Page 66 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

I should still have to marry Mr Byerly to obtain this particular future.

But for the first time, Richard had given me a reason to consider that doing so might give me something I wanted very much.

He seemed encouraged by my silence.

“There is much in his favour,” he said. “He is young, too, and sufficiently near your own age that you might reasonably expect to enjoy many of the same things.”

“I do not think age signifies so very much,” I said.

“It can signify a good deal.”

“Not a few years,” I insisted.

Richard rested his hand upon the arm of his chair. “A few years may alter what a man wishes to do with his days.”

“People of the same age do not always wish to do the same things,” I pointed out.

“That is certainly true.” He smiled again. “But you will not persuade me that there is no advantage in a young husband who can walk and dance with you without having to consider when he must next sit down.”

“I should not mind sitting down.” The words came out before I could prevent them.

Richard looked at me.

For a moment I thought I had said too much. Then his expression softened.

“I know you would be considerate, Annie. You always have been.”

He had not understood. Or perhaps he had, and this was the kindest answer he could give. I could not bear to discover which.

“I shall think about what you have said,” I told him.

“That is all I ask.”

He seemed pleased. I think he believed we had settled something which had been troubling me, for he began to speak more easily and asked whether I would walk with him upon the terrace before luncheon.

I said that I had promised to look at some work with Kitty.

I had made no such promise, though Kitty welcomed my company when I went to her. She gave me a length of ribbon to hold while she measured it, and did not seem to notice that I was rather quiet.

I have been trying to remember precisely what Richard said, lest I should have misunderstood him.

I do not think I have. He was very clear.

He wishes me to marry Mr Byerly.

25 August

Richard has gone.

He is to return for the festivities in September. He told us so at breakfast, and again when Georgiana asked whether we might depend upon him. There is nothing uncertain or alarming about his departure. He is going to my uncle at Matlock, with Sanderson to attend him, and expects to see us all again in a few weeks. My uncle wants his help in the harvest season, and Richard is gone to give it, as his responsibility.

I know every one of these things.

They have not helped very much.

I had intended to be perfectly cheerful this morning. I had even considered what I might say when he took leave of me, so that I should not stand before him without a word while everybody watched.

There was no need for him to know how foolish I had been.