Page 18 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

“Well, Anne my girl, Darce said I should not recognise you and I barely do! Seems all the health I have lost has gone straight to you, and I do not begrudge you one jot of it!”

I went to him in tears and put my arms around him. He passed his stick to Darcy, then drew me close with his left arm. I felt him kiss my hair.

Everyone began speaking at once, and Richard soon had to greet the others. Darcy and Mary urged him towards the ground-floor room prepared for him. Georgiana took my arm and led me out.

“Where are we going?” I asked, perplexed.

“Anywhere that those two cats will not see you crying,” Georgie muttered in my ear, and I realised to my surprise that the tears were still wet on my cheeks.

“I’m just so happy to see him again,” I attempted to excuse myself.

“You’re not the only one, dearest,” she told me, “but if Miss Bingley sees your face just now, she will know your heart in an instant, and I do not think you want that.”

I was silenced. I certainly did not.

24 May

I did not see Richard again yesterday. He was wearied after the journey and took dinner in his room.

“Do you think I might visit with our cousin this morning?” I asked Darcy hesitantly at breakfast. “I am sure he must be bored, cooped up as he is. Perhaps I might read to him or something? Or we could play cards.”

“I am sure he would appreciate that very much,” Darcy said with an approving nod. “The doctor from Meryton is coming to see him this morning and perhaps after that you might go in to see him?”

I agreed, and then suffered impatiently as I waited for the doctor to arrive and then depart again. At length, Mary came and said that the Colonel would very much like to see me, if I could spare the time.

If I could spare the time! I had been waiting all morning.

He was sitting by the window, his foot propped up, though he made to rise when I entered. The door had been left open for propriety. I could hardly suppose Richard thought it necessary for my sake.

“Oh please do not get up!” I rushed forward, placed a hand on his arm to urge him to be seated. “Do not dare stand on ceremony with me, Richard Fitzwilliam!”

He smiled up at me, sinking back into the chair. “As you wish, dear Annie.”

I blushed at the pet name; he had not called me Annie since I was about twelve. I sat opposite him. “How do you feel, really? Is there much pain?”

He shook his head, saw my raised eyebrow, and grimaced. “Not so much, not really. It’s the strangest thing, the worst pains are in the fingers that are no longer there.”

Reflexively I looked down to his bandaged hand, resting on his thigh. I knew he had lost the last two fingers on his right hand, and from the little Mary had let slip last night, that he was fortunate not to have lost the entire hand.

“I am so sorry,” I said inadequately.

“I count myself lucky,” Richard said. “So many men did not come home at all, or came home with far more lost than a pair of fingers.” He looked past me towards the window, and I put my hand over his undamaged left.

“I am so glad to have you back again, Richard. We all are.”

He smiled at me, his eyes intent on my face. “You look so well, Annie, I can hardly believe it is you. Darcy told me of the transformation, but it is astonishing, truly.”

He turned his left hand beneath mine and held it for a moment.

A sound from the bedroom made him let go. Sanderson came through the door.

“Mr Sanderson!” I rose. He stopped and looked at me without speaking.

“It is Anne de Bourgh,” Richard said. “You remember Rosings.”

Sanderson’s face changed. “Miss de Bourgh! Forgive me. I did not know you.”

“You need not apologise. I am glad to see you again.”