Seeking Persephone

Will you pick that up, Artemis?

I don't know why we have to do this.

Because we like to eat.

But we're only paid pennies.

Pennies that keep our family from dire straits.

I do not enjoy

washing the neighborhood's laundry any more than you do.

But being upset about it won't change our situation.

Open the door, sweetheart.

I have had an atrocious day,

and now I have to open the door.

I'm sorry you've suffered so much.

I fear you will simply have to continue

in your wretched state a bit longer.

I will open the door,

but do not be surprised if I lie on the floor and die.

I will be many things if that happens,

my sweet little Artemis,

but above all I will not be surprised.

She has "died" from far less than this in the past.

Was father wandering again?

Daphne.

Persephone. You're home.

Was father wandering again?

Until a letter came.

Then he went back up to his study.

Did he say whom the letter was from?

You know father doesn't usually talk to me.

Well, once I've cleared the clutter he spread,

sorted the laundry, and started our meal,

then I very much wish to talk with you

about whatever you've learned today.

It's ever so interesting and terribly useful.

I cannot wait.

Thank you, Persephone.

Of course, Daphne.

You did say this might happen.

Yes, I did.

And what has brought you

to such a horrible end this time?

My suffering is too great,

no words can possibly describe it.

Is this because I could not buy you a sweet

from the confectionery shop?

That was tragic.

But not the reason you're expiring on the floor?

I didn't see my friend.

I watched for him, and he didn't come.

He hasn't in ever so long, and it's deeply devastating.

This is the friend I can't see?

The friend you don't see.

Ah.

Do you think your friend would visit you again

if we had bread pudding tonight?

Bread pudding?

I have a bit of stale bread.

And Mrs. Sanford gave me some cream.

I think we should have bread pudding tonight.

It is not even my birthday.

Bread pudding is quite possibly my favorite thing

in all the world.

Of course, if you are dead on the floor

you won't be able to have any.

I am all better!

It is a miracle!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

You're very welcome, my darling little Artemis.

How do you like the latest fashions?

These are not the latest.

Mrs. Upton gave me these

because she received the most recent version.

But they are very nearly the latest.

That is gorgeous.

Isn't it?

I've added it to my list of dreams.

Mm, that must be quite a list by now.

Isn't that what dreaming is for?

Believing in those things you fear you'll never have

but want to continue hoping are possible?

Like having money enough and happiness, falling in love.

I want you to have all of those things, Athena.

You must have dreams too.

Certainly I do.

Artemis' spirits not being dampened

by the heaviness of life.

Daphne finding a friend who helps her feel seen

and cared about.

Evander and Linus returning home to us whole.

That is far from guaranteed

for two midshipmen in the navy during wartime.

I should've done more to keep them home and safe.

There was nothing more you could've done.

I could've taken in more laundry,

or reduced my portions at meals.

I could've gone without fires in my room.

And it likely still would not have been enough.

I suppose that is my version

of "hoping for impossible things."

None of the hopes that you've mentioned

have been of dreams for yourself.

Seeing this family happy is dream enough for me.

Fetch Daphne and Artemis and take them to the kitchen.

I do not know how frustrating he might be this time.

Have you received a letter?

We have a very significant problem.

What has happened, papa?

Evander? Linus?

Oh, no, I haven't heard anything about your brothers.

Oh.

I have, however,

received the most befuddling letter.

You, my dear, have received an offer of marriage.

A what?

An offer from an incredibly wealthy gentleman

with an old and, um, prestigious title.

Good heavens!

Yeah.

What I cannot fathom is why the duke has settled on you.

He cannot even be remotely acquainted with our family.

The duke?

Of course, dear, the Duke of Kielder.

The Duke of Kielder has asked for my hand in marriage?

Quite specifically.

I do not believe a word of it.

After all, I do not know His Grace,

or any Grace, for that matter.

"Mr. Lancaster,

I am requesting

the hand of your eldest daughter in marriage.

I am prepared to settle upon your three remaining daughters

20,000 each for their dowries

and 50,000 upon yourself for the sake of your sons.

The ceremony will take place October the first

at the Falstone chapel.

Please reply as to your intentions.

Yours, et cetera, Kielder.

That is certainly not the most romantic

nor flattering of proposals, to be sure.

"The ceremony will take place."

There's not the slightest acknowledgment

that the unforeseen offer might be declined.

This offer amounts to more than 100,000 pounds.

What is the Duke of Kielder like?

Like?

Well, couldn't say.

I've not met the current duke.

What was his father like?

Uh, dull as dishwater.

But his mother is an active sort.

100,000 pounds?

I can hardly comprehend such a sum.

It is more than 500 years' worth our current income.

It is more than five times the income of the Duke of Sussex,

and he is the son of the king.

Good heavens.

We would have food enough to eat.

We would not need to wash laundry for pennies.

The boys could soon leave the navy and return home.

All of your impossible dreams

would suddenly be entirely possible.

This would not merely save our family;

it would save generations of our family.

But the Duke of Kielder

might be prone to anger or unkindness.

What, what if he mistreats you?

What if being married to him makes you miserable

for the rest of your life?

It is also possible he will be kind and considerate.

You don't know anything about him?

Only that he clearly has a tremendous amount of money

and wishes to marry me.

He gave no indication why.

You needn't simply accept this offer.

One may yet come from someone that you at least know

won't treat you abominably.

There will be no other offers.

If I do not accept this one, our family will sink further.

Even the simple hopes we currently have

will be out of reach.

But then all of your hopes would be snatched away.

This family's happiness is worth every sacrifice.

Isn't your happiness worth something as well?

Artemis has always told

the tale of Hades and Persephone quite accurately.

Persephone doesn't get to be happy.

Then you mean to accept the duke's offer?

Who invited all these people?

I did.

It is not every day my poor boy takes a bride.

This was supposed to be a quiet ceremony.

I do not believe Miss Lancaster has invited anyone

beyond her own immediate family.

I did not intend to cause awkwardness, Adam.

I only wish to celebrate.

I wonder if the chit'll actually turn up.

Try to resist the urge

to run through any of the wedding guests.

Where the devil is she?

Another five minutes and I'll go retrieve her myself.

When is this going to start?