Chapter 20
A single question remained between them: what should they tell Georgiana, Lady Edwina, and finally, the rest of the family? It was complicated as it was not his secret alone or a simple one.
But the problem was solved when, just as he descended for breakfast, Parker came to inform him that the Duke of Blandford was waiting in the library.
It took Darcy a few seconds to understand. “In my library?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, sir. His Grace asked me to conduct him there and announce his arrival to you.”
Darcy stood quickly and hurried to the library without a glance at the surprised faces around the table. He was as confused and worried as he had been when he left the duke’s house the night before.
As Darcy entered, he discovered the gentleman pacing the room impatiently. They both hesitated, having the same dilemma, but the duke was happy to see him, and a genuine smile warmed his face.
The duke had not slept the previous night, thinking about the child of love who finally found his way to him. And he allowed all the recollections to spring back to life for the first time in many years. The love between Anne and him was not dead, as he had thought for so many years; it existed in a young man he loved and cherished after only a day. All night, he prepared himself to offer Darcy the place he rightfully deserved in his life. He could wait no longer.
So great was his impatience that, as morning broke, he was ready to leave. It was too early for a call at Darcy House, so he rode throughout his dear London. He saluted the Thames as he did each time he was happy; then, along the empty, foggy streets, he tried to put his feelings and thoughts in order. It took him some time to arrive at the proper solution, but the good old town helped him. Regardless of the difficulties, he had a moral obligation to deal with the state of matters that the page from the marriage registry unveiled; further, the document in his possession gave him a legal direction.
Then, a unique wish remained at Darcy’s door: to recognise him as his son and heir.
∞∞∞
“Please sit, Fitzwilliam—we have to talk.”
The duke had been reflecting profoundly ever since discovering the truth. Still, the circumstances began to fall into place only in Darcy’s library.
“The document from the church register has to be proven original. Unfortunately, the minister is dead, but I hope his daughter is still alive.”
Darcy listened in silence, looking at the duke with the expression of a reluctant, fearful child.
“The letter we did not finish, my boy!” the duke said impatiently. “Your mother explained what happened to the registered document. Anne received it only a year before her death, and the minister’s daughter brought it.”
As Darcy was still silent, the duke tried to temper his nervousness and continued less impatiently and kindlier. “It is all explained in your mother’s letter that we did not finish reading yesterday,” he repeated with a tender smile, hoping that, eventually, Darcy would recover from his state of oblivion.
“The poor woman came to Anne and apologetically gave her the document. She said it was not destroyed as my father had wished but was abandoned near the church. Likely, the man who cut out the page was afraid to tear it apart. It was, after all, church property. The minister found it by chance in the grass, saving it from destruction. He kept it for a long time, unsure what to do. His mission as a clergyman was subverted by weaklings and cowards, and his honour was shattered by this act. Regardless, on his deathbed, he instructed his daughter to find Anne and give her the document. If we can prove the document is the original page, my marriage to Hilda is annulled.”
“Sir, no!” Darcy looked like he had just woken up from a deep sleep, struggling to stop the man in front of him. It was too much—too soon! He needed time.
“My dear boy,” the duke said, and this time it sounded like a father addressing his son, “it is not for you to decide. You are one of my children like the other three, your half-siblings: Louis, Harriet, and Ralston—”
He stopped when he saw Darcy breathing with difficulty, but he was determined to go on, so much so that he missed all the possible effects of such an action. It was uncertain if Darcy shared his feelings or was ready to agree to his solution to their problem.
Yet, the duke was drunk with happiness. Lady Anne gave him his first child, and it did not matter that he discovered the truth thirty years later. His son was the precious remainder of his long-lost love, and he yearned to re-establish the order they had lost in that churchyard. He had neither the time nor the understanding to see what was happening with Darcy; he just wanted to mend the mistakes of the past. But on seeing Darcy’s troubled face, he made an effort to temper his joy.
“I had all night to make plans. I shall try not to rush you, as I understand it is difficult to accept, and you may need time. However, now that I know the truth, I am pained that we have already lost too much time. Almost thirty years.”
Torn by contradictory feelings, Darcy just looked at him, incapable of replying.
