"No, Your Grace. I have not seen Miss Poppy for over an hour."
Anxiety prickled at the base of Anthea's spine. This was not like Poppy. She could be impulsive, yes, but she adored Veronica. She would not miss her wedding.
"Perhaps she went ahead to the church?" Veronica suggested, though she looked uncertain.
"Perhaps," Anthea agreed, because they could not delay. Guests would be arriving. The ceremony would begin whether or not Poppy was in attendance.
They climbed into the carriage, Veronica's gown carefully arranged to avoid crushing. Anthea tried to focus on the day ahead, on ensuring everything went smoothly, but her mind kept returning to Poppy's absence.
Where was she?
St. George's was already filling with guests when they arrived. Anthea helped Veronica down from the carriage, then scanned the crowd for any sign of Poppy.
Nothing.
"She must be inside," Anthea said, more to convince herself than Veronica. "Come, we should go to the bride's room."
They made their way through the side entrance, nodding to guests who called out congratulations. In the small chamber set aside for the bride's final preparations, Anthea found Sybil and Cassandra waiting—but no Poppy.
"Have either of you seen my youngest sister?" Anthea asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Not since yesterday," Sybil said. "Is something wrong?"
"I am certain it is nothing," Anthea said, though the anxiety was building into something closer to genuine worry now. "She probably went directly to her seat."
But when Anthea checked the church itself, walking down the side aisle to scan the pews, she found no sign of Poppy among the assembled guests.
Gregory caught her eye from where he stood with Mr. Hartley near the altar. Raised an eyebrow in silent question.
Anthea shook her head slightly. Not now. She would deal with Poppy's mysterious absence after the ceremony.
Assuming there was a reasonable explanation.
Assuming nothing was actually wrong.
She returned to the bride's room and found Veronica looking anxious.
"Did you find her?"
"Not yet," Anthea admitted. "But the ceremony is about to begin. We cannot delay."
"What if something happened?" Veronica asked. "What if she is hurt, or?—"
"I am certain she is fine," Anthea said, with more confidence than she felt. "She is probably just... running late. You know how she loses track of time."
It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. But what else could they do?
The music began—the signal that the ceremony was starting.
"Ready?" Anthea asked, offering her arm.
Veronica took a deep breath. Nodded. "Ready."
They processed down the aisle together. Anthea was hyperaware of the guests watching, of the whispered speculation about Poppy's absence, of Gregory's concerned expression as they passed. But she kept her chin high, her steps measured, her focus on getting Veronica to the altar where Mr. Hartley waited with an expression of such open adoration it made Anthea's chest ache.
This was what mattered. Veronica's happiness. Her future. Whatever was happening with Poppy could be addressed after.
Anthea placed Veronica's hand in Mr. Hartley's, stepped back to her designated position, and tried to focus on the ceremony.
