Darcy looked up at Anne. “I do not understand? What does this…” He shot to his feet. “Lady Catherine has always told me she wrote this letter weeks before her arrival. That she had no time to rewrite it and that her solicitor approved it…but the date from the solicitor is after my mother’s death!”
“And?”
“And,” he said, deflating back into the chair. “How did she know the babe would be a girl? If she wrote this weeks before Georgie’s birth, she could not know.” He dropped his face into his hands. “She lied to me. All these years, she lied to me.”
Anne was silent for a moment, and then replied quietly, “She lied to us, William, and I cannot conceive why.”
“I can, and I will confront her for it.”
“But there is more.” She reached back in her pocket and pulled out another letter. “I also found this. It is from Lady Anne addressed to you.”
His heart racing, Darcy saw the wax seal of his mother on the opened letter.
“I was not the one who opened it, as it is written to you, Cousin.”
He held the letter in his fingers and stared at it before looking back up at her. “Anne, as you said, we are not to blame for the actions of your mother. Whatever this letter contains may or may not change the course of our lives. But I would beg you, allow me a moment to read it alone.”
“Of course.” She stood and retreated to her rooms, while Darcy, for the second time that week, waited for a lady to leave the room so he could read a letter from a woman he loved.
My Dearest Fitzwilliam,
My heart breaks knowing that when you read this letter, I will no longer be with you. You are my joy, my sweet son, the pride of your mother’s heart. You are everything I have ever wanted in a child—honest, dependable, generous, kind. There are so many things I wish to say but the most important is this: follow your heart. Do not allow others to dictate your life. My sister, your aunt, has decided you shall marry Anne. As dear as Anne is to me, I wish you to find a wife for yourself. Do not allow family obligations and honor to impede your judgment. If Anne is your choice, then I wish you happy. If she is not, choose a woman who I would be friends with, who will challenge you, and bring pleasure to your heart.
Speak of me to Georgiana, the mother who loved her. Protect her. Surround her with women of confidence and affection, who will bring her happiness and be examples to her.
Listen to your father. He is the best of men, and ours was a love match, forged in the heavens. Know that I am always with you.
I love you, sweet son.
You are my Joy,
Your dearest Mama
He did not recognizethe script but the signature was hers.This must be the lost letter Mrs. Smith wrote!He had read it for the third time when the footman knocked and entered the room. “Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you, sir.”
The colonel brushed past the footman and planted himself directly in the chair Anne had abandoned moments before.
“Richard.”
“Darce, I…”
He held up his hand to forestall his cousin’s speech. “Richard, I owe you an apology. I was thoughtless and unfeeling. But something has recently come to my attention that affects us all.”
Darcy handed his mother’s letter to Richard, then leaned back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. When Richard was finished reading, he looked across at his cousin.
“What does this mean…”
“You love her, Richard. Go to her. Take her to Gretna Greene or to London and ensconce her in Darcy House. I will send a note with you for the servants to not allow entrance to none but you, if you wish. Get a special license and marry the woman you love. Waste no time. Aunt Catherine is dining out. Take my carriage. I will follow tomorrow.” Darcy pushed back from the desk and stood. “I have lived the last five years to please others, and I am now going to please myself. You must do the same!”
Richard waited mere seconds for the revelation to register before standing and pulling his cousin to him. Emerging from an impulsive embrace, he slapped Darcy’s back. “Yes, well. I must be off. Do you think my Anne will enjoy haggis and bagpipes?”
“There is only one way to find out, Cousin. Godspeed. I expect to see you at Pemberley when the dust settles.”
Richard turned and was about to exit the room, when he stopped and looked back at Darcy. “Are you for Hertfordshire?”
“I fear I may be too late.”
Richard clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It is never too late when a woman looks at you the way Miss Bennet looks at you. Stop licking your wounds and go to her. You deserve happiness.”
