Let no man put asunder

At some time during the night I am disturb’d by a sound as of one moving about the next room. Sure I am a timid creature, but I still have the small pistol in my reticule, so I take that, and get out of bed to go walk softly to see what may be ado.

The sounds are coming from the private parlour, so I go look thro’ the door, and see that 'tis Lady Anna in her nightgown. I put the pistol back into my reticule and go in, closing the door so that we may not disturb those that sleep.

How now, says I, can you not sleep?

Oh, says Lady Anna, I did sleep a little and then I woke up and I found thoughts preying upon my mind, I thought did I get up and walk about a little might disperse ‘em.

Troubling thoughts? says I.

Oh, Lady B-, sighs Lady Anna, dear Mama did go about to talk to me about the duties of marriage, but indeed I find myself in some confusion as to what they might be. For she said a deal about how she dar’d say that dear Tony would be considerate and thoughtfull and unselfish and that I should have no worries -

Indeed I confide that he is all those things and I do indeed confide that you should have no worries, but I am like to suppose that you are not entire sure in what the duties of marriage consist.

(Sure had I been marry’d to Lord N- I should not know what to say to a daughter that would not send her running to become a nun rather than marry.)

Except that 'tis about making one’s husband happy, and sure I greatly desire to do so –

My dear Lady Anna, I am entire sure you will. But I mind that 'tis entire prudent to give a young lady some notion of what she may anticipate upon her wedding night –

She reaches to grip my hand and says, sure indeed, 'tis a mystery to me –

I squeeze her hand, and then tell her somewhat of the conjugal rites, and that I confide she will find them entire agreeable (for sure I have seen the two of 'em together when they were not performing a masquerade of indifference).

She is quiet for a little while and says, she can suppose that with a fellow one lik’d not 'twould not be agreeable?

Liking goes a good way, says I. But my dear, you should go back to bed and rest.

She stands up and stretches, then goes give me a kiss, and returns to her bedchamber. I hope her mind is easyer.

I return to my own bed. I look over to the truckle bed and see that Sophy sleeps very peacefull.

Some few hours later I am woke by a sound of bustle about. I look and see that Sophy must already be up, and I daresay about attiring Lady Anna and Lady Emily to go to church. 'Tis most exceeding early, but the intention is to undertake the service as soon as maybe.

I put on my peignoir and go see what’s ado. Indeed, Sophy arrays the two of 'em and they look exceeding fine.

The innkeeper’s wife comes and taps upon the parlour door to say that there is a young gentleman calls below, may he come up?

O, 'tis dear U-, cries Lady Emily.

He is shown in, embraces his sisters, and gives 'em pretty nosegays to carry. Come along, he says, I have a carriage all ready and waiting.

O, cries Lady Anna, but Lady B- is not yet ready.

Why, my dears, says I, I shall stay here so that I can make sure all is in order for the breakfast. ('Tis true, but also I have no wish to go into a Surrey parish where I may be recogniz’d by some idle bystander that gawks at the marriage party as Mrs C- that was a sea-captain’s wife.)

I shall see you, says I, before noon.

They both come up embrace me very warm and say 'tis indeed altogether exceeding good of me to take all this trouble, and then run down the stairs follow’d by Lord U-.

Sophy comes dress me and says she will go see about some coffee and mayhap a little bread and butter.

I look about the parlour and consider how the furnishings must be dispos’d to best accommodate the wedding-party. 'Twill be a small enough gathering.

I speak to the innkeeper’s wife that sends up a couple of fellows to move the table and dispose the chairs more suitable. There is deliver’d from the best pastrycook in the town a most excellent bride-cake, even can it not equal any that Seraphine or Euphemia might make. There are fine aromas arise from the kitchen that speak of the preparation of suitable bak’d meats.

Sure all is as under hand as might be, and there is naught I may do. I should like to go outside and walk a little – for pacing up and down the parlour might seem somewhat particular - but I am in some concern that here too Mrs C-, the sea-captain’s wealthy wife will be remember’d.

