In the recent equal marriage debates when the Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby announced that his and (some of) the Church of England’s opposition was ‘not, at heart, a faith issue; it is about the general social good’, I did wonder whether the House of Lords’ library carried a copy of Maureen Waller’s book. Perhaps if it, and the House of Commons library, had members would have been a little less sure about pontificating about the longevity of the institution and its unchanging nature since their female colleagues, constituents (and wives) had only just about achieved equal heterosexual marriage in the very late twentieth century. And although Waller does focus on devoted love and love enduring beyond death – the happiness and support Margaret Cavendish found with the older Duke of Newcastle, awful Pepys is quite upset by his wife Elizabeth’s death and Lady Susan Lennox finding a happy marriage after being dumped by George III - it is the horrors of marriage that remain haunting.

There are the terribly sad criminal conversation cases when servants turned on adulterous couples, inspected bed linen, peered through keyholes and took bribes. There is the truly barbaric case of Con Phillips, duped and raped and harassed by bigamy trials and legal battles throughout her life. She survived but only by her wits. The Countess of Strathmore’s case is justly famous but needs repeating again and again because of its awfulness and what was done to her reputation by a wicked man. Waller shines a light on these familiar stories by extracts from contemporary sources such as William Gouge’s Of Domesticall Duties, Hannah Woolley The Gentlewoman’s Companion, Lord Halifax’s Advice to a Daughter and The Hardships of the English Laws in Relation to Wives.

Why women risked the dangers of marriage when they faced such legal and economic dangers if it all turned out wrong is not entirely a mystery. A charming, dashing suitor could (and still does) sway the most astute of minds and the prospect of singledom was terrible for those who longed for something else. As Harriet Smith said to Emma Woodhouse ‘you will be an old maid! -- and that's so dreadful!’ ‘Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid,’ as Emma replied.