Page 115 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

Georgiana was, as it happened. She embraced us both, and Kitty followed her example. I have received so many affectionate wishes today that I scarcely know how to be grateful enough for them.

We saw Elizabeth again this afternoon. She was tired, but very happy, and the baby was asleep beside her.

They have decided to call him Noel.

Darcy allowed me to hold him, though he remained very near and looked almost relieved when I returned his son to him. Noel scarcely opened his eyes throughout.

I told Elizabeth that I had never imagined a Christmas like this one.

“Nor had I,” she said, looking at Darcy and the baby.

It is late now, and I ought to go to sleep. Tomorrow there will be letters to write, and plans to make, and a great many things to think about.

Tonight I keep remembering Richard asking me to be his wife, and Elizabeth asking me to stay with her.

There is nowhere I would rather have been.

This has been the best Christmas I could ever have imagined.

18 February 1815

One year ago today, Mr Darcy married Elizabeth Bennet, and I was miserable and afraid of what my life would become. I could not imagine being happy.

I certainly could not have imagined everything which has transpired in the last year, culminating in my marriage to Richard three days ago in the magnificent church of St George’s on Hanover Square, with what felt like half Society looking on. Kitty and Georgiana stood up with me, Darcy walked me down the aisle, and Richard looked so handsome as the vicar finally pronounced us man and wife that I thought my heart might burst from my chest with happiness.

Today, we have arrived at Bramley House to make it our marital home, and it is the most beautiful house I have ever seen.

Richard says I must wait until spring before forming a proper opinion. The trees are bare, the garden is asleep, and he assures me that the approach is considerably prettier when the fields are not full of mud.

I suspect seeing Bramley House in its full glory will only increase my conviction.

We travelled by easy stages, though I grew less patient with each one. Luna objected to her basket at the beginning of every morning and was generally asleep before I had finished apologising to her. She has already examined our sitting-room and found a chair to her liking. I shall have to remember to warn guests never to sit in it, lest their garments become decorated with shed silvery hairs.

The household welcomed us very kindly. I was introduced to so many people that I am afraid I shall need to ask some of their names again, but Richard remained beside me, and nobody appeared to expect me to know everything at once.

Afterwards he took me to the little room overlooking the garden.

The window-seat is quite as comfortable as he remembered. There is room for two, provided neither is determined to occupy a great deal of it.

We sat there until the light began to fail. He pointed out the pear tree, still flourishing, the old brick walls and the bare branches of the roses. I tried to imagine how they would look in summer.

“Will you be happy here, Anne?” Richard asked.

I told him that I intended to be exceedingly happy, and that I hoped he would not object if I occasionally disagreed with him about the arrangement of the furniture.

He said that he would endeavour to bear it.

I have brought my books, and there are letters from Elizabeth and Mary to answer when we have settled. Darcy has written to Pemberley, and the pot with my rose will be conveyed to me along with the other things I left there. I have a place in mind for it already, though I shall discuss with the gardeners whether the soil will be suitable in that spot to plant it properly.

Soon we shall have visitors, and I shall be able to welcome them to a home of my own. In three months or so, we must go to Netherfield, as Jane expects a new little Bingley, and has already said I was of such great help at Elizabeth’s lying-in that she thinks it quite essential I attend hers as well. I was utterly flattered to be asked, and immediately promised that I should be there for her.

For the present, I am very content that there are only the two of us. Perhaps any house I shared with Richard would seem beautiful to me, but I am glad that this one is ours. We sat down to dinner in the charming dining-room, which has a table that will seat ten or twelve very nicely but no more, and enjoyed a delicious dinner. I think the cook is trying to impress us. I savoured every bite.

After dinner, we retired to the drawing-room and sat by the fire. I daresay eventually we will spend our evenings in the library, but as yet there are no shelves in it, only stacked crates of books. Richard, unable to help himself, brought one in and unpacked it onto a table, looking for some specific book he actually must have tonight. I watched his dear face in the firelight and had to pinch myself; sometimes I am quite certain this is all just a beautiful dream.

Richard has just come to sit beside me and ask what I am writing. I told him that I was attempting to describe how happy I am.

“May I read it?” he asked.

I have promised to tell him instead. It may take some time, but fortunately we have the whole of our lives. I need not be economical with my words of adoration for my dearest husband.

The End