Torn by contradictory feelings, Darcy just looked at him, incapable of replying.
The duke breathed with force in a desperate attempt to regain his composure in the face of his son’s obvious distress. There was no joy on Darcy’s face, and the duke finally acknowledged how difficult it was for him to rethink his life and attribute different roles to the people who had raised him to be the man he was.
“Do you want me to tell you what happened after that afternoon in St Albans?” the duke asked, hoping to soothe the unbearable turmoil he felt emanating from Darcy.
Darcy nodded but only to gain time, not that he was curious. That storm of information and actions that could not be stopped frightened but also angered Darcy, who felt carried off by heavy winds to a destination he could not control. He was the son of George Darcy, the master of Pemberley. These words werelike the verse of a prayer, a chant meant to protect the one who repeated them.
∞∞∞
“I lived in Hanover for five years, the most wretched years of my life. All I did for days, weeks, and months was hunt. I left the Electorate of Brunswick-Lüneburg with no game…” The duke laughed, hoping to obtain a smile from Darcy, but as nothing appeared, he continued. “I was taken to Hanover like a prisoner, a heavy guard around me—men in my father’s service. I received a letter from him that Anne was married, and from then on, nothing mattered anymore.”
“Do you know when they married?” asked Darcy, suddenly interested.
“I received the letter from my father a few days after I arrived at Hilda’s castle, perhaps a month or so after our marriage.”
Darcy was stunned by the short period they needed to marry his mother. He did not know for sure who ‘they’ were; perhaps the old duke and his mother’s father but also someone from his father’s family, his paternal grandfather. He could not imagine that his father was involved in any way in obliging Anne Fitzwilliam to marry him. Yet he could easily see the late duke and his two grandfathers deciding on such an extraordinary matter as if it were reasonable or straightforward. Not his father—he loved Pemberley and his life in the country. He was not at all fond of London or the ton. Perhaps he loved Anne, and this was an excellent opportunity to marry her. He referred to his mother with a kind of detachment. He passionately wanted not to soil his images of her and loathed that the duke had started all this madness.
In the end, he had to admit it was not the duke; his mother wanted the truth to be known. Did she wish for her son to become Duke of Blandford? Did she have that aspiration for him, or did she simply want the duke to know he had another son? That question would remain forever unanswered.
“Why did my mother do all this?” Darcy asked in desperation.
“She had to tell me the truth about you; she could not take such a secret to her grave. It was my secret as much as hers! I shall be forever grateful…but what she wanted to achieve with her revelations…that will remain unknown.”
“But her letter? Yesterday’s letter?” Darcy asked.
“There was nothing else in that letter except the revelation about you and the registry page—nothing else. You may read the letter whenever you want.”
“No!” Darcy said. “I shall not read any more letters; I shall avoid letters entirely for a while!” It was the first time he smiled, but the duke took it as an excellent sign.
“Sir,” Darcy said, more composed, “I need time.”
“I understand. But, now you know to what extent I am ready to go.”
Undoubtedly, the duke appeared ready to annul his marriage with Hilda of Hanover and deprive their eldest son of his title and fortune. Darcy admired him, but he also feared such a powerful man who could ruin so many lives for a woman he met for two months thirty years ago…and for her son, who considered Mr Darcy his father no matter what his blood said. For the first time, he honestly looked at the duke and tried to accept and then understand that he was the son of this man!
It is only blood; he kept repeating it in his head, but he said nothing.
“Please say something,” pleaded the duke.
“Sir, let us move to the dining room. I am certain you have not eaten since last night.”
“Since yesterday morning, my son; I could not eat last evening, and I departed at dawn this morning. Yes, I could eat now, and I want to meet your family.”
“Lady Edwina is here too.”
“Dear Edwina—I am glad she can be with you now.”
“Elizabeth knows the truth about me…us,” Darcy said as they left the library.
“You told her? Good for you, my son!”
“I did not tell her, sir. She guessed the truth when she saw me next to your portrait.”
He feared the duke was not pleased, but in fact, the gentleman showed the opposite: happiness and jubilation, as though rejoicing in a grand success. William Fitzroy, Duke of Blandford, wanted the entire world to know he had a son with his Anne.
Chapter 21
Proudly, he took Darcy by his shoulders when they entered the dining room, and anybody who did not know the secret discovered it in the blink of an eye. It was so evident that Elizabeth and Edwina, at the same time, began to smile while Georgiana stopped talking, lost in disbelief. Elizabeth would have wanted Jane to be with her, but she left as she did every morning with Bingley, unaware of the dramatic events around her.
