Mr Darcy’s Legacy

Chapter 22

“Y ou look stunning,” Darcy exclaimed with admiration, seeing Elizabeth as she descended the stairs prepared for the visit to the duke. Her new outfit had arrived a day before from Mrs Camberley, a green pelisse with delicate black fur that accentuated the brightness of her face. As for the gown, a masterpiece of ingenuity, it had two different pieces, one shorter in a superb light claret red and the other one longer in the colour of Burgundy wine with intricate embroidery. She wore a ruby necklace, one of Lady Anne Darcy’s jewels that Darcy favoured. He was so proud of her that, in the carriage, he almost forgot the motive of their visit with the duke. Yearning to feel her close to him, he tried to kiss her, but Elizabeth, who could not temper her emotions and impatience, looked at him with reproach while defending herself. Then she laughed, kissed him on his cheek, and made him regain his bench with a voice that sounded playful. But beneath her amused eyes, he could see how exhilarated yet nervous she was because of the visit.

For a few moments, both rediscovered the ease granted by their fulfilled love, but as they reached the duke’s residence, they both paused, overwhelmed by strong emotions. He took Elizabeth’s arm as the purpose of their visit resurfaced in his mind, sending a cold shiver through his body. Meanwhile, as Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage, she froze in awe—never had she imagined that one day she would cross the threshold of such a house.

The Duke of Blandford’s house was a fortress and a palace at the same time. It was a vast edifice built by the first duke to impress and inspire respect for their social status. After over two centuries, the 6th Duke of Blandford imposed many changes that transformed the sombre structure into a magnificent mansion with impressive high windows and unusual bright colours for the grey London.

The duke received them in his parlour, a chamber that vibrated strength and warmth, a distinctly masculine retreat Elizabeth admired as much as she enjoyed. The room bore the unmistakable mark of its owner—filled with carefully chosen objects that spoke of refinement without ostentation. A magnificent clock caught her eye, and, forgetting for a moment where she was, she stepped closer to admire it.

“She loves clocks,” Darcy said with a soft laugh, grateful that their visit had begun on such a convivial note.

“Then the clock is yours, my wedding gift to you,” the duke declared. And though Elizabeth began to protest, he silenced her with a resolute smile. “It is merely the beginning of a collection I hope to contribute further.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, still incredulous, glancing from the duke to Darcy, who watched her with unmistakable admiration.

“My mother loved—”

“Miniatures,” the duke finished Darcy’s sentence, and at that, they settled into a genuinely comfortable ease. Meanwhile, Elizabeth let her gaze wander over the elegant yet unpretentious room, which struck a delicate balance between imposing and inviting, a place meant to delight and embrace those who entered. It was so unlike her notion of a parlour—a room in which everything was meticulously arranged for the sake of guests, where even a single chair out of place might be considered an offence against the order. The duke’s home, though grand, was neither intimidating nor cold as she had feared. Instead, it was a home she could see herself inhabiting, where life could be lived rather than merely displayed.

The duke approached them warmly, looking at her with approval and admiration and inquiring of Darcy teasingly, “May I compliment your future wife?”

They both laughed. Darcy was pleased to see the duke bow to Elizabeth courteously and express his genuine appreciation. Darcy was fully aware that the duke did not exaggerate. No compliment was enough to do Elizabeth justice.

Once seated, the duke abruptly began the conversation, addressing both of them and glancing at Elizabeth rather often as though needing her support.

“I am ready to proceed and fulfil all the legal implications the marriage registry has brought to our lives. I know the document is the original from the church’s register, but I must prove it. Then my marriage will be annulled and the first marriage recognised. And you will become the rightful and legal heir of the dukedom.”

A deep silence fell over the room, so intense that it disquieted them. The duke watched them with growing fear as what he saw was far from his expectation: Darcy, unmoved and pale, and Elizabeth, less than pleased with the prospect of becoming a duchess.

But Darcy did not hesitate to answer, proving that he had profoundly reflected on the words he wanted to use, and if his voice was hesitant, it was only because he came to respect the man in front of them. “Sir, I admire your determination to do what you feel is just, regardless of the scandal or consequences that might follow. I am proud to be one of the objects of your affection and the inducement for such acts.”

“I just want to restore the rights we were deprived of when our marriage document was torn from the register. I am eager to repair a horrid injustice. You are my firstborn son, and Anne was my wife. But I am waiting for your answer.” His voice was filled with a sense of duty and determination to right the wrong.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, happy not to be alone in such a circumstance.

“I understand your motives, and I am deeply impressed by your love and loyalty for my beloved mother. But then, I am also shocked at how ready you are to face a scandal that will affect your family and remove his rights from your eldest son.”

“You are my eldest son!” The duke’s voice rose, filled with evident emotion.

Darcy met and held his gaze. Two pairs of eyes mirrored the same strength, the same power, the same determination, the same sense of honour and duty. Father and son, confronting, bonding, learning about themselves and each other.

“Yes, I am your first son,” Darcy hoarsely admitted. “However, Louis is the son you raised—a worthy son who made you proud. A son you love—just as you also love Harriet and Ralston—in a way few fathers do- is another proof of your remarkable character.”

The duke searched for a long moment for the proper words. “That is true. I do love my children, as I have been both mother and father to them for the last twenty years. But it is not compensation for missing you all that time. I feel discontented and angry for not being present in your life, and I cannot allow such a situation to continue. The past gave me pain and desperation. I wish to change the future.”

Darcy knew precisely what he wanted to say; he and Elizabeth had talked all day, although their decision was made in minutes. It was mutual and final—and the duke had to accept it.

