Page 59 of The Slipper Scandal
"By showing her glimpses of what life with you might truly be like. Not the cold, distant future she imagines based on her parents' example, but one filled with understanding, respect, and yes, passion." Fitzwilliam's eyes gleamed.
"If you are about to suggest singing beneath her window, I may be forced to throw you out into the rain," Darcy warned.
“No, that is Milton’s style, not yours.”
He wanted to think on it, so he took the opportunity to change the subject. “Is your brother back in town?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Excellent timing.”
Darcy shook his head. “I do not require any help from Milton.”
Fitzwilliam shrugged inelegantly. “Very well.” He returned to the subject of Darcy’s woes. “What Miss Bennet needs is not persuasion but revelation. She needs to see the parts of yourself that you keep hidden from the world. Not because you are ashamed of them, but because you do the right thing without wishing to be applauded for it. And because you have never found anyone worthy of that kind of trust." He paused, giving his words time to sink in. "Until now."
"Your advice is that I bare my soul to her?" Darcy asked, hoping that the horror he felt at the idea was not apparent.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Fitzwilliam confirmed. "Though perhaps less dramatically than that phrase suggests."
Darcy fell silent, considering his cousin's words. There was wisdom in them. Elizabeth had glimpsed the man beneath his public persona and had seemed intrigued by what she saw, but her fears held her back. If he could show her more of himself, perhaps she might come to believe that the regard he felt for her was true, that it would not fade with time. He was, by nature and education, a reserved man. But there seemed to be no other way.
And Elizabeth was worth it.
"I am to visit her tomorrow. Perhaps I might invite Miss Bennet and the Abernathys to the opera in the evening," he said at last. "The Peasant Boyis playing at the Lyceum."
"Well, I wish you luck with it," Fitzwilliam said, a hint of wistfulness creeping into his voice. "Though I confess, I had hoped to attend the opera myself. Notbymyself, but . . ."
"I am sorry, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said, genuine sympathy in his voice. "Despite what Abernathy believes, you would have made Miss Abernathy a good husband."
"Perhaps," Fitzwilliam acknowledged with a small smile. "Though likely not as good as you will make Miss Bennet, once you convince her to trust you."
Darcy's expression sobered. "IfI can convince her."
"You will," Fitzwilliam said with unexpected certainty. "Because for all your vaunted rationality, you have finally committed your heart. Miss Bennet may not yet understand that, but she will. You need only find the courage to let her see it."
Darcy studied his cousin with newfound appreciation. For all his teasing and irreverence, Richard possessed a depth of insight that had caught him by surprise.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Fitzwilliam raised his glass in a small salute. "What are cousins for, if not to provide unwanted romantic advice when one is at one's lowest ebb?"
Darcy wished he could provide the same service for Fitzwilliam. "Indeed."
"So," Fitzwilliam said, settling back in his chair, "this excursion. It is a start, but hardly sufficient on its own. What else have you planned to woo your reluctant bride?"
"I had thought to invite her to Lady Spencer’s musical evening next week," Darcy said.
“That is good, but a play and a concert is hardly enough. You must see her every day, Darcy. Miss Abernathy mentioned the imminent arrival of Mrs. Bennet, so you do not have an abundance of time. And, as you are conveniently engaged, it will not create any talk.”
Darcy pursed his lips.
“Anyadditionaltalk, then.” Fitzwilliam finished his drink and set the glass down. “Truly, Darcy, the scandal has been muted a good deal by your offer and Ellington’s disgrace. There will always be some talk, but the families that know you best have already dismissed it. The only way to truly reignite it would be—”
“If Miss Bennet withdraws.”
“So it is Miss Bennet again?”
“She has not given me permission to use her Christian name. I will wait until she does.”
“Good man,” Fitzwilliam said, and stood. “I am off.”
