CHAPTER 17
DUNDEE, JULY 1827
We married in St Mary's Church beside the Old Steeple, where my mother and I were regular members of the congregation. Mr Grieve did the needful, with his voice filling the great echoing spaces of the church and booming fit to frighten the French, although what the French have to do with my wedding I cannot tell you.
Naturally, with anything to do with the Fairweathers or the Eassons, the church was full to bursting, with weather-beaten seamen looking uncomfortable in their Sunday best, and prim wives keeping them under control.
I had spent time over my appearance, with a delicate blue dress that my mother and I had laboriously tailored to my rather buxom shape. As I stood at the altar with a church of supportive women and men behind me, I glanced at Kenny
