Much as Sir Edward would have wished for a quiet wedding—just simply the Merivale party and a few of his own relatives—it is found to be impossible, under all the circumstances. So Doris finds (not entirely to her chagrin) that she is, after all, to have the grand wedding which she has always promised herself on the occasion of her union with the much-talked-of duke. Although the house for the next three weeks is in a perfect uproar of preparation regarding everything appertaining to the bride's trousseau, much trouble, and expense too, is taken off their hands by the Mr. Talboys, who insist, taking no denial, on giving the breakfast at their own house.
Grave and long, therefore, are the consultations held by the old gentlemen with Mrs. Edwards, their cook and housekeeper, and anxious the discussions with Priscilla, the parlour-maid, on the subject of certain valuable silver and china, which are stored away in the depths of a capacious closet, and have not seen the light of day for years.
Nearly all Doris's time is taken up in trying on and being fitted, until she hardly knows what dresses she does possess. Many are the notes of thanks, too, which she has to write for the really nice presents she receives, conspicuous amongst which are a beautiful set of amethysts from Mr. Edward, and another of fine pearls from Mr. Benjamin Talboys.
Sir John and Lady Woodhouse have come forward most generously in the matter of the trousseau, the former having said to his wife: "We must see that little Doris is well set up for gowns and bonnets and so forth, my dear. I should not like her to step into such a position scantily supplied. You see it is our duty, as it were, to see the affair all through satisfactorily, the young people having met so often while Doris was under our charge."
And so the rich silk embroidered with seed pearls in which Doris now stands, waiting for her carriage, has been the gift of her kind uncle, as well as most of the other dresses; and while, before starting for the church, he clasps upon the girl's wrist a slender band of pearls (his wedding present), he whispers to her, "You must never forget, my dear, that I was the attraction, and that Sir Edward always came to see me, not you, you know!" and laughingly patting her cheek, he trots away after his wife.
No less a personage than the Earl of Castleton has solicited the honour of giving away the bride, partly on account of his friendship with Sir Edward, but quite as much for the real liking he has taken to "little Miss Doris," as he calls her.
Lord Castleton seems every bit as nervous as Doris herself on this occasion, for he fusses about the room, first to the window then to the mantel-piece, taking little sniffs here and there at the flowers, then back again to the window. He can think of nothing particular to say either, excepting every now and then expatiating on the beauty of the day, which has certainly turned out lovely, and also begging Doris not to be nervous.
He is just admiring the beautiful diamond necklace (Sir Edward's gift) which Doris wears, when the carriage is announced, and the earl, with a dignity which fills the stragglers at the gate with awe, proudly conducts the bride to it.
Lord Hinton acts as best-man to his friend, Sir Edward, and the ceremony once over, he of course takes Honor into his charge as first bridesmaid, Dr. John Sinclair accepting the inevitable with a fairly good grace, remarking as he follows the rest of the party down the aisle with Molly on his arm:
"You and I must console each other, Molly; we both seem rather out of it to-day, though your turn will come as surely as mine yet."