Chapter 15
L ady Edwina observed Elizabeth with discreet curiosity, but what she sought to discern was far more profound than the beauty of a woman who would undoubtedly look splendid on the arm of her godson. She wished to know whether Elizabeth loved him. Though at first she had been surprised to learn that she was already staying in his house, she now rejoiced in the opportunity to observe her. And since her arrival, after the day spent together, Elizabeth had grown ever more to her liking.
She was intelligent, and this was well for Fitzwilliam, who needed a wife capable of withstanding him, of opposing him with a spirit akin to his own—a shared perspective on life, complete honesty, yet also a gist for the passion that would lend their existence together its flavour.
Elizabeth seated herself at the table, and from the way she looked at Darcy as he entered, Edwina knew that she was not yet his woman. And she rejoiced for them both. Before them, life unfolded—passionate, authentic, miraculous, playful and earnest at the same time. A combination which, she hoped, would grant them happiness for a lifetime.
Edwina decided to temper the tension of that first day, so she smiled and said, “Let us sit, my dear, and have a nice cup of tea.”
Elizabeth looked at her with gratitude. It was precisely what she needed: a simple day like any other—without letters, passion, or stories from the past.
They were expecting Darcy—Elizabeth with just a hint of curiosity but also worry; the previous day’s revelations were not an easy way to approach a long-gone mother he had adored and idealised.
But Darcy seemed unchanged. He greeted Georgiana and Lady Edwina, kissing their hands, and took his place at the table. Only then did he look at Elizabeth, his eyes telling her how wonderful she was and how much he had missed. Her heart began to race, her senses awakening at him just looking at him from a distance. She could not believe the effect he had on her. Looking around, she blushed, suspecting Lady Edwina had already guessed the truth: how troubled she was by her future husband.
Radiant with happiness after reading her mother’s letters, Georgiana looked at them without seeing their faces, longing to speak about her mother and that incredible confession. She hoped that Elizabeth would join her after breakfast. Yet, she hesitated—Elizabeth was, after all, young as she was and just as unversed in the realm of love and passion. She needed a woman who could unveil her experience in matters of life and love.
Fortunately, Lady Edwina, perceptive as ever, read her thoughts with ease and, with a reassuring smile, promised to spend the morning by her side.
What began as an ordinary breakfast soon became a vivid hour of stories and mirth. Jane carried the conversation with her warmth, her exuberance a gift to all who listened. She spoke with unbridled passion of the places she had discovered, the new acquaintances she had made, and the wealth of emotions that London had stirred within her. so caught up was she, in her delight, that she nearly forgot her coat when Bingley arrived to escort her to the Gardiners.
The two were a vision of happiness, their love so radiant that it cast a spell upon all who beheld them. Conversing with easy amusement, they took their leave at last to join a gathering of friends. Elizabeth watched them go with quiet satisfaction, confident now that London had welcomed her dearest sister with open arms.
Once the lively party had departed, Darcy turned to the remaining ladies and, with an inviting gesture, led them into the parlour.
“Just for a short while,” he said, speaking in a neutral tone that gave no sign what he wanted to tell them. They suspected the subject was Lady Anne as they were far from concluding her story.
However, as Georgiana feared, Darcy did not want to resume the letter reading; he just made a brief announcement.
“I have decided to give His Grace the letters my mother left for him. I dedicated a lot of thought to the matter, I assure you, and made this decision on my own.” Lady Edwina, filled with admiration for Darcy’s courage, nodded in agreement. His decision was a testament to his love for his mother that nothing could alter or even shade. He was a mature man, much older than Anne had been when she fell in love, and he could regard her story with understanding and acceptance.
Nobody protested or said anything, so he continued. “I sent him a letter asking for a meeting tomorrow. I shall just give him the letters—no need for many words or explanation. It is a gesture that I must make for my mother, despite what the consequences might be. I confess that I do not care anymore about London and its gossip. Elizabeth and I shall leave for Pemberley soon after the wedding, and we intend to stay there for a while as a proper beginning to our marriage. This morning, Elizabeth and I will go for a walk in Hyde Park. I want people to see us together and become accustomed to our approaching marriage.”
Lady Edwina agreed; she loved and admired Lady Anne’s son, who had become such a fine man. For some years, she had been afraid he was too proud, selfish, and haughty, but during the last days, he proved to be a responsible gentleman and, most precious of all, a lad in love.
“Just one word before we leave,” Lady Edwina said. “When I fully recovered from my illness, Anne was about to be married to your father.”
The party looked at her in general bewilderment, but it was Darcy who spoke. “They were married that summer?”
“Yes,” Lady Edwina said. “From the moment she married George Darcy, Anne never spoke again about Fitzroy till the last days of her life when she gave me some instructions regarding her secret being conveyed to you.”
“Perhaps the duke left her voluntarily,” Georgiana said sadly.
“Absolutely not!” Lady Edwina was firm. “Fitzroy was obliged to marry Hilda of Hanover, and Lady Anne Fitzwilliam was obliged to marry George Darcy, your father. I am sorry, children, but this is the only truth I am absolutely sure about.”
∞∞∞
Elizabeth and Darcy strolled for half an hour in Hyde Park. The day was cloudy, but as it had snowed for a while that morning, some of the trees still had a white coating, making a spectacular scene. Elizabeth wore a fur-lined pelisse and a muff in white fur that she borrowed that morning from Jane. Even though she was lovely, Darcy decided it was the first and last time his wife would need to borrow clothing from someone else. Just before arriving at Hyde Park, they stopped in front of a store, and an elegant woman came to their carriage, agreeing with Darcy to visit them that afternoon.
The day’s events had taken Elizabeth by surprise. She had envisioned them spending their time together in quiet intimacy—perhaps even stealing moments of tenderness, nestled in each other’s arms. Instead, they went for a walk and prepared to receive visits.
