Amanda Grange: Mr. Knightley’s Diary

"I need very little..."

"My dear Emma, you need say no more. Simplicity shall be our watchword. Satin there must be, and lace veils; we will make you the most beautiful bride. But hush, here comes Knightley," she said as I approached, though she had whispered so loud I had heard every word. "The menfolk know nothing of dresses. My caro sposo declared himself mystified by all the talk of satin and lace."

I rescued Emma, and Mrs. Weston kindly distracted Mrs. Elton, who, apart from occasional references to pomp and feast and revelry and Hymen’s saffron robes, was persuaded to talk of other things, until she discovered we are to marry next week.

"But Selina will not be here! She does not come to us until November. How she will stare when I tell her. There is not time to arrange everything in a week."

"Simplicity is our watchword," Emma reminded her, but Mrs. Elton was still exclaiming over it when she and Elton set out for home.

Friday 8 October

Today, Emma and I were married. I had the satisfaction of knowing I was marrying the best woman in the world, because she is the only woman for me. I have seen few sights better than the sight of Emma walking into the church on her father’s arm. Elton performed the ceremony and, if he remembered that he had once hoped to marry Emma himself, he gave no sign of it.

As we made our vows, I had the pleasure of hearing Emma call me George. She seemed to like it, too, for she called me George again at our wedding-breakfast, and I do not despair of her calling me George as a general thing.

Isabella and Mrs. Weston argued over whether Emma’s first child would be a boy or a girl, Isabella pressing the merits of a boy as firstborn, and Mrs. Weston pressing the merits of a girl.

"Whatever the case, Emma will be a very happy woman," said John. "Will she not?" he asked Mr. Woodhouse.

Mr. Woodhouse looked up from his gruel and sighed.

"Poor Emma!" he said.