Comes one of the serving-maids and says, is a lady below comes with flowers.

Flowers? says I, for I had not gone about to bespeak flowers. Perchance 'tis a thought of Lord U-'s.

But comes up the stairway, her arms full of flowers and follow’d by a serving-man with several baskets more, Mrs U-, that is now quite the queen of the gardens of my Surrey house.

She puts down her burden, and says, dear Lady B-, I heard from that excellent fellow Jacob S- that there was a wedding going forth, somewhat quiet and private because of dissensions within the family, and I dar’d to suppose that some flowers would be very welcome to deck the place when the party come to celebrate.

O, I cry, 'tis quite the kindest thought, most exceeding good of you.

We go about to dispose the flowers to their best advantage, and indeed makes a deal of difference to the parlour.

But, says I, how do you? and Mr U-?

Mr U-, she says, has been oblig’d go spend a few days in the City on business, but 'tis not so deleterious to his health at this time of year. And she is entire well herself, the gardens do most excellent well at present and she also goes advize Mr S- about the gardens at the Hampshire estate where he is about setting matters in order.

She adds that she will not stay, but do I have a little time before my return to Town, would be delight’d did I come take tea. We part with expressions of great mutual amiability.

Very shortly after arrives the nuptial party all most exceeding merry: the Marquess and his new marchioness, Lord U-, Lady Emily, Jacob and Martha S-, along with little Deborah in a basket, and the Reverend Mr L-.

I have supply’d some champagne wine from my own cellars and this is brought up from where has been kept chill’d, while a deal of fine fare is laid upon the table.

The new-wed couple come express their exceeding gratitude - o, poo, says I, 'tis naught at all. (Sure from the way they look at one another and their fingers twine together I have no concerns at all about the wedding night.) They will go tonight to the S-s in Hampshire and then on to D- Chase – for, says His Lordship, he confides that none would expect one that makes a runaway match to go to his own estates.

And, says Lady Emily coming up to us, U- and I will contrive to send a trunk or two with some of her clothes so that she will not be oblig’d to wear the same two gowns day in day out.

The Marquess says, be sure to put in a riding-habit: I hazard he has gone desire Belinda to have Blackthorn convey’d to D- Chase.

We all fall to the fine breakfast that has been set before us, all very informal, for we are a small party and all friends. I exchange a deal of gossip and news with dear Martha, that tells me about the chickens she finds herself taking an interest in, and what most excellent fine eggs they lay. I admire Deborah that grows a fine bouncing infant that looks about her very knowing.

Mr L- conveys to me how very delight’d he is to have been of service in this matter. He then asks after that excellent young lady Miss S-. Sure, he says, must be a better thing to be the poor relation in the household she is in, for he confides that she is able to be a deal of help to her younger sister, than to be going out as a governess or a companion, but 'tis a sad matter to be oblig’d to eat the bread of dependence. No doubt her brother-in-law goes look about to make some suitable marriage for her?

By this I apprehend that he has no notion that Agnes S- is a well-provid’d heiress. I am reluctant to disclose this for I think he manifests very fine friendship towards her, that he might feel some reservation about did he fear imputations of fortune-hunting. Why, says I, at present, in the light of Lady D-'s condition, I do not think he is any great anxiety to get her sister off their hands for as you say, she is of considerable help within the household.

Indeed, he says, Lady D- is very young for the responsibilities that come upon her.

The bride-cake is cut and toasts are drunk, and then 'tis time for the party for Hampshire to depart. Mr L- says he must return to his parish. Lord U- and Lady Emily look at one another, and he says that he dares says 'tis entire wigs on the green at N- House about this race: tho’ confides 'twill be nothing to what will arise when Papa sees the announcement of this match. But, says Lady Emily, we may go shield poor dear Mama from his wrath.

After all have depart’d I go settle the reckoning and express thanks to the innkeeper and his wife, leave compliments for the servants &C, and go call upon Mrs U- to take tea.