Mr Darcy's Legacy, page 2
“Yes, dear papa, do go to your room and please rest; we can leave tomorrow as late as it is convenient for you.”
Mr Bennet managed a pale smile and said:
“Mrs Bennet will be waiting for me in front of the house, on the pathway.”
A small joke, just to reassure his daughter but everybody laughed in a sort of general relief imagining Mrs Bennet with a stern face waiting for her husband to come with the essential news from London. Her daughter’s betrothed had not run away; the wedding would still take place.
Darcy whispered to Parker, his butler, “Send Mr Bennet the syllabub, in his room.”
“I was about to do just that, sir,” the butler bowed.
Darcy was, as usual, attentive to the others’ needs, but that special night he was so grateful that he wanted to show, on and on, his appreciation to all the people who helped recover him.
Then he looked at the young Acton who wanted so much to help and please. He was the one who remained in London while Elizabeth, Georgiana, Mr Bennet and Bingley went after him.
Mr Acton noticed Darcy looking at him and said with a shy smile, “I will retire, but first I would like to inform you what happened in London after the party left. Maybe Mr Darcy does not know, but Mr Bennet and Charles left me here with the mission of receiving any information that would eventually arrive. I was instructed to open and read all messages and redirect them to anyone that I considered appropriate. I shall return shortly, to show you all the messages that were received.”
Mr Acton left the dining room in haste, apparently proud of his mission and impatient to share his knowledge with the party.
As they all moved to the parlour Darcy thought that it was a good thing to have Mr Action, with his youth and enthusiasm joining them, to remember that they were indeed celebrating; in spite of the tiredness, for it was a victory.
After Darcy’s disappearance, in the despair of being completely oblivious to his whereabouts, Elizabeth, Mr Bennet, Georgiana, Bingley, with the close assistance of Mr Action, decided to organise a large search party to cover the neighbourhoods, parks, and streets. They made inquiries to all Darcy’s friends, at the Gentlemen’s Club, and in any places where he could have been seen. They thought of all possibilities, even the darkest ones that included Darcy being attacked, robbed, or even murdered.
And then some new information made all of them rush to the country hoping to find Darcy and bring him home.
At first, Mr Acton had been upset that he was excluded from the search party outside London. But soon enough, as the messages kept arriving at Darcy’s Town House, Mr Action understood the importance of his assignment and the trust that was granted to him.
Chapter 2
Mr Acton joined the others in the parlour, with his arms filled with papers. Most of the messages and letters were of little importance; but Darcy invited the young man to present them, nevertheless.
Mr Action laid two piles of papers on the table, carefully organised by some criteria of his own. Darcy and Elizabeth glanced and smiled at each other, both pleasantly surprised by Mr Acton’s diligence.
“In the first bundle you will find,” Mr Acton said, naturally addressing Darcy, “all the simple messages we received from people participating to the search. Some of them are just referring to a place, a street where they pretended to have seen Mr Darcy. As promised, till your arrival I cheeked every place, trying to gather information. At this moment, they are no longer important, as fortunately here you are, Mr Darcy, and we praise God for this happy ending.”
It was a good speech, they all agreed, and their appreciation for the young gentleman was growing with every word.
“In this second pile, you have all the messages received from friends and acquaintances, worried about your disappearance…”
Mr Acton stopped at Darcy’s apparent disturbance.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked fearfully, staring at Darcy.
“No, not at all; you did an excellent job, please continue.”
Darcy’s expression was neither content nor relaxed, as Georgiana immediately observed. Elizabeth was still learning to read his expressions, but she could not miss that he was preoccupied and even slightly displeased.
As Mr Acton hesitated to continue, Darcy showed a smile to encourage the young man.
“I only followed the instruction I received,” Mr Action repeated, “I took only the liberty to divide the messages in a certain order I considered important!”
“And you did a great job, Mr Acton,” Elizabeth said. “Please, continue!”
“Here is a list with everyone who wrote, as I supposed you will want to answer each of them.”
He handed Darcy a piece of paper, written in his elaborate writing, which held a large number of illustrious names from London society.
Darcy looked at the list and his face, Elizabeth saw with growing astonishment, coloured as if under tremendous tension.
“Important names!” Darcy mused with the same strange voice, almost angered.
“Yes, sir! And the most prestigious, without any doubt, is His Grace, the Duke of Blandford!”
Georgiana and even Bingley, who seemed asleep just a moment ago, both at the same time exclaimed in astonishment:
“The Duke of Blandford?”
The only one in the room not impressed was Elizabeth. Her rare sojourns in London had not been enough to familiarize her with the Ton. Her relatives, the Gardiners, socialized with people of a certain wealth but rarely with nobility. In fact, Elizabeth, never really cared about nobility and titles. Not even wealth was a preoccupation for her; as many times she had seen herself as the wife of a well-educated, witty and honourable clergyman, a solicitor, or a little landowner with no pretentions or infatuations.
Preoccupied only with the wedding day, she did not give particular thoughts to what would happen after… when she would become the mistress at Pemberley. Not more than the notion that Darcy would be her husband and they would share their lives together – with everything that meant. It was the very first time that she fully realised her new life would be filled with unknown duties and obligations, making her wonder if she was capable of assuming such a role.
