“...it doesn’t need to be perfect, Aunt Winifred.”
“Nonsense, dear, its your wedding day, of course it has to be perfect!”
Agnes sighed as her aunt fidgeted about with the skirts of her wedding dress for what must have been the tenth time in barely five minutes, but made no other movements or noises of protests. There was no point to it when she’d only receive the same response as she had the last several times, and thus she stayed put.
Or at the very least, she stayed put the best she could. Because it was taking everything in her to not just collapse into a overwrought heap of nervousness.
It was normal for brides to feel anxious, she supposed. Great-Aunt Winifred had said so, but then, Agnes wasn’t sure how much her aunt knew about weddings or being a bride given her perpetual state of spinsterhood. Nevertheless, Agnes tried not to think about it too much. For if she did, she knew she’d only begin trembling again as she had when she’d woken up this morning, and she’d only just managed to make herself stop.
Though whether she trembled with worry or excitement, it was hard to tell. Her mind was all aflutter with every emotion imaginable, at least the ones expected of a young woman about to be married. Why shouldn’t it be, after all? Her life as she knew it was about to change in such a grand way, she’d have a new home, a new name.
A new husband.
Oh, how she detested the fact that she couldn’t see her dear Will at this moment. She didn’t think she’d seen him for two days now, and she was sure she might just explode before she even made it down the aisle. “Its bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, after all," Aunt Winifred had tutted, much to Agnes' annoyance.
Oh well, no matter. It wouldn’t be much longer, it couldn’t be.
Today, she would become Mrs. William Barclay, just as she’d always dreamed she would.