Mr Darcy's Legacy, page 11
Darcy was stunned and his knees weakened while his hands trembled from torment. The last two days he had imagined all sorts of stories about his mother and the Duke, but he never had the audacity to go so far.
“I do not understand, sir!” he said in a low voice, not daring to allow his mind to accept the obvious.
“Nor do I!” the Duke said. “I thought my father had destroyed the page after ripping it off.”
And once again the library was the past, nothing more than a scene where Darcy could see the events dancing out of the powerful words the Duke was uttering. The Duke unveiled his soul yet Darcy was not prepared to think of his mother as the Duke’s wife Anne, so he closed his eyes and imagined he was witnessing a story about Will and Anne, two strangers.
***
The plan grew in FitzRoy’s mind as he left his house thirty years ago, after the discussion with his father.
The two nights he spent in the hunting cottage made him understand he had to find a way to be with Anne. Not a night stolen in someone else’s house but a life together. In the past, he had never thought of marriage. He regarded his father’s plans of marrying him with an heiress as a kind of illusion his father was living in. But since the ball, his life completely changed. Anne was his woman, he sensed this truth with his heart and body. There was no other way to have her but to get married. He wanted his father to be on his side, but the 5th Duke of Blandford made clear his position. His son had to marry the German heiress and not the Earl’s daughter who could not bring the honour his father dreamt of.
He had to wed hastily and secretly. But most of all he needed all his doings to be legitimate, not leaving any possibility of an annulment. He knew from the past, not from his direct experience but still first-hand information, that his father was a dreadful enemy. He had all the protection one could get from the king and an army of servants ready to please their master.
The License for Marriage was the first important step to be taken. But first, he needed Lord Fitzwilliam’s accord to marry Anne as she was only nineteen. The same day he headed again for St. Albans; strangely, he relied on something his father said during their conversation. Lord Fitzwilliam might be interested in marrying one of his daughters with the son of a Duke, as powerful as his father was, and Fitz was only hoping that he would not ask too many questions. He prepared himself with some answers, some lies, some truth, a combination that would eventually convince Anne’s father.
He found the family at dinner, and he was at once placed near Lord Fitzwilliam. He was not hungry, although he did not eat much at breakfast while in his father’s company. Back then, in the morning, he had been nervous, but still he had hope; in the evening he was full of anger, but determined to marry his love. Anne was looking at him with her sweet smile, as they did not hide their feelings anymore. His arrival, at that hour, meant only one thing - he had come after her. She laughed and spoke happily and seeing her so delighted Fitz forgot about his father. The image that tortured him all the way from London had dissipated in Anne’s joyful disposition. He looked at her neck; he knew that on the delicate gold chain hung his ring, hidden from everybody. As the dinner was ending, he whispered a few words to Lord Fitzwilliam. He asked for permission to talk to Anne for ten minutes and then he asked for a private discussion, only the two of them.
Lord Fitzwilliam stood up and ordered everybody to retire to the music room.
“Not you, Anne!” he said, the Marquess will lead you to the library and when you finish your discussion, I will be waiting in the parlour for him, only for him!” emphasized her father.
But Anne was not listening anymore. She was running to the library, and the second the door was shut, she threw herself into his arms. They did not think clearly when they held each other. It was a tremendous power that swept them away from the entire world.
He would not confess the truth to the young man seated in front of him, but each time they were together, they made love. Even that night he sneaked into her bedroom and made incredible hasty love under the threat of being caught or prolonged tender love in her girlish bed.
That night was the last time they made love.
“Why did you come?” she asked still in his arms.
“Will you marry me?” he said and looked at her as she smiled and showed him the ring hidden at her bosom.
“I have already said yes… did you forget so soon?” She was teasing him and he had not the heart to tell her the horrible truth, but he had to.
“My father refused to consent to our marriage!” he said and watched as the happiness drained from her face.
Suddenly she was feverish, her face on fire; she tried to comfort him, but it was he the desperate one.
“Let us run away!” Anne said. It was not an unreasonable decision taken under the momentary tension; her voice was determined, even cold but steady, unlike her body that was shivering.
“Now, immediately, I do not care about marriage, I want to be with you!” She was almost crying and for a moment Fitz was scared someone might hear them.
Thirty years after that night, he still regretted his decision; he should have taken her in his carriage and run far away with her and never come back. But he wanted a normal life for her, to appear on his arm in society, not to expose her to a scandal that would eventually ruin her reputation. She seemed reckless, yet she had a clear and determined mind while he had been nothing else but an arrogant young man. He thought he could solve all their problems.
He told her his plan in very few words.
“Do you think your father would give his consent so we could have the license to marry?”
It was a difficult question. Anne did not know her father well enough to answer such a question and in the torrent of problems around them they forgot the only plan that could have saved them, the single clear and straightforward plan: to run away that very night.
