Two of the leading characters of Barbara Taylor Bradford's novel are Edwin and the eponymous Emma, and yesterday was a perfect day for another Emma and Edwin's marriage - in the most idyllic of Cotswold settings, sheep joining in the chorus of approval for the speeches.
Attending such a magnificent celebration, you gained the impression that this Emma (whom we have known since the day she was born) had also become a woman of some substance. By which I am far from implying anything about her physique: no bride could have looked more gracefully slender. But Emma is now a formidable lady, having set up an operation in Dubai, and now married someone, himself clearly a man of substance. This we could tell, not just from the predominance of jeunesse dorée, nor from the words spoken by the Best Man (one of three), but also from the superlative food and wines on offer.
One of the readings in the marriage service was from Captain Corelli's Mandolin: "Love is... both an art [which you have to work at] and a fortunate accident".
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