1798

Sunday 7 October

Marianne and I were married this morning at Delaford church. Leyton stood up with me whilst Edward conducted the ceremony, and Marianne’s brother, John, gave her away.

‘I am surprised he managed it, for it is the first time he has ever given anything away in his life,’ remarked Margaret, who, at fifteen, is becoming decidedly saucy and is a great friend to Mrs Jennings.

‘If he’d listened to his wife, he’d have decided he couldn’t afford it, and he’d have ended up parting with nothing more than an arm,’ said Mrs Jennings, as she enjoyed the wedding breakfast. ‘Or, more like, a finger.’

Elinor, with her son in her arms, sat close by, and told them not to speak so loud for John would hear.

‘Tush! What if he does?’ said Mrs Jennings, before turning once again to Margaret. ‘Now, my dear, you will be sixteen soon. You must come and stay with me in Berkeley Street. You will break a great many hearts, I am sure: London is full of fine beaux!’

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