Page 88 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

I could not quite understand his manner. He had seemed pleased enough to arrange the visit, but he did not speak with the satisfaction I had expected now that Mr Byerly had enjoyed it so much.

Perhaps the journey had tired him. I asked whether his leg was troubling him, and he said that sitting still for a little while would answer very well.

I was glad to be able to offer him that, though it did not explain why he became more cheerful when Georgiana asked him to help her choose some music for this evening.

Mr Byerly has sent word that he hopes to call tomorrow. I suppose he will wish to tell me about the visit himself.

I had expected to hear that he admired Rosings. Most people do.

I had not expected to feel uneasy about it.

30 October

Mr Byerly called this afternoon, and I have heard a great deal more about Rosings.

He was very complimentary. He admired the house, the grounds, and several things which I had scarcely considered worth noticing while I lived there. He had remembered a carved mantelpiece of which I have always been rather fond, and I was pleased when he described it.

I asked whether Richard had shown him the little room beyond the library.

“He did indeed. A very pleasant room, though I thought it a pity that so little use appeared to be made of it.”

“I used to sit there sometimes. It catches the morning sun.”

He said that he could well understand my preference, and for a little while I enjoyed talking of the house with him.

Tea had been brought in. Elizabeth was occupied with Kitty at the other end of the table, examining something upon one of her drawings, and I offered Mr Byerly some cake.

He declined it.

“I try not to indulge in such things between meals,” he said. “One scarcely considers how much butter and sugar they contain.”

I had already taken a piece for myself. I looked down at it, suddenly much less inclined to eat it, and then felt annoyed that he should have made me feel so. I had not asked him to account for his refusal. A simple no would have answered very well.

He resumed speaking of Rosings. The drawing-rooms had particularly pleased him, and he thought it unfortunate that so fine a house should remain with only a few servants in it. He began describing how agreeable it would be to fill it with company.

“I should not wish for a great many people staying,” I said.

“Not at first, perhaps. But I am sure you would soon become accustomed to it. You must not suppose that you would find yourself unequal to receiving your friends.”

I had not supposed anything of the kind. I merely did not wish to receive all of them at once.

There was a pause while he took his tea, and I found myself saying something I had not intended to tell him.

“I have not many happy memories of Rosings.”

I spoke rather quietly. It was not an easy thing to say.

“Then you must make some happier ones,” he answered, smiling at me. “Pleasant company would do a great deal. You would soon find the place quite altered.”

Before I could answer, he began to speak of the drawing-rooms again.

I was very much annoyed.

He had not asked what I meant. I do not know whether I could have told him much, but I should have liked him to listen before deciding how easily the matter might be remedied.

I could scarcely attend to what he said afterwards. He remained perfectly agreeable, and when he left, thanked me for permitting him to visit such a remarkable place.

I said that I was glad he had enjoyed it.