Suddenly, she was feverish, her face on fire, but she tried to comfort him since he was the desperate one.
“Let us run away!” she said. It was not an unreasonable choice, made during the momentary tension. Her voice was determined, even cold, but steady, unlike her shivering body.
“Now, immediately, I do not care about marriage—I want to be with you!” She was almost crying, and for a moment, Fitzroy was afraid someone might hear them.
Thirty years after that night, he still regretted his decision; he should have listened to her, run far away, and never come back. But he wanted a normal life for her, to appear on his arm in society, not to expose her to a scandal that would eventually ruin her reputation. She seemed reckless, yet she had a clear and determined mind, while he had been nothing but an arrogant young man. He thought he could solve all their problems.
He told her his plan in a few words. “Do you think your father would consent so we could have the licence to marry?”
It was a difficult question. Anne did not know her father well enough to answer it. In the torrent of problems around them, he forgot about the only plan that could have saved them, the single clear and straightforward plan: to run away that very night.
“My father will probably allow us to marry, but you must not tell him the truth. After the marriage, we shall tellhim more, but for now, just tell him your father was against it because we are too young…”
It was precisely what he intended to say to the earl.
∞∞∞
As he expected, Anne’s father realised in an instant all the benefits such an alliance could bring.
“I shall accompany you to London tomorrow to help you get a Bishop’s Licence. My presence is compulsory as Anne is under twenty-one,” the Earl of Matlock said, proving he was well accustomed to those problems regarding his daughters’ marriage.
It was more than Fitzroy could hope for, and he began to see the future in brighter colours, an unforgivable mistake. In desperate cases, only vigilance brings success.
He obtained the licence with less difficulty than he expected; he had to wait a few days before marrying, but there were no banns to be read, so nobody would be aware of their marriage. Suddenly, he felt that fate was on their side, a judgement that proved misleading and wrong.
The earl had the estate near a parish he knew well, as he had grown up in the region. The clergyman was an old, trustworthy man who had baptised him and his brothers. In fact, this was not a favour they were requesting but a legitimate marriage. The presence of the bride’s parents would have reinforced the legitimacy if any doubts remained.
He went home that night as he did not want his father to believe he had run away. Fitzroy descended for dinner, but few words were spoken. It was a horrible evening, but not different from any other meal they shared. He was happy to leave after his wedding and hoped he would never return to live in thathouse. He had a lovely estate in north Wales where he intended to live with Anne, but first, he arranged to depart for Ghent. A ship would be waiting for them to cross the sea.
It was the first night he had slept in a long time; there had been little time for rest between the passion and worries. Yet he woke tired and with a terrible headache, as if his mind and body refused to be away from Anne. Yet he had to wait a few more days, and he did so, still in his father’s house, as he already suspected that his father would have a man following him.
As planned, they met in front of the church at nine o’clock, a week later. It was a cloudy day, but as they entered the church, a ray of sunshine passed through the clouds and lit the steps of the church as Anne arrived. It was an image that would haunt his life: Anne, with a little bouquet of flowers, climbing the few steps and wearing a smile that competed with the sun. He wondered whether his heart, which was so full, might explode and return to earth as an ethereal rain to envelop his love.
It was too painful to remember the wedding. He never did during all the years that passed because the moment she said, ‘Yes,’ he thought they would be together forever.
“At the end, Mr Somerville, the minister, invited us to the Parsonage…” the duke’s voice was only a whisper. Darcy moved his chair closer to hear every word.
“In thirty years, I have never thought—not once—of that day.”
He stopped and silently asked Darcy to give him the paper from the register. He looked at the writing intensely as he continued to speak.
“We agreed to go to the parsonage, which was another mistake. At that moment, my plans with the boat and Ghentwere secret—not even Anne knew. I did not conceal it from her deliberately, but we did not have time to discuss it in the madness of those last days. Nobody would have found us if I had taken Anne away at that moment. My father could have ripped out all the pages in the world; from Ghent, we would have gone even further away!”
The duke had tears in his eyes, but he did not try to hide them. He was too tired.
“And…?” Darcy inquired like a child eager to continue an enchanting tale, and the gentleman smiled between his tears. “How did your father find you?” Darcy insisted.
The duke looked again at the document and read, “‘Watford Parish.’ I had decided to forget that name a long time ago. What a way to remember! We were at the table where the clergyman’s daughter had prepared a light meal and glasses of wine, a pleasant surprise for which we were grateful. Anne placed the document certifying our marriage on the table between us. Now and then, she glanced at it and smiled.
We were happy, while the earl had one drink too many and told us stories from his youth. Then, suddenly, there was a disturbance in the courtyard. Mr Somerville went to see what was happening, but when he returned, he was so troubled that he could hardly speak.
“’ It is for you,’ he said, looking at me with great sadness. He was not afraid but sad—that I remember well. The next moment, my father was in the room. And not alone—six or more people were waiting in the hall. He was very polite, only I could see the anger beneath his courtly manners. He asked for the register, and as the minister was not moving, he ordered his daughter to get it, and in front of us, one of the men cut out the page. Then my father, as politely as you please, made the terrified minister copy the two marriages written before ours on the next page. He took the marriage document from the tableand tore it apart until it was nothing but small pieces, which he threw on the floor with a theatrical gesture.
All traces removed! He grabbed me against my will with the help of four men against whom I could not defend myself. And we left forever.”
“And Anne?” shouted Darcy, forgetting that the ‘Anne’ from the past was his mother.
“The last thing, which was seared in my mind and my soul, was her cry for help, her begging them not to hurt me, and her face filled with tears. I never knew the details of the following events. Still, I assume my father and your grandfather arranged the marriage with Mr Darcy, a man—I later found out—to be respectable and worthy. For months, I wallowed in such despair that life lost all meaning for me.”
