Page 68 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

The footsteps stopped, and I stumbled up the stairs alone, desperate to get to my room and shut everyone out.

I have behaved very badly. Georgiana did nothing to deserve my anger. She wished only to comfort me, and I repaid her kindness with harsh words.

I know that I ought to apologise, but I cannot face her today.

I cannot face any of them.

They all know, I think. They have watched me seek Richard’s company, and brighten whenever he enters a room.

And now they know that he does not want me.

I have never told him that I love him. He has never been obliged to refuse me. I ought to be grateful that I have been spared at least that humiliation.

But he has told me to marry somebody else, and I do not know how to make that hurt any less.

Nobody came to ask me to explain myself.

When it was time for dinner, a maid brought up a tray. There was some chicken with gravy, soft bread still warm beneath its napkin with a pat of butter, and two little jam tarts.

I had thought I should not wish to eat. The sight of the tarts made me cry again.

There was no note.

The maid set everything where I could reach it, drew the chair nearer, and left me.

I knew whose thoughtfulness had sent it. Elizabeth had understood that I could not come down, and had not required me to make an excuse.

I am grateful to her.

I am ashamed that she should have had to understand.

I ate some of the chicken and both the tarts. Then I sat beside the window until there was no longer enough light to see the garden properly.

Luna has been with me for most of the evening. She does not ask questions, or look as though she knows the answers already. She does not even object when I cry into her fur.

I have been very glad of her company.

27 August

I have spent a whole day being miserable, and have decided that I must not spend another in the same fashion.

Yesterday I remained upstairs all day. I tried to read, but found myself turning back to discover what had happened upon a page I had only just finished. I took out my sewing and put it away again without adding a stitch.

I cried, which made my head ache, and then felt sorry for myself because my head ached.

By the evening I was exceedingly tired of my own company. I was not fit to be seen because of my red eyes, but again a tray of dinner was sent up without me having to ask. This time, I sent a maid with a note to thank Elizabeth.

It is not Richard’s fault that he does not love me as I wish him to. He has never promised that he would. He has been kind and affectionate, and I have made a great many hopes out of things which he may have said without giving them another thought.

I cannot remain in my room for ever because those hopes were foolish.

This morning I ate the breakfast my maid brought for me, asked her to help me dress before I could find a reason not to, and went to look for Georgiana.

She was in the music-room, putting some sheets in order.

When she saw me, she laid them down at once.

“Anne, good morning!”