“It is not, strictly speaking, a visit, my love,” Darcy reassured her. “Mrs Camberley is a renowned dressmaker, and she will see to all the garments you require for the present. In time, when we are next in London, I have no doubt you will call upon her yourself.”
There was little to be said in reply. Elizabeth was not as pleased as Darcy had anticipated, and there could be but one reason for it.
“Listen to me for once and obey…woman,” he said teasingly before leaving the carriage. However, he knew how delicate the subject was.
He had asked Mr Bennet not to give him any dowry. He knew the Bennets’ financial situation and decided to help them as much as possible. Still, he did not want Elizabeth or anyone else to know. Thanks to his mother, any problems would be solved forever once they were married.
“You seem to forget that you are rich and do not need your father or me to indulge you.”
“I have not forgotten. But I am still uncomfortable receiving so much money for my expenses only. It is generous but also overwhelming. It seems impossible.”
“Yet it is true, my love. Marry me today, and tomorrow, you will be a rich woman on your own. Or marry me in two weeks, and I shall pay for all your gowns and anything else you want to buy!”
He was laughing, and she suddenly forgot all her worries and shared his delight. They wandered through the park, arm in arm, their joy so radiant that it seemed to spill over to all who crossed their path. Darcy’s friends or acquaintances paused to greet them, obviously interested in making her acquaintance. It was completely different from the night at the opera, and Darcy silently thanked the duke. To their delight, every encounter was marked by kindness—polite words and warm smiles, invitations to dinners and soirées, or simple yet heartfelt congratulations on their engagement.
“It is a triumph!” Darcy murmured in her ear and smiled, looking at him.
“Do not look at me like that, madam!” he said quite hoarsely.
“Or?” she wanted to know.
“Or I will kiss you in the middle of the crowd.” And she looked at him again with even more love, lust and yearning, and they both began to laugh.
∞∞∞
Darcy was content with the results of their stroll. He was now sure there were no visible traces of the gossip remaining, and he did not care how this end was achieved.
They intended to have a light meal and perhaps rest for an hour or two, but the moment they entered the hall, Parker arrived in a hurry, handing Darcy a letter with great solemnity. Elizabeth was about to walk up the stairs when Darcy silently took her hand, stopping her. He led her to the library. It was an impressive room with a high ceiling full of marvellous paintings and intricate wood bas-relief carvings. The books were arranged on three walls behind crystal glass doors on shelves as high as the room. She had entered that room several times to choose a book, each time intimidated by the mahogany shelves where the volumes stood in an order she hesitated to disturb. She made a promise to herself that, when she became the mistress of the house, the library would have all the glass windows widely opened; anybody would be allowed to take books and even leave them in disorder.
But for the moment, the austerity of the room was in perfect accord with her future husband’s face. Without words, he gave her the letter he had just read, his intense gaze on her face, asking for advice. Elizabeth lived a brief moment of deep satisfaction; the man before her had abandoned every imperfection she had seen in him when they first met. The letter was from the Duke of Blandford, inviting Darcy to call on him as soon as he received the message. The letter was written without ceremony. It sounded familiar and began with Dear Darcy, the invitation so informal that only a member of the family would dare address it in that manner.
“He is a duke,” Elizabeth said as Darcy waited for her opinion. “I do not know—perhaps a duke can write such a letter to anybody he chooses. It is my first letter from a duke!” She was joking, and he smiled, but Darcy was aware that people of rank were formal and utterly dependent on society’s protocol.
“What did you write to him?”
Darcy smiled again, but this time, his smile had another meaning. He remembered her coming as he wrote and the kiss that followed…that was so much more than a kiss…
“Sir,” she said with a sweet reproach, “you are remembering things of no importance to the present moment!”
“You are wrong, my lady. The events where you are involved…in a certain manner are the only important circumstances of my life—before dukes, princes, or kings!”
He moved closer, begging for a kiss, the first real kiss since yesterday. Elizabeth leaned towards him in total abandon, forgetting about letters and dukes. Darcy was right: only their love was important.
He was the first to return to the present, looking at her and saying, “What shall I do, my love?”
“This morning, you said you had already made a decision.”
“This morning, I was sure it was the right decision to visit His Grace and give him the letters my mother never sent him.”
“And now? What has changed?”
Darcy hesitated a moment. “He is a very influential man, a powerful one. I do not know his true intentions or the reason for his sudden interest in me when we barely know each other.”
They were both startled on hearing a discreet cough; Lady Edwina was standing in the library’s open door, and she likely had seen them kissing.
“I apologise for disturbing you.”
“There is no reason to apologise—please come in,” Darcy invited her as Elizabeth blushed.
“I shall stay only a moment.” She hesitated momentarily, admiring Elizabeth and her godson; they made a splendid pair, and she intended to defend their love against any malevolence.
“You are beautiful together,” she said, and they looked at each other, smiling and in total agreement.
“Well…Let us get back to stringent matters. A week ago, I found out with horror that Lady Catherine had empoisoned London society with her hate towards your future bride. The duke is the most influential man with whom I am well acquainted in London, so I went to ask him to help Anne’s son.”
But Lady Edwina chose not to inform them about certain parts of her conversation with the duke. William Fitzroy, Duke of Blandford, admitted he had never stopped loving Lady Anne and had always kept an eye on her children, ready to help them in any way possible. It was a touching encounter, with the image of Lady Anne vivid in their hearts.
“I shall let you continue your discussion now and shut the door!” Lady Edwina said with a wry smile.
As soon as the door closed, Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “All the questions are answered now, my love. Go to the duke as you wanted to do this morning and give him the letters. I have reason to believe he would be grateful for any sign from Lady Anne.”