Her face was an open book to Darcy as though she had spoken. His intentions, before the unfortunate adventure, were to let Elizabeth get accustomed with her duties little by little. He wanted her to see the benefits of her new life and only after a reasonable time to explain her their role in London society. But the previous week had destroyed or distorted all his plans, and now he – and mostly Elizabeth – had to face the problem of London’s Ton, whose members were far from being compassionate or benevolent. In small villages like Meryton or Hunsford, or even in Derbyshire, gossip was a daily preoccupation with no dramatic effects; unfortunately, in London, a mere rumour could destroy reputations and careers. William FitzRoy, the 6th Duke of Blandford was one of the most preeminent figures of England. One word from him and someone could be banished forever from their world.
Darcy was more and more convinced that the search party through London, at his Club and among the Ton had been a mistake. He was displeased, alarmed, and worried about their future. But could he blame his friends, Georgiana or Elizabeth for making every effort to find him? Still, his distress and concern were difficult to conceal in front of them. The Duke of Blandford was the last one he wanted to be up to date with his adventures, and yet he was!
The others on the list were all unimportant when compared to the Duke.
“And this is not all!” Mr Acton said, more and more unsure on his actions and his voice, “As Charles asked me in a message I received before your arrival, I went to your Club just to announce to them you are in perfect health and returning to London in two days.”
At these last words, Darcy stood up, filled his glass with brandy, and took a gulp wondering what more there could be. Only then he remembered Bingley and silently asked him if he wanted a drink too. He had forgotten his manners amid attention to that feeling that misfortune had happened, and he had no idea how to act in the future or how to make do reparations.
Darcy remembered discussing the necessity to spread the news about his return; not to give any details, just that he was in good health and ready to meet friends soon after his arrival in London. He had also decided that the best way of spreading the news would be at the Club. But those memories were vague and distant; he had not been fully recovered, and now all the decisions that were taken in that condition seemed wrong.
“Go on,” Darcy said, willing to hear once and for all, the disasters caused by his absence.
“So, I went to the Club and I presented myself, as your secretary…” Mr Acton watched Darcy’s face with growing apprehension, but all he could see was worry.
“I hope you approve this, sir.”
Darcy nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“All I did was to prepare a message and deliver it at your Club, as your secretary,” Mr Action repeated. “But in the hall, the doorman took me directly to the Club’s superintendent, Mr Crosby. I thought he would take my message and let me go, but to my astonishment, he invited me into a private parlour. I confess passing through the Club, I became nervous; I was prepared to deliver a message, and now I was invited to a member of the Club.”
“And?” Darcy said with a rather harsh tone.
“It was His Grace, the Duke of Blandford!”
“The Duke?” Darcy said, puzzled and distressed. “What is the meaning of all this? What did you tell him?”
Mr Acton remembered with a shiver the moment when the superintendent told him the Duke had given explicit instruction whoever might come in regarding Mr Darcy be guided to his parlour. And “Sir,” the superintendent said, “what a chance for you, as His Grace just arrived a few minutes ago!”
Mr Acton had come only to deliver the message; he was not prepared for more and a meeting with the Duke of Blandford was an honour he was not sure he could face. But, at the same time, the young man had a most useful quality: he embraced all the new circumstances that life offered, greeting them with courage and cleverness when needed.
“I put my apparel in order and entered the parlour just as the superintendent whispered at my ear about the honour to be received by His Grace. I must confess I had never imagined that such an illustrious person could be so benevolent. He wanted to know everything about what happened to Mr Darcy. But I had little to say; I mostly described what had been done in London regarding the search party. So, His Grace wrote a letter for you and confined it to me.”
Darcy looked again at the letter pile; it was the first, exactly how Mr Acton ordered them, in the importance of rank.
All their fatigue vanished in front of such an occurrence; Elizabeth regretted her father was not present, Mr Acton was happy for his essential role in those circumstances, as for Georgiana and Bingley they were listening with a curiosity that surpassed all previous events. Only Darcy was incapable of sharing their interest, as he was still more distraught than enthusiastic. He read the letter in a clear voice, for everybody was eager to know its contents. It was the only letter that Mr Acton did not open, and his curiosity was equal to the others.
Mr Darcy,
It pleases me to find out from your secretary, Mr Acton, that you are in good health and out of danger. Please oblige me by joining me on Wednesday, at the Club, to discuss important matters. I will be present at early hours, till 1 o’clock, please attend in that period.
FitzRoy William, Duke of Blandford
It was a short message that gave no sign on the subject the Duke wished to discuss, but the politeness showed it was a request and not a demand.
“Wednesday is tomorrow,” Darcy said with all eyes fixed on him.
It was, undoubtfully, an important message, and Elizabeth received it with even more nervousness than the others. She was equally curious, interested and distressed, as FitzRoy William, the 6th Duke of Blandford had just become a real person and not merely an almost imaginary character living near royalty.
