Page 39 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

Kitty examined the list more closely and conceded the point.

I reminded Mary that the gown I had promised her was quite separate from this allowance, as was Elizabeth’s gift. She thanked me very warmly, but then looked almost apologetic.

“I should like something very pretty for that,” she confessed. “I do not mean that I wish everything to be plain.”

“Of course you should have something pretty!” I exclaimed. “You must choose precisely what you would like.”

“I only think a trousseau should be more useful. I should be happier by far with only a few fine gowns and a sufficient number of useful ones.”

“Then that is what we shall arrange,” Elizabeth said, drawing the list towards her.

Mary looked relieved. It seemed a very simple matter once Lizzy had said it, though I could well imagine how much argument the same decision would have occasioned at Longbourn.

Kitty offered to show Mary the new designs she was preparing, and presently the table was covered with drawings and little pieces of fabric. Georgiana had a particular shade of blue to recommend, while I could contribute only the assurance that Mary need not make herself uncomfortable in anything merely because somebody else thought it fashionable.

I spoke with considerable feeling upon that subject.

Christopher is expected on Monday. He has written to say that he can remain for a little more than a week, and Elizabeth has invited him to stay here. He will visit the Thurstons too, of course, but Mary will have the pleasure of seeing him every day.

She tried to read this part of his letter aloud with the same composure she had employed when reporting upon the work at his house. She did not quite succeed.

“How agreeable,” Kitty said, with a gravity which immediately made me suspicious. “You will be able to settle the question of the stillroom shelves at last.”

Mary folded her letter.

“There are other things we wish to discuss.”

“I am sure there are.” Kitty’s eyes were dancing with mischief.

Elizabeth sent Kitty to fetch a box of ribbons before she could say anything further, though Mary was smiling by then.

We have put Mrs Bennet’s list aside for the present. Mary is making one of her own.

12 July

Christopher arrived yesterday afternoon, and Mary has been looking so pleased ever since that I find myself smiling whenever I look at her.

Their first greeting was rather formal. He bowed over her hand, asked after her health, and she assured him that she was very well. Had I not known them both, I might have supposed they were no more than acquaintances, except that neither seemed inclined to look away from the other.

Elizabeth came to their assistance by asking Christopher about his journey, and presently everybody was talking quite comfortably. Mary found a place beside him and remained there until it was time for him to be shown to his room.

This morning they were looking over her grandmother’s journal together. Christopher had brought a book which he thought might help identify one of the ingredients that had puzzled them, and their heads were bent so close over the pages that I wondered whether either could see properly.

Mary put out her hand for the journal just as he reached for it. Their fingers touched, and both stopped.

It was only a moment, but I could not help noticing it. Darcy would simply have taken Elizabeth’s hand, I think, and Bingley would undoubtedly have kissed Jane’s. Christopher looked at Mary, and Mary looked down, smiling, before he moved the book nearer to her.

They are not yet quite easy with one another in the manner of the newlyweds I have lately observed. But I think they are learning.

Later, when Christopher had gone out with Darcy, I found Mary in her room, putting away some of the things we purchased for her trousseau a few days ago on a visit to Derby. I offered to help, though there was very little to be done, and she soon sat down beside me.

“It is pleasant to have him here,” I remarked.

“Yes.” She smoothed a fold of muslin over her knee. “Very pleasant.”

I had a question which I wanted exceedingly to ask, but for some time I could not find the courage. I should never have dared ask Elizabeth. She would have been kind, undoubtedly, but I should have felt very foolish before somebody who was already married and knew all about such matters. I hemmed and hawed a little, and Mary looked up at last.

“Was there something else, Anne?”