from the maid if she messed Lycoris’ hair up). “For one, your brother and his wife do not have children yet, and even if they were pregnant right now they —” Lowri broke off mid-sentence as the conversation she’d had with her eldest last month suddenly resurfaced and she paused as she briefly recalled her conversation with her son. “— you would still have quite some time.”

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Lycoris continued to sob into the pillows as he mother came to her side. That pat on her dark curls was a soothing comfort but only a light balm to her currently wretched heart. Her mother had a point about the current childless state of Ozymandias and Thomasina. Lycoris personally did not think either were inclined to become parents anyway though she had no idea how one controlled those things (and rightly so). She did know it was not always something one could prevent considering the handful of unwed mothers she was vaguely aware of.

"I was hardly in love with Mister Willoughby but how could he flirt so blatantly only to announce soon after he is courting someone else?" Honestly, what a waste of her time. And never mind that Mister Willoughby had been a bit dull and thus would never have held Lycoris's interest long term anyway.

Lowri Dempsey

  

“Mr. Willoughby, you say?” Lowri echoed mildly, her mind already averting to the possible ways she might get in contact with said heathen. For research purposes, of course. Sighing, she picked up her wand from the bedside table and waved it to summon a tray of tea, milk and sugar. “Forgive me for potentially ruining your sulking my dear but was he not the…” She cleared her throat, searching for the correct and least offensive words possible. “Most….enticing of conversationalists?” If she remembered correctly, she’d encountered him at a society ball a few months ago and nearly fell asleep holding her cup of tea.

Speaking of tea, theirs had arrived, and Lowri quickly conjured a tray table so she might begin to prepare a tisane for her daughter.

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