“Sir, I have the highest respect and the deepest gratitude for you, and I am sure we shall bond as father and son in time. It is my wish and hope as much as it is yours. But I have a father, George Darcy, whom I profoundly love…as I shall forever. He is the father who raised me, educated me and made me the man I am today. I respect him, I love him, and I miss him. He is the only father I knew for almost thirty years and the only father I and the entire world will know.”

“So you reject me?” the duke shouted in despair.

“Not at all, sir. I only wish to state that no one will ever take my father’s place in my heart.”

“I understand and respect that. I do not intend to take his place but to gain mine! I cannot wait for more, as I have little time left.”

“But I do need time to become accustomed to our situation, sir,” Darcy replied, impressed by the duke’s obvious distress. “More time than one day. Elizabeth and I want to be a part of your family, and we are honoured by your attention. But I beg you to let Louis take the position he was raised in. He was educated to be a duke, a peer of the United Kingdom, just as I was educated to fulfil my duties and to honour my heritage. Louis is the Marquess of Brimpsfield. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, the master of Pemberley, and it is what I intend always to be.”

Darcy ended his discourse, looking with intense emotion at the duke. Then his eyes turned to Elizabeth to receive her smile of approval and tearful, adoring gaze.

“It is what suits us,” Elizabeth told the duke, her eyes still locked with Darcy’s. “And it is the life Fitzwilliam promised me.”

“You could be a duchess!” The duke made one last attempt to convince her, but Elizabeth responded with a splendid smile. They all knew the final decision had been made, and nothing would change. It was a rational decision based on honour, wisdom, delicacy, and generosity. Darcy was worried about a brother he did not yet know, willingly letting him take the position that was his by birth.

“I am sad and happy at the same time,” the duke admitted. “I am sad that I cannot remedy past mistakes, but I am happy and proud to see the kind of gentleman you became. And I must thank your father, George Darcy, for that.”

“On that, I wholeheartedly agree,” Darcy answered.

Little by little, the turmoil that governed their lives for the past days was fading, leaving in its place a serene atmosphere.

The duke smiled and unexpectedly turned to Elizabeth:

“I am finished talking to my son. Now, I shall speak only with my future daughter-in-law. I accept your decision with some conditions.”

Elizabeth was startled by such an address, looking at Darcy, who returned a helpless shrug and denied involvement in their discussion.

“What would those be, sir? And I respectfully ask Your Grace to remember that no man has the right to impose any conditions on me except my husband,” she replied in her usual teasing tone, which Darcy loved and had admired since they first met.

The duke laughed. “Upon my word, you express yourself very decidedly for someone so young!”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “I have been told that before, sir. So what might those conditions be?”

All three smiled, as this was a light-hearted conversation now that the essentials were settled.

“First, we shall discuss this great news with our closest relatives. We shall reveal the truth—that you are my first son, and I do not intend to hide it any longer. But we shall limit this news to our families; others might suspect something when Darcy is at my side, but we shall not publicly reveal more than you want. We shall let them all presume, imagine stories, gossip, and all that such news could imply. In the end, nobody will dare do more than gossip, and I think that, in a short time, it will become a settled fact in London society.”

Elizabeth agreed it was the best way to solve the problem in such a difficult situation.

“Then,” the duke continued, “in two weeks, I shall stand with your godmother, Lady Edwina, at your wedding, and if tradition requires a pair of godparents, I shall marry her!”

“Agreed, thank you!” Elizabeth exclaimed in pure delight; she was so pleased to have the duke at their wedding, but she wondered whether he was joking about Lady Edwina or whether there was a secret he had been keeping, even from himself. She studied him at the limit of politeness, but the duke was too happy to understand her gaze.

“Well, sir,” Elizabeth said, “we have nothing to negotiate, as I approve your conditions entirely. We shall happily have you at our wedding…with Lady Edwina!”

“And in the end, we are one big family. And we shall spend as much time as possible together. I hope your children will call me ‘grandfather’!”

“We accept,” Elizabeth said affectionately, looking from Darcy to the duke.

But Darcy was not satisfied. The duke and Elizabeth watched him without comprehension, so he spoke. To their relief, however, his voice had a touch of amusement.

“Your Grace,” he said, deliberately employing the title to lend weight to his words, “this young lady has promised me that if we resolve these ardent matters of the past, she shall marry me the very next day.”

“Is it true, Miss Bennet?” the duke inquired, feigning the severity of a father.

“It is, Your Grace,” Elizabeth replied, joining the jest with a twinkle in her eye, adding to the light-hearted atmosphere.

“Then let us see this marriage take place here, in the church founded by our ancestor, in three—”

“Pray, make it four,” murmured Elizabeth.

“Four days, then,” the duke said like a sort of royal edict that could not be changed.

The two lovers, overwhelmed by thrill, took each other’s hands before him as though he were the priest officiating their marriage. The duke smiled, inclining his head slightly, a gesture of complete acceptance of their union.

“One more thing!” the duke finally said, and Darcy wondered what was left to decide. Still, he already had complete confidence in the Duke of Blandford, his blood father.

“With or without that registry 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—and I hope Anne will forgive me for saying that!—you are entitled to be a member of the peerage. The Prince Regent will understand the situation, and I am sure that, after a decent period, you will receive a title. The Marquess and Marchioness of Pemberley is what I have in mind…”

“Well, sir. Is it marchioness enough for my splendid wife?” Darcy asked, and the duke burst into laughter.

“Sorry, Elizabeth, your future husband was offered a dukedom, and he refused!”