July 1st, 1763

Today was a day full of activity. The Littledales buzzing like bees to get everything done for the wedding. The bride busy with being nervous, the groom even more of that. Harriet and I stole ourselves away into the park to talk and have a little peace. The other men went riding and some I think fishing... The bride's father priding himself to have his last daughter married so well and the groom's father wishing all the trouble to be over with.

I stayed in my room all morning, not wishing to see anyone, neither Harriet nor her Clive. I am sort of sick of all this love around me. It's not even my friend, but also Lord C's friends and the newly-weds to-be. All this happiness about the wedding. It makes me envious on one hand, because I didn't feel that way when I got married, and furious with myself on the other hand, because I am not the wife my husband deserves. I could see him eyeing his friends at last nights ball and how contented the young Littledale seemed to be.
Still the whole time he was very gracious and not a soul would think him unhappy. Nor me. As it is usually uncommon to show marital felicity, we are not supposed to radiate happiness.
For the young couple here it is a love match, their families very modern and not opposed to see them flirting and though Harriet and Clive don't show their mutual love for each other like the bride and groom do, it is plainly visible how they feel. I wonder if Lord Cs friends asked him about how he likes to be married. (Harriet told me, that one is not truly married after all, when there wasn't a wedding night... - So THIS is still to come.)


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