Wortham, May 15th, 1763

My wedding day.

After the wedding breakfast, I bade my family farewell. My father took aside Lord C.; mother came to the carriage door once more and patted my hand. 'I´m very proud of you, my darling girl.' said she, tears in her eyes. I felt pity for her. For all of them. And I was angry. Unbelievably angry. I will not write to them for some time. 'And write to me as often as you can, my dear. You will need some time to get to used to the house and you will have quite a different schedule as a married woman. Don´t forget to be kind, modest and to keep your voice down. You will make your husband a fine, respectable and proper wife, I´m sure of it.' - She wanted to kiss my cheek, but I leaned back against the cushions, averting my eyes. (An exercise I had refined by the time his Lordship and I arrived at an Inn shortly before nightfall.) I had them cast down already when he climbed in the carriage. But I saw him waving his hand towards my parents, who were standing right next to my window. 'We can invite them for a couple of weeks in the summer or for the shooting in autumn. Your father will be happy to rid me of some of my birds or go stag hunting, I daresay' he said; I could hear the smile in his voice. 'Don´t be too sad, my dear. Your family is not that far away. Two days with a carriage. You will see them as often as you please.' And he wanted to take my hand in his, but I withdrew it by brushing a curl, that wasn´t there, behind my ear and kept looking down and then out of the window. On the other hand I´m glad to get away. Now I know what Harriet meant of freeing herself from her family. They neither understood her, nor wanted to. And now, I did not care about them back at Wortham.

Lord C. tried to coax me into some conversation a couple of times, but ceased after noticing that I was set on stubbornness not talking to him, or anybody. I felt rude. But I couldn´t bring myself to admit that I´m his now, until the day I die. I still cannot. It is past midnight, I´m still writing this, the candle left on my table barely letting me see what I am writing. I want to cry, but dare not, because he could hear me. His room is right next to mine. I can see the light still in his chamber beneath the door. I´m tired, my head aches and breathing isn´t an easy task, for I keep the tears back. Oh please, let him go to sleep, so I can find it as well!