I know I haven't been a very good friend to either of you since Christian died, and I apologise for that. But I wanted to say how terribly sorry I am to hear of Max's death, and to express my deepest condolence to you both. If there is anything I can do for either of you, please let me know.
I know that we need to talk about Thursday's meeting and everything that happened, and particularly about Moira and Narcissa and Beth, but after yesterday's news, I'm afraid I'm a little shattered. Perhaps sometime next week?
I wish I knew what to say to make things better for you about Thursday. I shut my journal after Mrs Longbottom wrote and I'm only really now catching up. If you resigned from the Purple Hats, I would understand completely, and would respect that decision. I hope we'd still be friends, though.
I read the article about Max Wilkes. Normally I wouldn't ask, but could you tell me if what it said was true?Please tell me you didn't kill Max, Daddy
I'm so sorry about Max. I know there will be a reprisal for his death, if what the Prophet said is true. Please tell me if there's anything you need from me for that.
I'm sorry if I just made myself a target, but I cannot stand one more minute of reading people justify Christian's and Dahlia's murders. I don't expect them to care about my feelings because I'm just a nasty pureblood with disagreeable politics. That makes it all right to kill me, never mind insult me to my face.
I'll talk to Daddy about my wards, though.
Following on the happy family news and all of our discussions about it, Louis and I have some thoughts about the wedding. We think it would be best to hold it in the afternoon and to make it a less formal occasion, more oriented to complete families, and include children in the guest list, in honour of the newest member of our family.
It would also, as Louis and I have discussed, change the menu and the drinks since we'd not be having dinner. That's not as significant a concern to me but it would rein in our costs.
Daddy, Isolde, please let me know what you think. And congratulations, again, on this wonderful news.
Ladies, it's my pleasure to tell you that Isolde, my stepmother, is going to have a child later this year. As you can imagine, for all that I'm very happy about the news, it does present some complications where the wedding is concerned. We're discussing moving the wedding to the afternoon so we can make it more of a family occasion. I'll let you know what my father and Isolde decide about that.
No matter what happens, I'm going to get married on 2 June and you ladies are going to be my bridesmaids and it's all going to work out. Thank you for being my friends and a part of my wedding and putting up with all my dithering.
Mrs Goyle, would you consider allowing Rosalind to be the flower girl in our wedding this June? Louis is asking Oscar Ketteridge, who is one of his groomsmen, to allow her cousin Graham to be our ringbearer, and we'd like it very much if Rosalind would grace our wedding party as well. Grace Burke, whom I understand tutors Rosalind, is one of my bridesmaids, and she can help with Rosalind during the rehearsal.
Of course I'll understand if it's too much of an imposition. However, Louis and I would love to make Rosalind a part of our special day.
I just wanted to say, now that the wards are definitely working again, that I very much enjoyed staying at the townhouse this weekend. I should enjoy doing so again if you wanted to arrange it.
I hope you ladies are sufficiently recovered from both the wedding and from all the trouble before it to have attention to spare for the wedding. I've got all sorts of things I'd love your opinions on, particularly the choice of gowns (mine and yours) and flowers. I should like everything to be in pinks and purples. I know, Felicia, I am such a girl sometimes!
Would it be easier if I just pasted things into my journal or should we meet and have drinks and go over them?
I heard the demand of the Dark Lord. Do you know if any information is needed from me for whatever He plans? I'll make arrangements to bring it by if so.
If I need to give you something while you and Moira are away, what should I do?
I was going to ward you about Sunday and your sister's wedding, but I think this morning's message has driven everything quite out of my mind. I know it's irrational, but please let me know you're well.
I heard the message. Do you want me to bring you dinner from somewhere on the Alley tonight, or will you be able to go homeat allat a decent hour?
I'm sorry if I wasn't very good company last night. You're very good to put up with me when I'm mopey. I do think we got some good planning done on how to allot responsibilities to keep everyone from killing each other. I do feel a bit better now about everything; you were right that a good night's sleep makes everything better.
I love you very much and I'm very glad we're getting married.
Isolde, my father and I have been discussing your generous offer to host my wedding to Louis. We'd like to come by the house one evening this week to discuss where we'll seat people for the ceremony and the reception, and to discuss the invitation list as part of that. (I know Mum and the Harpers will also have some people in mind, but until we know how many we can accommodate, we can't speak to that.) Please let me know what day would be convenient for you; we can work with your schedule.
I meant to ward you last night about your luncheon with your sister, but with all the excitement, I'm afraid I quite let that slide. I'm very sorry. But tell me, how did it go? Is there any hope of things improving in the near term?
I know you must have been buried in parchments after all the trouble at the Prophet and the WWN, so I haven't wanted to disturb you. But do tell me that you're all right, or I shall have to come down to the DMLE and check on you in person. And then you may be solicited for opinions on flowers and the merits of shrimp toast versus smoked salmon on toast, and we can't have that in public, even if enough time has passed for it to be all right to talk about frivolous things again.