Page 31 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

“Mama,” Elizabeth said sharply, and I felt a gentle hand on my arm.

“I am going to the retiring room for a moment, Anne, would you accompany me?” Jane whispered, and I was relieved to have an excuse to flee the room for a little while.

More gentlemen asked to be introduced when the dancing resumed, and I accepted several invitations. I danced well enough, but I no longer took the same pleasure in it. I was glad when at last the carriages were called.

Mrs Bennet’s words followed me home. In London there would be still more strangers who knew of Rosings before they knew me, and Richard would be at Matlock instead of beside me every day.

16 June

I hope my writing is legible. My diary is on my knees in the carriage, Kitty’s head rests on my shoulder, and a basket of sleeping kittens stands at our feet. Before we left Hertfordshire, Kitty, Georgiana and I were each allowed one of the little females. Kitty has Darling; Georgiana has named her black-and-white kitten Ophelia. Mine is the pale tabby with a white patch on her ear. Her colouring put me in mind of moonlight, so I have called her Luna.

The kittens have amused us on the journey north. I held Luna when I said good night to Richard yesterday, knowing we would part this morning. My uncle and Richard went on to Matlock while our carriage turned towards Pemberley. I have already wondered several times what Richard is doing. At Netherfield I could look for him in the garden, or hear his voice as I passed the library. Now I shall have to wait for his visits, and share him with the whole household when he comes.

Doctor Spears found on inspecting his house near Leicester that it was not ready to receive our large party. We spent two nights at the Crown Hotel instead, and visited his handsome house some five miles outside the town between them. Mary looked into each room with the knowledge that she would soon live there; Christopher watched her rather than the house. I wished Richard might one day look at me in the same way.

17 June

Is it only a month since we left Pemberley? Then I had only just begun to walk without fear of being sent back to bed. Now I have danced an evening away and returned with a kitten in my arms. Yet it is my thoughts of the future which have changed most.

I love Richard Fitzwilliam.

I can hardly call that a discovery, after all I have written here. But watching Mary look about her future home has made me think of more than the pleasure of his visits. I want to sit opposite Richard at breakfast and hear what he intends to do that day. I want to choose a house with him, and plant my garden, knowing that he will be there to see it grow. When I think of being married, those are the things I picture, and it is always Richard who is with me.

Perhaps I am foolish to hope. Yet he seemed so pleased when I sought him out at the Assembly, and he said he would rather take supper with me than with anyone else. He sees that I am stronger now; he has told me so often enough. Might he begin to see me differently in other ways, too? I must not build too much upon a few affectionate words, but I cannot quite make myself dismiss them. London is still months away, and we have the summer before us. I hope he comes to Pemberley soon.

19 June

There was a small disturbance in the morning-room today, entirely the fault of Darcy’s dog, though I believe Darcy would tell the story rather differently.

We had brought the kittens downstairs with us, and for some little while they were perfectly content to play about our feet. Luna had discovered the fringe of Georgiana’s shawl, Ophelia was attempting to climb into her lap, and Darling had fallen asleep on Kitty’s abandoned embroidery. I thought them all behaving very prettily.

Rufus, however, seemed to think they ought to remain together. Whenever one ventured away from the others, he followed and put his nose in her path, obliging her to turn back. This worked very well with Luna, who is easily distracted, but Darling took exception to being directed. She planted her tiny feet, puffed herself up until she was almost twice her usual size, and struck him smartly across the nose.

The poor dog gave a most indignant yelp and retreated behind Darcy’s chair.

“Oh, you wicked girl!” Kitty exclaimed, scooping Darling into her lap, though she was laughing so hard that I cannot think the kitten felt herself much reproved.

Darcy put down his newspaper and examined Rufus’s nose.

“She has not hurt him,” he pronounced.

“Only his feelings,” Lizzy said, reaching down to stroke the silky ears. “Come here, poor fellow. You must learn to leave young ladies alone when they ask you.”

“I do not think she asked,” Darcy observed.

By then Georgiana and I were laughing too. Rufus submitted to being petted by Elizabeth, though he kept a very watchful eye upon Kitty’s lap. Darling, quite unrepentant, began to wash her paws.

Mary missed all of this, having gone to consult Mrs Reynolds about the stillroom at her future home. She returned with her grandmother’s journal under one arm and a list of things she wished to ask Christopher in her next letter. Apparently there are shelves which must be moved, and a table standing in entirely the wrong place.

“I thought it a very pleasant room,” I ventured.

“It is, but the table ought to be nearer the window. There is no sense in not utilising the natural light.”

I had noticed the view from the window, and wondered whether roses might grow against the wall outside. Mary had considered where she would put her table. I suppose that is the difference between visiting a house and considering the practicalities of living there.

Lizzy asked to see Mary’s list, and they were soon deep in discussion. Kitty offered to draw a plan, provided Mary could remember where the doors and windows were. I found myself sent to fetch paper from the writing-desk, and was very glad to be of use, though I could contribute little to the discussion of shelves. Lady Catherine always had opinions on shelves; Elizabeth made a lightly teasing remark about it, saying Charlotte Collins had been obliged to install them in a closet in the parsonage. I managed a small smile at the memory.

“Perhaps that is why I care so little about them,” I said.