Captain Wentworth's Diary

Friday 9 June

Today, Anne and I were married. As I saw her walking down the aisle on her father’s arm, I no longer thought of the years we had wasted, but the years we had to come. She was attended by her sisters, and the church was full of the Elliot tenants, who had come to see her married. Lady Russell was there, and Mrs Smith, too. Edward and Eleanor were sitting beside Sophia and Benjamin. Harville was there, and the Musgroves, all come to wish us well.

After the ceremony, we returned to Kellynch Hall for the wedding breakfast.

‘Have you seen?’ asked Mary, as we emerged from the dining-room. ‘Papa has been writing in the Baronetage.’

Anne took up the book, and there it was, the news of our marriage, written in Sir Walter’s hand, after the date of Anne’s birth.

It was something I had never expected to see, but, under Lady Dalrymple’s influence, Sir Walter had come to value a captain, or, at least, to realize that others valued him, and for Sir Walter, that was enough.

But was it enough for me?

As we went out to the carriage, I found myself thinking of the future.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Anne asked me.

‘I am thinking that I am still young, and that there is time for me to go further in the world. How do you like the sound of Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth?’

‘I am content to be Mrs Wentworth, but since you achieve everything you set your mind to, I believe I must accustom myself to being Lady Wentworth before very long.’

‘You believe in me!’ I said, touched to the depths of my being.

‘I always have done,’ she said.

‘Then I have nothing left to wish for.’

‘Except a knighthood,’ she teased me.

‘A knighthood to begin with, and then, who knows?’

I handed her into the carriage and we set out for the future.