They continued their conversation, mainly concentrating on family matters. The duke seemed exceedingly interested in Darcy’s family and the Bennets, and his curiosity appeared entirely genuine.
No matter how much Darcy pondered, he could discern no possible motive the Duke of Blandford might have for taking such an interest in his affairs.
And just as Darcy prepared to leave, the duke familiarly took his elbow. “You and the ladies of your family will do me the favour of attending a ball I shall host in your honour. In fact, I await a list of people I should invite as your guests.”
“Let us settle, once and for all, this injustice that Lady Catherine and London intend to inflict upon your wife. I shall host my annual ball in two weeks, which I customarily hold… inMarch. However, this year, I shall give it in December in honour of your marriage to Miss Bennet.”
“Your Grace!” exclaimed Darcy, overwhelmed, wondering why such a powerful man would do something so significant for him. And perhaps the question was plain upon his face, for the duke smiled.
“Let us say it is but a small favour I grant to your mother, Lady Anne, whom I knew very well in my youth.”
It was a privilege Darcy never expected. The duke’s amiable manners and cordial tone startled him; his more than kind view of Darcy’s family and desire to help was puzzling.
He could not fail to observe that his one-hour discussion with Blandford had contributed to his popularity in the club. As he passed through the main hall, attendees greeted him with curiosity and deference that told an interesting story: his meeting with the duke was so crucial that London had to accept Darcy’s decisions.
But somewhere in his mind, a shadow from the past continued to disturb him. It was so insistent that he had difficulty concentrating as he collected his marriage licence. He had to visit the office of the Archbishop of Canterbury at Doctors’ Commons. It cost him £14 12s, a fair price that gave them the right to marry at any place and time of the family’s choosing. He was happy to have the licence in his pocket as he intended to use it at the slightest sign that something or someone might try to come between Elizabeth and him.
∞∞∞
As his solicitor’s office was in the club’s neighbourhood, he presented himself to announce his upcoming wedding. Darcy knew from his mother’s will that a codicil would be revealed onlyupon his marriage. When his mother died, there was so much pain that he gave no thought to the codicil. He was eighteen then, and his marriage seemed like an event from another world. But in the last months, since he began to admire and then to love Elizabeth, that secret his mother saved for his marriage became a sweet question that frequently came to mind. What did his dear mother think of his marriage? Did she have some personal recommendations for him and, perhaps, for his wife too?
Legally, the solicitor should have waited to see the marriage consent signed before revealing the codicil. Yet, the licence and the agreement signed with Mr Bennet proved enough for him. Although surprised, Darcy did not protest as it was in his interest to read his mother’s legacy for his marriage as soon as possible.
He received a package tied with an old, delicate ribbon that his mother likely had taken from one of her gowns. Darcy experienced a profound emotion as he imagined his mother tying the white ribbon as she thought of her son, who was only a young man then.
He felt an irrepressible urge to be alone for some moments, alone with his memories. He would share all his treasures with Elizabeth, but first, he had to discover what his mother had left him. He asked his coachman to take him to ‘The Coopers Arms’ in Covent Garden, where he could sit privately and open the package.
Inside, he found two sheets of paper and a key, which fell to the ground. Curious, he looked at the key; he could not imagine what it unlocked. It might be any drawer in her rooms in London or Pemberley. It was a secret to be unveiled later, probably after reading her letter.
He recognised the first page as a part of her last will and testament with a new provision: his wife was to receive a certain sum from Lady Anne Darcy’s personal fortune. Darcyclosed his eyes, incapable of controlling his emotions. With great foresight, his mother had provisioned in her will for his future wife a valuable gift, assuring her independence—a gesture that moved him deeply. He intended to secure Elizabeth’s future the moment she became his wife. Yet, his mother had already conceived the same plan. As he read her words, he strove to conceal the emotion that threatened to betray him and let tears fall on his face for the first time since his mother’s death.
I decided to provide this stipend for my future daughter-in-law to provide for her independence and ensure she becomes a good wife for my son—out of love and not material interests.
He read the codicil over and over; although written in legal terms, he could feel between the rigid lines his mother’s care for his future: her wish for him to find a woman he would love and that she, in her turn, would marry for genuine affection.
He closed his eyes and told his mother that he, indeed, had found such a woman.
After a while, he decided to read the letter. He imagined Lady Anne writing it in her parlour in London. He could see her in front of her secrétaire, but once this image appeared, the fog that had floated over his mind for the last two hours rapidly dissipated. He knew the meaning of his epiphany in the duke’s club parlour. Sudden cold sweat ran down his body, and he felt a great shiver of equal violence. He knew.
Darcy ran to the carriage, shouting to the coachman to hurry; the short distance to his house seemed an eternity. Not even waiting for the carriage to stop, he jumped out and ran up the stairs to Elizabeth’s door. He knocked impatiently and entered to find her at the same secrétaire. Surprised, he stopped for an instant, noticing it was no longer in its usual place but just in front of the windows.
Elizabeth stood to find her betrothed, sweating with a reddened face that made her heart stop. Something distressing had happened; she was sure of that. A moment later, her concern increased as Darcy spoke.
“The secrétaire—you moved it!”
“Yes—did I do something wrong?”
“No, no!” Darcy said absently, but forgetting about Elizabeth, he ran to a wall covered by wooden panels that the desk had previously concealed. After some effort, he slid open a panel, revealing a painting behind it. Elizabeth’s initial fears were reassured; this was not about their marriage but something else about the hidden painting that affected Darcy profoundly. He fell into a chair as though all his strength had abandoned him, repeating, “It is he…It is he…”
Elizabeth put her hand on his cheek, tenderly trying to calm him. “Who, my love? Who?”
Attracted by the disturbance, Georgiana appeared at the door. She looked in complete disbelief at the painting, and as her brother did, she sat on the nearest chair, facing the picture.
“My God!” she said. “What is this painting doing in Mama’s room? Who is he?”
Both equally interested, the two women turned to Darcy, whose dark expression disclosed that he knew the answer.
“It is the Duke of Blandford,” he said, wholly astonished, then turned, only to see their mother’s portrait facing the duke on the opposite wall.
