Disclaimer: I do not have any rights to nor make any money from the characters in this story.
Anne de Bourgh has become a great friend of mine in the months since Elizabeth's departure. I am sure she prefers my company as well, as she scarcely ever misses our daily chat in her carriage, and she entreats me to visit Rosings. Her mother tries to keep her downtrodden with baseless fears about her health, and I believe she sees me as a welcome escape.
Over the past few months, I have noticed my feelings for Anne de Bourgh increasing. If I sit next to her when I visit, I am very aware of her physical presence. It makes me nervous, and I want to hold her hand or touch her cheek. If I sit across from her, my gaze automatically drifts to her lovely face, and I almost blush when she looks back at me, especially if she smiles. If she, or especially if Lady Catherine, knew of these thoughts, I would be ostracized from their house and publicly condemned.
I have no hope of Anne returning my feelings, as anyone would be horrified if confided with them. I shall merely be required to hide them as well as I am able. Hopefully, over time with no chance of their return, they shall fade and Anne's presence shall become more bearable. That is all I can hope for.
Lady Catherine has taken ill. She has been gradually getting worse over several weeks, but her indomitable nature prevented her from acknowledging her weakness and calling an apothecary until now. The apothecary says there is little he can do now, the illness must take its course, and she shall either recover, or we will soon be planning a funeral.
Anne has desired my presence even more than usual during this stressful time, and I have be grateful to comply. Anne has confided to me that she has often wished for her mother's death, and now feels guilty over these thoughts. I try to comfort her as best I am able, while I secretly agree with her.
My sweet Anne is now donning her new mourning clothes. Her mother died late last night, after battling almost a month after confined to her bed. Mr. Collins seems the only one to truly mourn her loss, but he is even now turning his attention and false flattery to the daughter. Anne seems more cheerful than I have ever seen her, as though a lifelong burden was lifted from her shoulders with Lady Catherine's departure. She continues to be respectful of her mother's death, but I can tell that she secretly rejoices, and I am happy that she is happy.