Chapter TwoI must have attended fifty weddings in my life, and most merge into my memory as a confusion of swirling gowns and long speeches, handsome men gradually succumbing to an excess of alcohol and weary-eyed women reminiscing quietly of their youth. The marriage of Marie to Gilbert Elliot was not quite of that ilk.
It was 15th November 1803, dull and dismal but thankfully not wet. I had to hire a post-chaise and driver, for Marie and Gibbie had chosen to marry at the church at Crichton, about fourteen miles south of Edinburgh. Perhaps you know Edinburgh, but if not, then pray forgive me while I explain something of the geography of my native city as it was back then.
Nature and history combined to divide the city into two halves, the ancient Old Town, or Auld Toon as the good neigh