“My father will probably allow us to marry, but you must not tell him the whole truth. After the marriage, we will tell him more, but for now, just tell him your father was against it because we are too young…”
It was precisely what he wanted to tell to the Earl.
***
As he expected, Anne’s father realised in less than an instant all the benefits such an alliance could bring.
“I will come with you tomorrow to London to help you get the license. Perhaps my presence could guarantee the rightness of your plea.”
It was more than Fitz could hope for, and he began to see the future in brighter colours, a deep unforgivable mistake. In desperate cases, only vigilance could bring success.
He obtained the license with less difficulty than he expected, and again he felt that fate was on their side; it was a judgment that proved to be misleading and wrong.
The Earl had several estates near a parish he knew well as he had grown up in the region. The clergyman was an old man who had baptized him and his brothers and was trustworthy. In fact, this was not a favour they were asking for but a legitimate marriage. The presence of the bride’s parents could have reinforced the legitimacy if any doubts subsisted.
He went home that night as he did not want his father to believe he had run away. Fitz descended for dinner, but very few words were spoken. It was a horrible evening but not that different from any other meal they shared together. He was happy he would leave after his marriage and hoped he would never come back to live in that house. He had a lovely estate in north Wales where he intended to live with Anne, but first, he arranged to depart to Ghent. A ship would be waiting for them to cross the sea.
It was the first night he had slept in a long time, between the passion and worries there had been little time left for rest. Yet he woke up still tired and with a terrible headache due to the difficulty of being apart from Anne, even for a day. But that day was meant to be the last without her, so he thought!
As planned, they met in front of the church at 9 o’clock. It was a cloudy day, but as they entered the church, a ray of sunshine passed through the clouds and lit up the steps of the church, just when Anne arrived. It was the image that would haunt his life: Anne, with a little bouquet of flowers climbing up the few steps with a smile that competed with the sun. He wondered if his heart which was so full of happiness could blow up and return to earth like an ethereal rain to envelop his love.
It was too painful to remember the marriage, and during all the years that passed, he never did because the moment she said yes he thought they were together for life.
***
“At the end, Mr Somerville, the minister, invited us to the Parsonage…” the Duke’s voice was only a whisper, and Darcy moved his chair to be closer just to hear all his words. He repeated:
“In thirty years I have not thought, not for a single time, of that day!”
He stopped and silently asked Darcy to give him the paper from the register. He looked at the writing intensely while he continued to speak:
“We agreed to go, and that was another mistake. At that moment, my plans with the boat and Ghent were secret, not even Anne knew. I did not conceal it from her deliberately, but we did not have time to discuss it in the madness of those last days. If I had taken Anne away that very moment, nobody would have found us, my father could have ripped off all the pages in the world, for from Ghent we would have gone further away!”
The Duke had tears in his eyes, but he did not try to hide them. He was too tired.
“And?” Darcy inquired like a child eager to continue the enchanting tale, and the gentleman smiled between tears. “How did your father find you in that parish?” Darcy insisted.
The Duke looked again at the document and read:
“Watford Parish” I had decided to forget this name, a long time ago. What a way to remember! We were at the table where the clergyman’s daughter had prepared a light meal and a glass of wine, a nice offer for which we were grateful. We were happy, but the Earl had a drink too many and was telling us stories of his youth. Then suddenly there was a disturbing movement in the courtyard. Mr Somerville went to see what was happening, but when he returned he was so troubled that he could hardly speak.
“It is for you! − he said and he looked at me with much sadness; he was not afraid but sad, that I remember so well! The next moment my father was in the room. And not alone; he had six or more people waiting outside. He was very polite, only I could see the anger under his court manners. He asked for the register and as the minister was not moving he ordered his daughter to bring the register and in front of us one of the men ripped the page off from the register. And then my father, as polite as ever, copied on the next page the two marriages that were before ours. All traces removed! Then he grabbed me against my will, with the help of four men against whom I could not fight by myself. And we left forever.”
“And Anne?” almost shouted Darcy, forgetting that Anne from the past was his mother.
“The last thing, that was seared in my mind and in my soul, was her cry for help, her begging them not to hurt me and her face covered in tears. I never found the details of the events that followed, but I assume my father and your grandfather arranged the marriage with a Mr Darcy, a man whom I knew to be respectable and worthy. For months I wallowed in such despair that life lost all its meaning to me.”
Suddenly the Duke stopped as if struck by lightning.
“My God!” he said.
“What is it, sir?” Darcy had the impression that the day they were reliving would never end, bringing more and more events from a past that seemed more powerful than the present.
“This page!” The Duke said, “Do you not see it?”
Darcy saw, clearer than a bright day. He was confused yet somehow happy for the Duke, but then again he plunged into confusion as he did better understand how that page would affect his own life. And Georgiana’s.
The maids came to light the candles and they kept quiet until they were alone again, but they both knew.
