Page 38 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

At dinner I found myself seated beside Mr Byerly. I do not think this was accidental, for Mrs Thurston looked rather pleased as she directed me to my place, and Mr Byerly gallantly held my chair.

For the first part of the meal, I enjoyed his company very much. He asked what I had been reading besides Shakespeare, and confessed that he had never finished Evelina, which I had chosen from Pemberley’s library and found particularly entertaining. I told him that the poor heroine’s difficulties in company had made me feel considerably better about my own, and that he ought to persevere.

“Then I shall try again,” he promised. “Though I cannot imagine you giving anybody cause to remark upon your manners.”

“That is because you have not known me very long,” I assured him, which made him laugh.

He also remembered Kitty’s drawing, and asked whether she had decided how to arrange the sleeves. I was able to tell him of Mr Ackermann’s interest, though I took care to explain that nothing had yet been accepted for publication.

“That is very promising nonetheless,” he said. “Your friend has a good eye. I am sure she will succeed.”

I was pleased that he should think so.

As the meal continued, however, I became rather less comfortable. Mr Byerly declined a sauce which I had just accepted, explaining that it was too rich for him, and then spoke of how difficult it was to dine in company without eating more than one ought.

“One is tempted at every turn,” he said. “I find it best to decide beforehand what I shall refuse.”

I looked down at my plate. I had made no such decisions.

“Surely a little cannot do much harm?” I ventured. “It is delicious.”

“A little of everything soon amounts to a great deal. I have discovered that to my cost.”

He smiled as he said it, and I knew he was speaking of himself. Nevertheless, I found that I was no longer enjoying the sauce quite as much as before.

When the sweet dishes came, he refused those too.

“I have a particular weakness for anything sweet,” he explained. “If I permit myself to begin, I shall want more.”

I had intended to accept some pudding, but when it was offered, I heard myself decline.

Mr Byerly did not appear to notice. He was answering a question from Matthew about his house in London, and presently turned back to include me in the conversation. I tried to attend, but I was annoyed with myself. I had wanted the pudding. There had been no reason whatever for me not to have it.

Later, when the gentlemen joined us for tea, he came to sit near me again. He listened while Georgiana played, and asked her afterwards about the music, asking insightful questions with a genuine interest which clearly pleased her. When our carriage was announced, he said he hoped it would not be long before he saw us again.

Elizabeth asked, on the journey home, whether we had enjoyed ourselves. Everybody seemed to have done so, and I said that it had been a very pleasant evening.

Most of it had been.

I was hungry again before we reached Pemberley, though I could hardly complain of having been insufficiently fed at a table where there had been enough food for twice our number. When my maid came to help me undress, I asked whether there might perhaps be any jam tarts or cake in the kitchens.

She did not seem to consider this an unreasonable request, and brought me a Bath bun. I am eating it as I write, and taking great care not to drop crumbs between the pages. It is deliciously sweet.

7 July

Mary’s trousseau is beginning to occupy almost as much of our conversation as Kitty’s drawings. Indeed, the two subjects have become so entangled that I sometimes lose track of whether a particular gown is intended for Mary or for the consideration of Mr Ackermann.

Mr Bennet has written to Elizabeth, agreeing that she should undertake the management of the allowance set aside for Mary’s clothes. Mrs Bennet has written also, enclosing a list of things she considers indispensable. Mary read it with an expression of increasing dismay.

“I shall never wear all these.”

“You may find yourself going out rather more than you expect,” Lizzy suggested.

“Not every evening, surely. And I shall still require something to wear in the mornings.”

“There are morning gowns upon the list,” Kitty pointed out.

“Yes, with so much trimming that I should spend half my time catching it upon things. How shall I work in the stillroom wearing gowns such as these?”