Her future life with Darcy was so unlike anything she had experienced at Longbourn in so many ways. Being the mistress of Pemberley meant assuming so many duties, some of them substantially different from her mother’s daily work but being Darcy’s wife meant so much more. Tomorrow Darcy would meet a Duke, and most probably, soon she would have to face that new world, too.
Standing still and silent, with the Duke’s letter in his hand, Darcy was staring at her, and Elizabeth felt he knew every thought that passed in her mind. She would need him to be near her, to support her, even teach her. But she was ready to be his wife. She smiled at him, and in that long and distressing evening, her smile was the support he needed. Darcy longed for her; he was anxious to remain alone with her. With a simple gesture, he ended the evening and invited Georgiana and his guests to retire for sleep.
“We will continue our conversation tomorrow at breakfast. I want to leave at 10 o’clock for the Club, so please oblige me and come to an early breakfast at 9.”
Chapter 3
Darcy took the candle from the maid’s hand, wanting to guide Elizabeth through the vast house that would be hers in a short time. She was staying in Mrs Darcy’s apartment – while he did not occupy the master’s suite.
He had kept his childhood apartment, close to Georgiana’s, reluctant to move to his father’s rooms. James Darcy was dead for almost 5 years, but Darcy could still feel his presence and the pain of losing him and was hesitant to take his place.
However, that situation would have to change soon - after his wedding.
For the time being, Elizabeth was slowly becoming accustomed to the mistress’s chambers – her chambers to be – while Darcy was pleased with that arrangement, dearly appreciating his sister for letting Elizabeth have that part of the first floor. During his childhood, while they stayed in London, Darcy used to spend most of the mornings in his mother’s welcoming and warm parlour. He remembered with perfect clearness the beautiful image of his mother. Warm, gentle, carrying, she was utterly different from her sister Lady Catherine. He knew she would love Elizabeth and would approve of her. Very much unlike Lady Catherine.
He left Elizabeth in front of her apartment and briefly kissed her hand, his eyes gazing into hers. He intended to return just after the maid helped her prepare for the night. They had, indeed, important things to discuss but deep in his heart, there was another truth: he just wanted to be with her. His misadventures had created so many problems, and he wanted to reassure his future wife that their life would be the image of connubial felicity. He was sure she would commit, with grace and intelligence, to any new duty that eventually might stand in front of her. He had long ceased to doubt that she would rise to any expectation of her new position.
After half an hour, which seemed an eternity, Darcy, dressed in his robe, dismissed Parker and knocked at her door. Just hearing her voice aroused a storm of feeling within him, unlike anything he had known before Elizabeth.
He found her seated at his mother’s Sheraton mahogany secretaire, writing a letter. Darcy lay on the long sofa in front of the bureau, as he did so many times in the past when he was a child playing while his mother was reading or writing.
Elizabeth finished her letter and looked up, meeting his eyes. He was smiling.
“You were quite displeased only minutes ago! And distressed,” she said
“You calm me down. It is the effect you have on me! But I am still apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive about what, my dear?” She briefly caressed his hand and he took her fingers to his lips while he continued.
“Elizabeth, I know it is unfair to you all, as you made such an effort to find me. However, – a search party through London, an announcement at my Club were probably not the best of choices.”
“You think we did wrong?” Elizabeth asked, taking his worry upon herself. He took both her hands in his.
“Come, sit by me!” he said tenderly, with a gesture towards the long sofa.
But Elizabeth could not move, only abandoning her hands in his. She wanted to be near him, but she feared the closeness, remembering countless moments they spent alone in Hertfordshire after they became engaged. More often than she wished to admit, they indulged themselves in many liberties that a lady should not accept, but she did allow and even encouraged. One day in particular, when she happened to be alone with Darcy in the carriage on a long ride in the country, and his caresses put her cheeks and her entire being on fire. She was blushing only remembering his touches so daring that she could not imagine they existed before meeting him.
“I cannot come, Darcy. I do not know what happened to me in the morning, maybe you still had the delirium of your illness on your lips,” she smiled shyly, blushing.
“Come, Elizabeth, come sit near me, it is all I am asking you!”
“Promise?”
Darcy gently laughed, fixing his gaze deep into her eyes:
“And what do I have to promise, my beloved?”
His tone was insinuating but mild, a new Darcy she had not known before. The candles depicted unexpected shadows on his face, making her remember all the ways she had ever seen him, from the proud Darcy who barely noticed her to the man from the carriage, who almost took all her secrets.
Elizabeth coloured again, not only from her fear or shame or shyness. Deep inside her there was a strange, new stirring, never felt before. It also happened in the carriage yet from those hours she hardly remembered anything because he was so close to her. But now Darcy was at some distance, only looking at her and again all her inner body was aching in a delicious wave. She had discussed with Jane in the past, how it was possible for Lydia to accept Mr Wickham before marriage. Near Darcy, she finally understood that there were no before the wedding and after the wedding feelings and dispositions, but a unique sentiment that was called love and desire. It was the same love and desire before and after... That the wedding day and the ceremonies surrounding it, were only the demands of society and did not cause a wife to feel different from the young girl she was.
