Ophelia's head had been in a whirl ever since the healer had rather awkwardly broken the news to her that what she had suspected to be a persistent case of food-poisoning was in fact something else entirely. They had been anticipating a child ever since their wedding day, but Ophelia had refused to take any concrete planning steps towards preparing for one's arrival until she was actually pregnant. Her entire life had been plagued by bad luck, and she didn't want to invite any more in by seeming too confident in her future happiness. Now, however, there was simply too much to be done and not enough hours in the day. She'd written to a select few friends for their advice — namely November and Lucinda, who had both had babies already. Porphyria was unlikely to be much help.
Based on the rough timeline she'd been able to sketch out, it seemed most likely that the baby would arrive in January or February. The timing was ideal, really, since it meant that she would be recovered enough to participate in the social season again next year. The fact that it aligned with the Quidditch off-season meant Roberto would be home most of the time and would have plenty of leisure to get to know their new child. It did probably mean postponing travel plans again, but Ophelia didn't think she minded — Mongolia had been quite enough of an adventure for the moment.
When her husband spoke she was flipping through a magazine which listed instructions for knitting baby blankets, and wondering if it was acceptable to delegate that sort of task to a maid. There was something quite lovely about having home-made baby things, instead of store-bought, but Ophelia herself was rubbish at knitting. Would anyone know if she had the staff do it? Would it still have that home-made feeling?
"Curious indeed," she agreed, flipping the page of her magazine idly. "Do you suppose we'll be invited to the wedding? I don't know either of them very well personally, but I was thinking of asking Mrs. Fudge to come to one of our club parties. She owns a line of beauty products, but I've heard some mixed things about the quality. In any case, though, the resort is quite lovely this time of year. I suppose that's where they'll have the ceremony?"
His question caught her off guard, and she looked over at him blankly. "Tell you something?"
Based on the rough timeline she'd been able to sketch out, it seemed most likely that the baby would arrive in January or February. The timing was ideal, really, since it meant that she would be recovered enough to participate in the social season again next year. The fact that it aligned with the Quidditch off-season meant Roberto would be home most of the time and would have plenty of leisure to get to know their new child. It did probably mean postponing travel plans again, but Ophelia didn't think she minded — Mongolia had been quite enough of an adventure for the moment.
When her husband spoke she was flipping through a magazine which listed instructions for knitting baby blankets, and wondering if it was acceptable to delegate that sort of task to a maid. There was something quite lovely about having home-made baby things, instead of store-bought, but Ophelia herself was rubbish at knitting. Would anyone know if she had the staff do it? Would it still have that home-made feeling?
"Curious indeed," she agreed, flipping the page of her magazine idly. "Do you suppose we'll be invited to the wedding? I don't know either of them very well personally, but I was thinking of asking Mrs. Fudge to come to one of our club parties. She owns a line of beauty products, but I've heard some mixed things about the quality. In any case, though, the resort is quite lovely this time of year. I suppose that's where they'll have the ceremony?"
His question caught her off guard, and she looked over at him blankly. "Tell you something?"