Mr Darcy’s Legacy

Chapter 17

“P erhaps her letter will tell us more,” the duke said. “I must confess that I have been waiting for this all my life. I shall read it aloud, but I shall keep the passages that concern only Anne and me to myself.”

Darcy understood and agreed; he had no desire to intrude even more in such an intimate and long-lasting relationship. He considered that, as a son, he already knew too much.

The duke opened the letter slowly, but he began reading so suddenly that Darcy was startled, drawn from his thoughts by the duke’s voice.

My dear,

There are things unfinished between us. But I have decided to let all be forever forgotten, except one.

If you are reading this letter, it means Will came to you…

The duke stopped reading and looked at him. “Will? Who is Will?”

“That is I,” Darcy responded, his mother’s sweet voice resonating in his head. “Only she called me so.”

The duke looked at him as if trying to delve into his mind and soul. “Stand up, please!” he suddenly demanded.

Puzzled, Darcy thought he was angry and wondered what had happened in such a short time. But the duke’s countenance showed no anger; it wore deep tiredness and a storm of other feelings Darcy could not read. He stood as he was told, not understanding the sense of the request.

In an instant, the duke stood too and quickly said, “Come with me, please.”

He followed the duke to the far end of a brightly lit hall; Darcy could only imagine they were heading to the ballroom. Indeed, at the end of the main hall were the famous greenish stairs that marked Anne and the duke’s first encounter. The view from upstairs was breathtaking; to his surprise, an army of servants was moving around.

The duke invited him to descend. “They are preparing the room for the ball in your honour Saturday night,” 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 him the preparations for the ball, but why so suddenly, and why in the middle of reading 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. You may continue later.”

Suddenly, everybody was gone, and the extraordinary room was empty. It opened onto the park from a wall of glass doors, while the other walls held enormous Venetian mirrors, making the large room look even more impressive. Darcy had descended the stairs with a strong sense that his mother’s shade surrounded them. Still, he did not understand why the duke brought him there. Perhaps it was just to remember her. They stopped next to each other in front of a mirror. Then the truth burst, whole and plain, as if he had always known it inside, and now it erupted to the world.

“You are my son, Will…” the duke said, his voice trembling, a smile softening his tearful face and his gaze filled with affection. It was the most beautiful smile Darcy had ever seen on a man’s face.

It was indisputable—they were alike: same stature, same 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 needed support. He seemed to be relying on his son’s strength.

After some moments, he continued, “Go home, my son, and we shall 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, hurrying home where Elizabeth, his future wife, was waiting for him.