Mr Darcy's Legacy, page 14
Darcy looked at her in total astonishment; the way she said ‘Lady Edwina’ was so insinuating that he wondered if his future wife knew more about the Duke’s relationship to Edwina than he did.
“And in the end, we will all be one big family and we will spend as much time as possible together. And I hope your children will call me, grandfather!”
“Absolutely accepted too,” Elizabeth said with an affectionate smile looking from Darcy to the Duke.
“One more thing!” the Duke said and Darcy wondered if the truly difficult part might come only at the end.
“With or without that page, you are my first son and you have the right to a title! The first Duke of Blandford was the illegitimate son of James I. In the present situation, even if you are considered my illegitimate son – I hope Anne will forgive me for saying this – you are entitled to a title. His Majesty will understand the situation and I am sure that in a decent period you will receive a title. Marquess and Marchioness of Pemberley is what I have in mind…”
Epilogue
The night of the Season’s Ball at the Duke of Blandford’s residence finally arrived. It was said that to prove one meant something in the London Ton, one had to receive an invitation to the ball.
The last to arrive were the Duke and his guests of honour, Darcy, Elizabeth and Georgiana. They descended the marble stairs, Elizabeth on the Duke’s arm, Darcy with Georgiana while all eyes were directed to them. Even from a distance, the resemblance was staggering, and an involuntary murmur crossed the crowd. The Duke tilted his head as a silent but decided acceptance of the fact they were revealing. Looking stunning in her new ball gown, Elizabeth coloured a little, just enough to improve her complexion. Darcy wondered how many of the guests were aware of Elizabeth’s identify as his betrothed, as she had not been officially introduced to them.
But it was soon proved that he needed not to be concerned for his future wife but rather for his sister Georgiana, whose appearance was generally admired. Luis, the Marquess of Brimpsfield, was waiting downstairs for his father to arrive with the guests. He was blond and tall, with beautiful blue eyes that immediately fell upon Georgiana. The young Duke appeared suddenly oblivious to everything and everyone else and minutes after Georgiana put her delicate ball shoe on the ground in front of him, they both fell in love. It was like fate was playing a delicious game which neither of them could oppose.
And when, fourteen months later, the Duke was presented his first grandchild, he was not from his daughter Harriet or from Darcy and Elizabeth but from the Marquess and Marchioness of Brimpsfield.
He was in his parlour with all his family while Lady Edwina held the infant in her arms, proud as only a grandmother could be, of such a splendid new-born. His name was James, after his maternal grandfather and James I, his ancestor.
Georgiana was shining near her blond husband, smiling as the Duke took his grandson in his arms and embraced him.
The Duke was happy for the present blessedness, but deep in his soul he celebrated the arrival of the beloved boy, who was his grandchild and Anne’s.
End
Read by the same author
A Struggle for Love
Fragment:
They silently walked away from Longbourn; Darcy with his horse's reins in his hand but very close to Elizabeth. He wanted to take her in his arms and feel her slender yet firm body next to his. An impossible adventure for at any minute a member of the Bennet or a servant or a friend paying a visit could appear. From time to time he took her hand, but she playfully rejected his attention, scolding him for being too audacious toward his betrothed. That is why he enjoyed staying at his dear Pemberley, where a man could walk closely near his betrothed with nobody around to disturb their stroll. He longed to be with her that very second at Pemberley, but then he realised that once at Pemberley they would be man and wife, with no need to walk out to share a kiss or a hug. Actually, he dared to imagine her at Pemberley far away from the meadows and deep away in their bedroom.
“I like your petticoat,” he said in an intentionally intimate tone as he knew she was still reticent about a certain kind of intimate speaking.
She thought he wanted to punish her for not going to London but in fact, Darcy liked it when she coloured, and she did, unmistakably, any time he came close and whispered words she could not have known about before.
“You must write to me every morning and every night!” she ordered still blushing. “I will not be pleased with less from you, sir!”
“Yes, my lady, but you could have news from me directly if you come to London, it is not too late; we can go back and take the carriage. Please, Elizabeth!” he made one last try. “Please come with me to London.”
He was serious while she smiled and kissed him on the cheek, gently pushing him toward the way to the capital.
At least her kiss was no longer a naïve girl's kiss. In the last two weeks, their intimacy had continuously grown making him anticipate their wedding night with joy. His Elizabeth was not a false shy young lady, her body being a promise she began to know how to use, even if she was still very far away from the wife he meant to have in a very short time.
‘Let her have her wedding day,’ – he thought – ‘I will have my wedding night, no preparation needed.’
Florence Gold, Mr Darcy's Legacy
