Ignoring the painting, all their interests now turned to the packet he brought and the papers inside. Darcy gave Georgianathe package and the ribbon, watching her eyes fill with tears. She was only six years old when their mother died, and she remembered so little about her. But their mother spoiled and loved them, and only illness prevented her from being close to them in her last months of life.
“She was beautiful, elegant, and full of life.” Georgiana smiled sadly. “When I was five, I received a pony, while my mother had a stunning white stallion. One day, she proposed we race, and the stallion, as if he understood my mother’s intention, let me win the race on my little pony!”
Darcy nodded; now that his sister had told the story, he remembered that scene, which had been forgotten long ago. He realised it was the same as with the painting—a hidden memory that needed a clue to become a reality. And in this case, the evidence was the duke himself.
They hesitated to read Lady Anne’s letter; despite their curiosity, there was a certain embarrassment, for they would be her children no matter their age.
“In the package I received from the solicitor, there were two papers: a codicil to her will and a letter for me.”
He was silent again. They were in her rooms, near the secrétaire where she used to spend all her mornings, and both Georgiana and Darcy had the impression they were children again, disobeying their mother. But Lady Anne Darcy had died a long time ago; both her children were adults, and the letter she left them had been written to unveil a secret she considered they had to know.
Georgiana held the package and the ribbon tightly to her chest. Darcy pulled a key from his coat pocket and looked at Georgiana. “In Mama’s message, I also found this key.” The anticipation of what the key might unlock was palpable.
Georgiana received the key with the same wariness that she took the package, as though she was not entitled to touchit. Elizabeth had to admit she was from a very different family, and it was not a question of wealth or power but the intimate relationship that existed in families. Darcy and Georgiana approached those objects from the past as if they were holy relics, not just memories from their parents. In her family, those letters would have been read in no time and followed by discussion and arguments. She and her sisters dearly loved their parents, but the respect was at the same level as the love. In Lady Anne’s sitting room, her children, who were by now adults, treated the memories with a solemnity that made Elizabeth wonder what a normal day looked like in the Darcy family when both parents were alive. She reflected that, regardless of Darcy’s notions about their children’s education, she would also impose rules based on joyfulness and everyone contributing to the welfare of the family.
She gazed at Darcy in astonishment, striving to comprehend what their life would be like. Yet, she recalled him playful and sarcastic, jesting or amused. Ultimately, she realised that such a reverent atmosphere could exist only because Mr and Mrs Darcy were dead.
Darcy gestured for Georgiana to join them on the sofa, and they made room for the girl between them as both embraced her.
Elizabeth seemed more curious about the letters than the siblings themselves.
“Fortunately, Lady Edwina will be here in the morning,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth looked at them both and said in a deliberately joyful tone, “Do you want me to read the letter?”
If she had been looking at Darcy, she would have seen pride, but Elizabeth was looking at Georgiana, who needed her attention much more than Darcy did then.
With every passing day, even in those instances of intense emotion for his mother, Darcy realised that Elizabeth would bring to their family a fresh breeze that would change their relationships in a positive way. She was spontaneous and cheerful, and her devotion was so genuine and caring that she did not impose on others but offered her help with a kind heart, ready to commit herself without any reward.
“Yes, dearest,” Darcy said, “we shall not wait for Lady Edwina to read the letter. I want to know its contents now!”
“As you can see,” he continued, looking at Elizabeth, “I have lost all propriety in favour of this new spontaneity.” He was mocking Elizabeth, who only smiled at his tone as it allowed her to imagine a little master, Darcy, ten years old, who thought he owned the world.
“But first,” he continued, “I shall read mother’s codicil or at least unveil its contents as it is written in a language only solicitors understand.”
He rang for Parker and asked for a glass of brandy; in truth, he wanted to show his butler that he was sorry for his former anger. Darcy barely remembered governesses as he spent almost all his time with Parker, who became his valet at eighteen and then his butler when his father died. He had to admit that he was envious of Parker’s dedication to his mother. Like a selfish child, he would have preferred Parker only for himself. However, the butler’s discretion and the impeccable way he kept her secrets over the years were traits of his noblest character.
The girls were waiting impatiently. Darcy was too restrained for Elizabeth’s taste, but she had to learn to adapt to his rhythms; sometimes, his way of considering before acting was meant to avoid mistakes—but not always, as the past proved; sometimes, his stiffness caused him to make mistakes.
Parker entered the room with the glass of brandy on a tray; still, both men knew it was only an excuse. Darcy was sorry.The butler nodded with a smile while offering his master the glass, and all bad feelings between them were forgotten.
“Mama,” Darcy said abruptly, “left my future wife a yearly income of £1500.”
Elizabeth was so surprised that she could not speak. Fifteen hundred pounds a year was a huge income, especially considering she would live at Pemberley. She looked from Darcy to Georgiana, not knowing precisely what to say. She was tempted to refuse; after all, Darcy’s mother was a stranger to her. However, those matters were established with the family solicitors. Darcy’s father certainly was present when his wife signed the documents—as was customary when money, incomes, and estates were involved—so it was not easy to refuse. But then she realised how selfish it would be for her to refuse when her father’s death might plunge her mother and unmarried sisters into a state of near poverty. Having a personal income would give her the ability to help them. Suddenly, Lady Anne Darcy was no longer a stranger but an angel who looked upon her as she did her own children.
“This money,” Darcy said, “is yours; you can dispose of it as you wish. You understand that the codicil is my moral duty for as long as you live.”
“I accept it,” Elizabeth said with a shy smile.
Darcy knew her thoughts just from looking at her. The money would be spent on good causes and not on frivolities.
Unfortunately for her, Elizabeth could not read her future husband’s mind, as he was thinking that, regarding the frivolities, he would attentively take care to provide them all. He had only a half smile, imagining some of his gifts.
“Our parents provided for Georgiana with the utmost fairness, and now, we discover they also thought about my future wife.”
Georgiana smiled; she was like Elizabeth in many ways: unselfish and considerate.
“I am so amazed by Mama,” Darcy said, mainly to Georgiana. “How well she knew me! She spoiled us every moment of our childhood, but she was certain I would choose my wife based on her personal qualities. Mama knew our inner essence and never doubted that. I hope I have grown up to meet her expectations.”
