Sunday 30th March 1808

Dear Diary,
I have been thwarted throughout the day in my endeavours to rendezvous with Emmanuel and thus have had to gaze upon him from afar.
The congregation at Chapel had swelled this morning in the knowledge that a French Countess would be in attendance. Emmanuel was seated a few pews behind me and I could feel his gaze upon the back of my head. The Pastor was effusive in his sermon and appeared to deliver it solely to the Countess who beamed throughout. (I know not how she manages it.) Her warbling soprano voice soared above everyone else's during the hymns but it could have been that everyone else was pausing to listen.
We were almost late for lunch due to the large number of people wishing to pay their respects after the service. I was just about to prise her hand from the Pastor's who had clung to it for far longer than necessary, when he finally released it and bowed low. As we finally left she turned to face the waving congregation and trilled;
"Ah weesh 'appenis for you all!"
She loved all the attention and it only served to widen her smile.
Emmanuel was occupied in the afternoon, packing and preparing for their departure tomorrow.
This evening Mrs Crutchlow, in honour of our guests, prepared a typical French meal. It was quite splendid. I enjoyed the fish soup but the chicken was covered with a French cheese sauce. I ate what I could scrape clear of it. The dessert was delicious. Later, Mrs Crutchlow stopped me in the hallway and asked "Well, Mr Austen, I wonder what you thought of the pancakes?"
"Crepes" I corrected, but before I could tell her what I thought she stormed off in a huff. Women! I just don't understand them.