He held her at arm’s length, looking into her eyes. “I need to see you.” The outside light illuminated the space between them, and he could clearly see her face as he said, “I could be the next Duke of Blandford.” Even to him, those words were strange and had little meaning.
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth was stunned for an instant, and he smiled at her astonishment.
“It is true, my love,” he said, but then he spoke with a determination that filled his body with liveliness. “I cannot stay away from you a minute longer. Let us get married.”
But Elizabeth, with her wisdom, caressed his face and whispered, “Let us first see how this…matterwill be resolved, and on the following day, we shall marry, I promise you.”
Darcy nodded, satisfied with her response. He had to first accept that his father was the Duke of Blandford. But could such a truth be accepted without casting a dreadful stain uponhis mother? Unfortunately, that was the reality—he could no longer deny it. The resemblance between them was no mere coincidence. Yet a lingering dilemma remained: had his father known? And each time he pondered this, he felt a dagger pierce his heart. The pain was sharp, as though physical, for it seemed to him that fate had cruelly wronged his father.
He would have preferred his father never to know.
But if his father had known, then Darcy’s love for him was even greater, for he had raised a child who was not of his own blood as if he were, making him the heir not only to his fortune but also to the virtues he had imparted to him day by day.
Chapter 20
Asingle question remained between them: what should they tell Georgiana, Lady Edwina, and finally, the rest of the family? It was complicated as it was not his secret alone or a simple one.
But the problem was solved when, just as he descended for breakfast, Parker came to inform him that the Duke of Blandford was waiting in the library.
It took Darcy a few seconds to understand. “In my library?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, sir. His Grace asked me to conduct him there and announce his arrival to you.”
Darcy stood quickly and hurried to the library without a glance at the surprised faces around the table. He was as confused and worried as he had been when he left the duke’s house the night before.
As Darcy entered, he discovered the gentleman pacing the room impatiently. They both hesitated, having the same dilemma, but the duke was happy to see him, and a genuine smile warmed his face.
The duke had not slept the previous night, thinking about the child of love who finally found his way to him. And he allowed all the recollections to spring back to life for the first time in many years. The love between Anne and him was not dead, as he had thought for so many years; it existed in a young man he loved and cherished after only a day. All night, he prepared himself to offer Darcy the place he rightfully deserved in his life. He could wait no longer.
So great was his impatience that, as morning broke, he was ready to leave. It was too early for a call at Darcy House, so he rode throughout his dear London. He saluted the Thames as he did each time he was happy; then, along the empty, foggy streets, he tried to put his feelings and thoughts in order. It took him some time to arrive at the proper solution, but the good old town helped him. Regardless of the difficulties, he had a moral obligation to deal with the state of matters that the page from the marriage registry unveiled; further, the document in his possession gave him a legal direction.
Then, a unique wish remained at Darcy’s door: to recognise him as his son and heir.
∞∞∞
“Please sit, Fitzwilliam—we have to talk.”
The duke had been reflecting profoundly ever since discovering the truth. Still, the circumstances began to fall into place only in Darcy’s library.
“The document from the church register has to be proven original. Unfortunately, the minister is dead, but I hope his daughter is still alive.”
Darcy listened in silence, looking at the duke with the expression of a reluctant, fearful child.
“The letter we did not finish, my boy!” the duke said impatiently. “Your mother explained what happened to the registered document. Anne received it only a year before her death, and the minister’s daughter brought it.”
As Darcy was still silent, the duke tried to temper his nervousness and continued less impatiently and kindlier. “It is all explained in your mother’s letter that we did not finish reading yesterday,” he repeated with a tender smile, hoping that, eventually, Darcy would recover from his state of oblivion.
“The poor woman came to Anne and apologetically gave her the document. She said it was not destroyed as my father had wished but was abandoned near the church. Likely, the man who cut out the page was afraid to tear it apart. It was, after all, church property. The minister found it by chance in the grass, saving it from destruction. He kept it for a long time, unsure what to do. His mission as a clergyman was subverted by weaklings and cowards, and his honour was shattered by this act. Regardless, on his deathbed, he instructed his daughter to find Anne and give her the document. If we can prove the document is the original page, my marriage to Hilda is annulled.”
“Sir, no!” Darcy looked like he had just woken up from a deep sleep, struggling to stop the man in front of him. It was too much—too soon! He needed time.
“My dear boy,” the duke said, and this time it sounded like a father addressing his son, “it is not for you to decide. You are one of my children like the other three, your half-siblings: Louis, Harriet, and Ralston—”
He stopped when he saw Darcy breathing with difficulty, but he was determined to go on, so much so that he missed all the possible effects of such an action. It was uncertain if Darcy shared his feelings or was ready to agree tohissolution to their problem.
Yet, the duke was drunk with happiness. Lady Anne gave him his first child, and it did not matter that he discovered the truth thirty years later. His son was the precious remainder of his long-lost love, and he yearned to re-establish the order they had lost in that churchyard. He had neither the time nor the understanding to see what was happening with Darcy; he just wanted to mend the mistakes of the past. But on seeing Darcy’s troubled face, he made an effort to temper his joy.
“I had all night to make plans. I shall try not to rush you, as I understand it is difficult to accept, and you may need time. However, now that I know the truth, I am pained that we have already lost too much time. Almost thirty years.”
