Chapter Twenty Three The Morning #2
Granny happened to Seb while he was checking final arrangements.
Seb had been circulating with his clipboard, making final adjustments, radiating professional calm.
He was good at this, managing anxious mothers, soothing nervous grooms, projecting the particular confidence that comes from having planned a hundred weddings and survived them all.
He had handled Elizabeth. He had charmed Viktor.
He was, in his own estimation, the master of any social situation.
Then he met Granny.
‘Mr Wilde.’ She appeared at his elbow, as she had appeared at Viktor’s, with the kind of stealth that suggested a lifetime of practice. ‘A word?’
‘Granny! Of course. Anything at all.’
‘I’d like to discuss the security arrangements.’
Seb blinked. In fifteen years of planning weddings for the wealthy, anxious and occasionally deranged, no one had ever asked him about security arrangements. Flower arrangements, yes. Seating arrangements, constantly. But security?
‘The… security arrangements?’
‘How many points of entry to the grounds? How many to the house? What is the response time for local emergency services? Is there a room that can be secured from the inside? Where are the keys to the chapel kept overnight?’
Seb’s clipboard, I noticed, had lowered several inches. His professional smile had developed a quality of mild alarm.
‘I… well, there’s the main gate, obviously and the service entrance and I believe there’s a side door near the kitchen garden…’
‘Three. Good. And the gamekeeper, does he do rounds, or is he purely decorative?’
‘I’m not sure I… Mrs Ashworth-Pemberton, may I ask what exactly you’re concerned about?’
Granny looked at him with the patient expression of someone explaining a simple concept to a talented but slow student.
‘I’m not concerned about anything specific, Mr Wilde. I’m concerned about everything in general. It’s a habit one develops.’ She smiled. ‘The chapel. The keys?’
‘On a hook. In the vestry. I think.’
‘You think. I see.’ She made a small note in a leather-bound book that she produced from somewhere about her person.
It was, I noticed, considerably smaller than Seb’s clipboard but gave the impression of containing considerably more useful information.
‘And the lighting; the external lighting. Can it be controlled from inside the house?’
‘Granny.’ Seb drew himself up. ‘I have planned weddings at Blenheim Palace. I have planned weddings on private islands. I once planned a wedding on an aircraft carrier. I can assure you that Hartington Hall is perfectly’
‘An aircraft carrier?’ Granny raised an eyebrow. ‘How many exits did it have?’
Seb opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at his clipboard as if hoping it might rescue him.
‘Two,’ he said quietly. ‘If you include jumping overboard.’
‘I always include jumping overboard.’ Granny patted his arm. ‘You’re doing a wonderful job, Mr Wilde. The flowers are exquisite and the timeline is impeccable. But flowers and timelines are Elizabeth’s department. Security is mine.’
She moved away, leaving Seb standing in the middle of the Long Gallery with his clipboard clutched to his chest and the expression of a man who had just been comprehensively outranked by someone a third of his size and twice his age.
‘Henry,’ he said to me, in a small voice. ‘What was that?’
‘That,’ I said, ‘is Granny.’
‘She’s terrifying.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes she is.’
???
I found James in his room at 2pm, surrounded by a chaos of morning suits, discarded ties and ushers in various states of undress.
‘Not that left, the other left.’ I said, gently removing the flower from where James had pinned it to his right lapel.
‘Does it matter?’
‘To your mother, it matters enormously. And she is already furious with your changes, so let’s not give her ammunition.’
Freddie emerged from the bathroom, tie in hand, looking baffled. ‘How does this work again? The tying bit?’
‘You’ve worn a tie before, Freddie. Many times.’
‘But this one’s different. It’s got a pattern. The pattern confuses me.’
‘The pattern is stripes. Diagonal stripes. It’s not complicated.’
‘Everything is complicated on days like this.’ He thrust the tie at me. ‘You do it. I’ll stand still.’
I tied Freddie’s tie, a task I had performed at least a dozen times over the years, while Rupert attempted to locate his cufflinks and Archie tried to remember whether he had promised to bring his girlfriend or simply thought about it without actually following through.
‘I’m sure I mentioned it,’ Archie said, scrolling through his phone with increasing desperation. ‘I definitely meant to mention it. Does that count?’
‘It does not count,’ Rupert said. ‘Mentioning and meaning to mention are entirely different things.’
‘She’s going to be furious.’
‘Sophie seems like a reasonable person. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
‘You haven’t seen her when she’s furious. It’s quite something.’
James, meanwhile, was standing at the window, staring out at the grounds where guests were beginning to arrive. His face had the particular expression of a man who has just realized that something enormous is about to happen and is not entirely sure he’s ready for it.
‘Having second thoughts?’ I asked, joining him.
‘No. No, definitely not.’ He paused. ‘Maybe third thoughts. Or fourth. Is there a limit on the number of thoughts one can have before it becomes a problem?’
‘I think cold feet are traditional. Expected, even.’
‘I don’t have cold feet. My feet are fine. My feet have never been more confident.’ He turned to face me. ‘It’s everything else that’s terrified.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of not being good enough and disappointing her. Of her waking up in twenty years and realising I’ve wasted her time, that she could have done better, that I was just a placeholder until someone worthier came along.’
‘James.’ I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re not a placeholder. You’re the man she chose. The man she’s about to marry. If she thought she could do better, she wouldn’t be here.’
‘You really think so?’
‘I really do.’ And in that moment, despite all my reservations, all my suspicions, all the things I had noticed and filed away, I meant it. Whatever Anastasia was hiding, whatever secrets she carried, her love for James was real. That much I was certain of.
‘Right.’ James straightened his shoulders, visibly gathering himself. ‘Right. I can do this. I’m going to get married. To the love of my life. In front of everyone I know.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘And I’m definitely not going to trip walking down the aisle.’
‘Come on, it’s time to go, one step at a time and don’t forget to pick your feet up.’