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“That will suit me well enough. I’ll send round to the pastor about officiating later today.” Bradstone appeared with paper and a pen. Arthur made a quick note. “Say one month from today, and shall we have an earlier or later wedding?”
“Mid-morning would be the best choice.” Abigail folded her hands. “Mid-morning, with a wedding breakfast to follow, I think.”
“Nora?”
She nodded. “Yes. I think that would do well.”
“And the menu for the wedding breakfast?”
She took a moment to think of the types of breakfasts her sisters had enjoyed. “Perhaps, hot chocolates to drink, with a light, sweet wine for toasts. Then fresh-baked bread, fresh fruit, and a selection of sliced meats, with fruit ices and cream for dessert?”
“That sounds quite acceptable.” Abigail made some notes of her own. “Now then, the guest list. For the ceremony…”
Arthur exhaled. “You, of course. I shall have David stand with me. And Samuel as well, I suppose. Nora?”
“Scarlett, of course. For the second…” She paused. “I haven’t many acquaintances…” She flushed.
“It might be a bit irregular, but if you’ve no strong objections, I might recommend Annabelle Norburn. You might remember her. She was in some ways the reason we met.”
“Yes, she was…” Nora stopped, feeling her cheeks heat. “I had forgotten she was the lady I escorted from your study that morning.
“Yes. Though we’re not more than casual acquaintances now. However, I believe David is making some effort to court her, which would make her a good partner to him in the wedding party. And she’s not truly the bad sort. A bit self-indulgent, perhaps, but she’s a good heart on the whole.”
Nora considered the suggestion. She remembered the conversation that she and Miss Norburn had engaged in that fateful morning. She also recalled that the young woman had been at the birthday ball where Arthur had made his first proposal and at the dinner that had ended so abruptly.
She had not sensed any ill-will in her nor any condescension in any of their conversations. “If she will consent, I do not think I have any objections.”
“Good. Now, Nora dear, will you be inviting anyone from your family?”
Pain struck like a needle to the heart, and she swallowed against the old, familiar ache. “I... my aunt, Evelyn Dartmouth, in Bath. I promised I would send her an invitation. And Lydia, of course. The rest of my family…” She could not speak the words.
Arthur’s warm hand covered hers, and she looked into his kind eyes. “We shall set aside invitations enough for your family. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to send them.”
She swallowed again, this time against the sting of grateful tears. “I... thank you.” She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “In that case, I shall need invitations for my mother and father, my two sisters and their husbands, and any children they may have.”
“Excellent.” Abigail nodded. “I shall provide you both with a list of individuals you may wish to invite to the wedding breakfast for reasons of social exposure. You may decide which ones you would prefer to invite. And then after the wedding breakfast…”
“After the wedding breakfast, I think Nora and I should retire to the country estate for the honeymoon. It will give her a chance to see our seat and allow us privacy while permitting Lydia to stay in a place she is familiar with.”
For a moment, the thought of being separated from her daughter for some days made Nora’s stomach clench. It must have shown on her face because Arthur gave her hand a gentle press before he reached over and tugged her close, heedless of the awkward way the chair arm was digging into his ribs.
“Nora... dear heart, there is no reason to fret. We shall not be gone for more than a few days, I warrant, and there will be a number of individuals on hand to ensure Lydia is well looked after, Scarlett not the least of them.”
“He is right.” Abigail rose to come around the table and brush a kindly hand over her hair. “Your little darling is such a sweet child; I will wager that she has the entire staff wrapped around her finger long before your wedding day comes. I am sure she will be quite well.”
“And if by chance she is not, we have a family physician who can be called upon at any time, day or night, and the country estate is only perhaps two hours away with a fast horse. We will be well positioned to come straight back if we are needed.” Arthur’s large, strong hand rubbed a soothing line across her shoulders and back.
In the face of their encouraging words, Nora felt her fear fade away like the mists that had covered the lawn of her childhood home in spring mornings. She relaxed against Arthur’s grip. “You are right. It is only…”
“You have had to care for the child almost entirely on your own, just you and your friend since she was born. Such fears are natural when a mother begins to give her child some freedom.” Abigail’s voice carried the sound of experience, wistful, bemused, and fond. “But it is time for you to begin to find some time for yourself now, dear Nora. You will need it as the Duchess of Bedford, a wife, and a mother.”
She drew in a breath and held it, then exhaled slowly. “You are right.” She leaned back a little, and both Arthur and Abigail let her go, the Dowager returning to her chair while Arthur adjusted his position, grimacing ruefully as he rubbed at his ribs.
“What else do we need to plan?” Arthur’s gaze flicked over his notes.
“Decorations, for one, including the floral centerpieces for the table. Seating arrangements for another. And colors, so you and Nora will match, or at least complement each other.” Abigail eyed her son as if guessing at his desire to escape. “There is also the matter of the design and presentation of the official invitations, and the discussion of the vows, and whether or not you will both wear rings to symbolize your union.”
Nora shared a bemused look with her husband-to-be, and together, they bent their heads to the planning.
