30th November, 1884

For a woman who rarely noticed much about the interior decoration of other people's homes - unless it was truly, truly appalling - even Helena was struck by the efficiency and style with which Atalanta's newly rebuilt home in Wellingtonshire had been put together. She had barely done anything with the plot of land that still held the bare bones of her and John's one time abode, largely because they were happy and settled enough up at the castle but Helena's apathy towards Hogsmeade of late had not helped. It just seemed like too crowded a place these days and other people had never exactly suited either her or John.

It seemed to suit Atalanta though and Helena smiled in greeting when she was shown into the drawing room. Her sister-in-law was, as expected, still dressed in black and to Helena's mind the somber tones did not suit her especially well, but it could hardly be helped. It hadn't been as noticeable at the ball, the last time Helena had seen her, but now it was rather stark and upsetting.

"Attie darling," she pressed her lips to her sister's cheek and immediately took her hand. "You're looking remarkably well. Are you happy to be home?"