In the afternoon, Edgar sat down to write the invitation letters for the event in his father's old study, now completely devoid of shelves and books. All that remained was a desk and a chair. On the desk were a candelabra and an ink pot. Edgar dipped the pen and then wrote. Then he dipped it again and added more sentences. Without realizing it, he created the first invitation, took the envelope, and wrote on it:
"For Miss Sofia Swan."
He slipped the letter into the envelope and sealed it.
Then, as if in a trance, he wrote a new one... again and again. He even wrote one for Angelica and her duke, but then he preferred to tear it up.
"I know what you just threw away," his father said, entering his own study. "It was an invitation for Angelica, wasn't it?"
"I don't think she'll come."
"Without an invitation, she certainly won't."
"Maybe that's for the best. She's a married woman, and she... broke my heart."
"How long are you going to keep blaming her?"
"Maybe until I get married."
"Well, this reception could be an opportunity to find a woman."
"Preferably one who can read."
"Or one who simply reads the invitations," said his father.
"With my handwriting, even those are hard to read."
"Can't argue with that."
"Why did you come here?" Edgar asked.
"I wanted to make sure you prepared an invitation for Miss Swan too."
"Of course."
"Good." His father turned to leave, but Edgar wasn't finished.
"Do you think she'll come?"
"Who?" asked his father. "Angelica or Miss Swan?"
"Miss Swan," Edgar said, and just pronouncing her last name made him a little uneasy. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flush on his face. He was blushing like a teenager.
"She'll come," said Mr. Scott. "She's our guest. How could she miss it?"
"She might use the excuse of needing to study, or..."
"She'll come," his father insisted. He left and closed the door behind him.