Page 111 of The Secret Diary of Anne de Bourgh

“She thinks you have brought it for her,” I said.

“Then she will be disappointed,” Jane replied, lifting her out. “I am afraid we must all become accustomed to there being somebody smaller whose claims come first.”

Elizabeth tires quickly now, and we left her to rest and repaired to the morning-room, where a roaring fire was keeping the December chill at bay.

There is a great deal to occupy everybody. Kitty has more drawings to finish, though she was readily persuaded to put them aside when Jane mentioned having seen Count Valdieri yesterday. He had particularly asked whether her sister would be at a particular Christmas party, to be held tomorrow evening at the home of a mutual acquaintance. Kitty blushed when Jane told her about it, and said in a shy, rather un-Kitty-like way that she would be very happy to see him there, if Jane would chaperone her. Jane, of course, said that she fully intended to.

Georgiana wished to know whether Lord Henry might also be there. She asked very casually, while straightening the music upon the pianoforte, and did not quite succeed in concealing her pleasure when Jane said that she believed he would.

Richard came in while we were still talking. He had been attending to business with his father and told Darcy that the remaining arrangements concerning his provision were now settled. There are letters to write about Bramley, and people whose names he must learn, but he appeared very pleased at the prospect.

He sat beside me and asked if there were many parties I planned to attend over the Christmas period.

“None,” I said. “I should not like to be away if Elizabeth needs assistance.”

“Nor should I.”

“I know there will be people who can be far more useful than I ever could. But I should like to help.”

“She will be glad to have you close.”

He said it so simply that I felt reassured.

Later, when Jane had gone home, I went upstairs to check on Elizabeth and found her soundly asleep. Feeling a little at a loose end, I returned to the morning-room for my book. Richard was still there.

“I thought you had gone out,” I said.

“I had been considering it, but the weather is grim, and I do not fancy slipping on wet cobbles with my cane. Will you sit with me instead?”

I did, of course.

We read for a little while, though I do not think either of us attended particularly well. Richard asked about my book, and we began to talk. When a servant came to tend the fire, I discovered that the light had faded and I had not turned a page for some considerable time.

He has been seeking my company more often lately. I do not know whether he is simply happier now that his future is settled, and wishes to share his pleasure with somebody.

I am trying very hard not to suppose anything else.

I wish he would not look so pleased when I come into a room. It makes being sensible exceedingly difficult.

Christmas Day, 25 December

I am engaged to Richard.

I have written that sentence and stopped to look at it several times. I cannot quite believe that I am permitted to write it, though he has assured me more than once today that I have understood him correctly.

Elizabeth has a son, born in the early hours of this morning. They are both well, and Darcy has smiled so much today that I scarcely recognise him.

I ought to begin with yesterday, or I shall never make a proper account of any of it.

I had spent much of the morning quite busy: I have been doing a good deal of the household management while Elizabeth is indisposed. I concluded a discussion with the housekeeper about the menu for Christmas Day, and went into the library to put away a book I had finished. Richard followed me.

He asked whether I might spare him a little time, which frankly was quite strange, for he never usually asked. We merely began to converse whenever we found ourselves together. The formality in his manner made me nervous, and I said hesitantly that I was sure I could give him a few minutes. He drew a chair nearer the fire for me and sat down opposite.

“I have been thinking about Bramley,” he began. He told me that he wished to go there after the worst of the winter, and hoped I might be persuaded to accompany him.

“I should be very pleased to visit,” I said.

“I was hoping for something rather more than a visit.”