The duke breathed with force in a desperate attempt to regain his composure in the face of his son’s obvious distress. There was no joy on Darcy’s face, and the duke finally acknowledged how difficult it was for him to rethink his life and attribute different roles to the people who had raised him to be the man he was.
“Do you want me to tell you what happened after that afternoon in St Albans?” the duke asked, hoping to soothe the unbearable turmoil he felt emanating from Darcy.
Darcy nodded but only to gain time, not that he was curious. That storm of information and actions that could not be stopped frightened but also angered Darcy, who felt carried off by heavy winds to a destination he could not control. He was the son of George Darcy, the master of Pemberley. These words were like the verse of a prayer, a chant meant to protect the one who repeated them.
∞∞∞
“I lived in Hanover for five years, the most wretched years of my life. All I did for days, weeks, and months was hunt. I left the Electorate of Brunswick-Lüneburg with no game…” The duke laughed, hoping to obtain a smile from Darcy, but as nothing appeared, he continued. “I was taken to Hanover like a prisoner, a heavy guard around me—men in my father’s service. I received a letter from him that Anne was married, and from then on, nothing mattered anymore.”
“Do you know when they married?” asked Darcy, suddenly interested.
“I received the letter from my father a few days after I arrived at Hilda’s castle, perhaps a month or so after our marriage.”
Darcy was stunned by the short period they needed to marry his mother. He did not know for sure who ‘they’ were; perhaps the old duke and his mother’s father but also someone from his father’s family, his paternal grandfather. He could not imagine that his father was involved in any way in obliging Anne Fitzwilliam to marry him. Yet he could easily see the late duke and his two grandfathers deciding on such an extraordinary matter as if it were reasonable or straightforward. Not his father—he loved Pemberley and his life in the country. He was not at all fond of London or the ton. Perhaps he loved Anne, and this was an excellent opportunity to marry her. He referred to his mother with a kind of detachment. He passionately wanted not to soil his images of her and loathed that the duke had started all this madness.
In the end, he had to admit it was not the duke; his mother wanted the truth to be known. Did she wish for her son to become Duke of Blandford? Did she have that aspiration for him, or did she simply want the duke to know he had another son? That question would remain forever unanswered.
“Why did my mother do all this?” Darcy asked in desperation.
“She had to tell me the truth about you; she could not take such a secret to her grave. It was my secret as much as hers! I shall be forever grateful…but what she wanted to achieve with her revelations…that will remain unknown.”
“But her letter? Yesterday’s letter?” Darcy asked.
“There was nothing else in that letter except the revelation about you and the registry page—nothing else. You may read the letter whenever you want.”
“No!” Darcy said. “I shall not read any more letters; I shall avoid letters entirely for a while!” It was the first time he smiled, but the duke took it as an excellent sign.
“Sir,” Darcy said, more composed, “I need time.”
“I understand. But, now you know to what extent I am ready to go.”
Undoubtedly, the duke appeared ready to annul his marriage with Hilda of Hanover and deprive their eldest son of his title and fortune. Darcy admired him, but he also feared such a powerful man who could ruin so many lives for a woman he met for two months thirty years ago…and for her son, who considered Mr Darcy his father no matter what his blood said. For the first time, he honestly looked at the duke and tried to accept and then understand that he was the son of this man!
It is only blood ; he kept repeating it in his head, but he said nothing.
“Please say something,” pleaded the duke.
“Sir, let us move to the dining room. I am certain you have not eaten since last night.”
“Since yesterday morning, my son; I could not eat last evening, and I departed at dawn this morning. Yes, I could eat now, and I want to meet your family.”
“Lady Edwina is here too.”
“Dear Edwina—I am glad she can be with you now.”
“Elizabeth knows the truth about me…us,” Darcy said as they left the library.
“You told her? Good for you, my son!”
“I did not tell her, sir. She guessed the truth when she saw me next to your portrait.”
He feared the duke was not pleased, but in fact, the gentleman showed the opposite: happiness and jubilation, as though rejoicing in a grand success. William Fitzroy, Duke of Blandford, wanted the entire world to know he had a son with his Anne.