Persephone dusted off a bit of sawdust on her arm after shaking the good doctor's hand. "Nice and healthy, indeed. I've felt the most alive I ever have since coming to Whitby, despite how I miss my sister." Persephone was very close to Harriet, her younger sister by thirteen years, and she did, indeed, miss her dearly. Harriet was still in London, and Persephone felt her heart sink as she remembered the whole reason her parents sent her to Whitby: to find a suitor and marry before the year was up or lose contact completely with the family and, most importantly, with her sister. The only thing was... Persephone didn't want to marry. Every single man she'd known who might want to court her had been the type to take away whatever liberty she had if they were married, and Persephone was not about to accept that. If only there was another way, another type of man who would allow her her independence and maybe even help her pursue her dream of becoming an architect.

"Persephone Blythe," she added after a moment lost in her own thoughts, "I'm rather new in town."