“This page, my boy…” and he handed Darcy the page, “… means I am still married to Anne!”
A burst of impromptu, disturbing laughter broke the silence of the library, betraying the relief for which the Duke had longed for so many years.
“My God,” he said, patting Darcy on his arm. “Anne is my wife! All the trouble my father took to separate us, and he failed. Beyond life or death, she is my wife.”
Only then he realised that in front of him was Anne’s child with the man she was no longer married to…
“Do not worry!” the Duke said. “If Anne had decided to change our lives after she received the page, she would have done what was necessary, but she just wanted me to be happy that in front of God she is still my wife. How could a thirty years love not die, still hurt, and make me happy at the same time?”
In his lap, the unopened letter was still waiting to reveal its contents so well hidden for a lifetime.
“Let us read the letter together, Darcy. I completely trust in you and you deserve a proper closing to this tale as much as I do.”
“One more thing, sir, before that. Do you know how your father found you the day you married my mother? Who betrayed you?”
“I can only guess; I have no proof. I believe my father suspected I was preparing my marriage, so probably he went to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office. It was not very difficult for him to find out I had a license to marry.”
“Yes,” Darcy said, “but how did he know where the marriage would take place?”
The Duke was silent for a moment. It was one of the questions of his life.
“I have no evidence but most likely he went to St. Albans and someone told him where to find us. Anne’s brother and her sister knew, I suppose. In fact, it was not a villainous act; it could have looked like a natural demand from a father who wanted to attend his son’s wedding. But still, I could never stand Catherine and your uncle, because I decided one of them told my father about us.”
Darcy replied nothing, as his own suspicions were not far from the Duke’s.
Chapter 17
“Maybe this letter will tell us more!” the Duke said. “I must confess that I have been waiting for this letter all my life! I will read it aloud, but I will keep to myself the passages which concern only Anne and me.”
Darcy understood and approved; he had no desire to intrude even more in so intimate and long-lasting a relationship. He considered that as a son, he already knew too much.
The Duke opened the letter with slow movements, but he began reading so suddenly that Darcy startled, pulled out of his thoughts by the Duke’s voice.
My love
I know there are still so many things unfinished between us. But I decided to let all be forever forgotten, except one.
If you read this letter, it means Will came to you…
The Duke stopped from reading and looked at him:
“Will? Who is Will?”
“It is I,” Darcy responded with his mother’s sweet voice resonating in his head. “It was only she who called me so.”
The Duke was looking at him as if trying to go deep into his mind and soul.
“Stand up, please!” the Duke suddenly demanded.
Puzzled, Darcy thought he was furious, and wondered what happened in such a short time. But the Duke’s countenance showed no anger; it wore deep tiredness and a storm of other feelings that Darcy could not read. So he stood up as he was told to, not understanding the sense of the request.
In just a few instants the Duke stood up too and he shortly said:
“Come with me, please!”
He followed the Duke to the far end of the hall that was brightly lit; Darcy could only imagine they were heading to the ballroom. Indeed at the end of the main hall, there were the famous greenish stairs that marked Anne and the Duke’s first encounter. The view from upstairs was breath-taking; to his surprise an army of servants was moving around.
The Duke invited him to descend:
“They are preparing the room for Saturday night, for the ball in your honour!” he stated and continued with a peal of happy laughter. “Call it fate!”
Darcy was still oblivious to the meaning of all this. He assumed the Duke just wanted to show the preparations for the ball but why so suddenly, and why in the middle of the letter? They descended the stairs in total silence, and the servants stopped working at their sudden appearance. The Duke made a grand gesture, still on the stairs and said:
“Leave us alone! You will continue later!”
In an instant everybody was gone and the fabulous room remained empty. The room opened with a glass wall to the park while on the other walls there were enormous Venetian mirrors making the large room look even more grandiose. Darcy descended the stair with a strong sentiment that his mother’s shadow was surrounding them. Still, he did not understand why the Duke brought him there. Maybe it was just to remember her. They stopped in front of a mirror next to each other, and then the truth burst out from him, whole and plain as if he had always known it and now it erupted to the world.
“You are my son, Will!” the Duke said, his voice trembling, a smile softening his face, his eyes tearful, and his gaze filled with affection. It was the most powerful smile Darcy ever saw on a man’s face.
It was obvious - they were alike: same stature, some posture, same features.
As suddenly as he decided to bring Darcy into the ballroom, the Duke took him in his arms. Darcy needed a moment to return the embrace, while the Duke whispered:
“What would my life have been with her! And with you…”
“Sir…” Darcy attempted to speak, but the Duke leaned against him as if he had lost all his power and needed support. He was relying on his son’s strength.
After some moments, he continued:
“Go home, my son, we will discuss this more in the morning. I need to be alone.”
As did Darcy – so he slowly broke the embrace and stepped away from the Duke, from the past and from the present.
Chapter 18
