“Now,” Elizabeth said to overcome her emotion, “let us read the letter unless you decide otherwise.”
Elizabeth and Darcy were looking at Lady Anne’s portrait on the wall opposite the duke’s portrait—as if they were intended to look at each other forever.
Lady Anne Darcy was in an elaborate court gown with a small hoop and a tight corset. A weighty blue silk material that constructed her gown in style à l’anglaise. Elizabeth wondered about the change of fashion in only thirty years and how happy she was about that change. But Lady Anne’s hair was natural, dressed merely in a mass of curls that gave her a delightful appearance.
In the portrait, she looked happy; she had a glow that Darcy recognised as love. He had seen that portrait many times, but now, since he had Elizabeth in his life, he could discern the emotions.
Acknowledging that she placed her portrait opposite the duke and not his father was demanding, if not sad. Perhaps Georgiana still did not understand, but he was a grown man who had seen love in many circumstances. He wondered whether he had the right to shatter his mother’s image with Georgiana. The letter was for him, but more than thirty years had passed since the portrait had been painted, and fashion was not the only thing that had changed. The people had as well.
“Good,” Darcy said, “enough hesitation. My only doubt is regarding you, little sister. After reading this letter, we shall look at our past differently. I decided to involve you in these disclosures as I am almost sure the letter is a confession.”
Darcy was wrong. The letter in Elizabeth’s hands was not a confession—at least not a direct one.
Elizabeth read in a steady voice, for she did not want to create excitement, pain or frustration.
My dear,
In the package, along with this letter, you will find a codicil to my will that entitles your future wife to a comfortable income. I want her to love you for all your qualities, not the wealth you will bring to the marriage. As the law requires, your father signed the codicil. He has graciously accepted any of my wishes about your inheritance.
I would have loved to know your wife, but I am sure you chose appropriately and will marry a worthy, strong, and independent woman—the way I hope I had been.
I cannot be ungrateful, as destiny blessed me with an understanding husband and two beautiful children, my unique gifts.
You will also find a key in the package. It guards a long-kept secret—my life’s secret—and it is up to you whether you decide to unveil it. Regardless, I approve of your decision.
If you decide to uncover my secret, that will be possible only after your father’s death. Lady Edwina will guide you in using the key when the time arrives.
It is also entirely up to you to include dear little Georgiana in this secret, but no sooner than her twenty-first birthday.
I hope you and Georgiana will have splendid lives. Please, both of you, heed my last advice: never marry without love.
Your mother, who loves you,
Anne Darcy
Elizabeth set the letter down, and in the silence that followed, she searched for Darcy’s eyes, waiting for him to speak.
“My father has been dead for five years,” he said, looking at Georgiana. “One condition has been met.”
“But I am not yet twenty-one,” Georgiana whispered.
“No,” Darcy replied. “But it is already too late to hide anything from you. We are expecting Lady Edwina, and after that, we shall proceed exactly as she advises.”
Both ladies smiled, for it was precisely what they desired.
Chapter 10
Darcy needed to be alone with Elizabeth, and fortunately, that was about to happen; that evening, Georgiana was to accompany Bingley and Jane to dine at the Hurst family. The invitation had been extended to them several days prior, and Darcy had declined on behalf of himself and Elizabeth. Yet, in light of the day’s recent events at the club, Georgiana and Jane had the secret mission of informing the dinner guests about Darcy’s meeting with the Duke of Blandford and the ball the duke would have in Darcy and Elizabeth’s honour. It was such a privilege that Darcy was sure the Bingley sisters would reflect on their attitude towards Elizabeth. If Elizabeth were received by the duke as a guest of honour, nobody in London would dare speak of her with other than respect.
“It is not so utterly important howtheytreat me,” Elizabeth said to the Darcys, Jane, and Mr Bingley assembled in the music room.
Georgiana was playing the pianoforte, trying to act normally and release the tension that Lady Anne’s letter provoked.
“It is for me!” Darcy said with conviction.
Bingley—who was entirely on their side regardless of his kinship with the Hursts—planned to use the new relationship with the Duke of Blandford to make his two sisters understand that an unfriendly attitude towards Elizabeth was not to their advantage. In many circles in London and elsewhere, friendship and a benevolent attitude were obtained by ruse and privilege rather than natural admiration, respect, or truth.
In the past, Darcy had little regard for such schemes. However, since Elizabeth became his intended, he wanted only respect and kindness around her, and lately, it did not matter how those attitudes might be obtained.
