Mother.

[alt_crouch_jr]

I've no idea what you were thinking when you chose to make small talk with Mafalda Hopkirk--and in the presence of forty of your most inquisitive and least circumspect acquaintances over tea at the Wiltonian?--nor what exactly you said to give Hopkirk the impression that I should require a fortnight's leave after Christmas, but I assure you there is no honeymoon excursion in my plans.

I trust this closes the matter.

Comments

[alt_narcissa]

Oh, yes, I know all about tight schedules. And the importance of ensuring one's robes are only tight where one wants them to be, as well.

For myself, I've just finished my dancing lesson and I am more than ready for my tea! Sadly I shall have to wait until 3:00 for that refreshment, as I've another errand to run first.

Were you invited to the Magpies' benefit match next Saturday? Can't decide whether it will be too cold to attend the match itself but the party afterward is always quite diverting.

[alt_crouch_jr]

Yes, in fact. And I intend to be there, though you're right about the weather. This time of year you never know. But I agreed to let Mother hold a luncheon at Marlborough next Saturday--some fundraiser to stop squibbism or something--and I've no intention of being within thirty miles of that.

[alt_narcissa]

Squib prevention? Isn't that - well. A touch ambitious?

No doubt Aleta Featherstone and Madam Millingham-Kennilworthy put her up to it, despite the work that is going into ensuring that we shall never have to confront such a sad prospect again.

Oh. I've just been told there's a visitor. Excuse me.