Page 66 of The Slipper Scandal
"You are like the daughter Mother never had," Fitzwilliam told his brother.
"Oh, really?" Milton's eyes glinted dangerously. "Shall we discuss the time in Paris during Amiens, when you—"
"Boys," Lord Matlock said firmly. "We are devising strategy to resolve Darcy's problem, not conversing about ancient history." His eyes lit up. “We might tell Miss Bennet all about your philanthropic endeavours.”
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache beginning to form. "I do not need my family singing my praises like some Greek chorus."
"Do you not?" Milton asked blithely. "Think about it, Darcy. Miss Bennet fears that your admiration will fade with time, that familiarity will breed contempt. Who better to refute that notion than the people who have known you all your life and still find you somewhat tolerable?"
"Darcy is not a man to give his heart and then take it back," mused the earl. "The Darcy men are notoriously constant. Once committed, they remain so for life. Your grandfather was, and your father never so much as looked at another woman after he won your mother. Not once."
Darcy nodded, touched by this reminder of his father's devotion. He had never remarried. "Miss Bennet does not know that, however."
"Then we must show her," Lady Matlock declared. "Not through grand gestures, perhaps, but through consistent proofs of your character."
“What are you suggesting?" Darcy asked warily.
"Nothing dramatic," Fitzwilliam assured him.
Milton slumped in his chair, and Darcy thought the man might actually be pouting.
Fitzwilliam kept speaking. "Simply that we might help Miss Bennet understand the man you truly are. The man beneath the reserve."
Milton lifted his wineglass in a toast no one joined. "A coordinated campaign to capture the lady's confidence!" he announced, lifting a finger in the air. He took a sip. “I do so enjoy alliteration.”
"Not bad," Fitzwilliam conceded. "Though lacking in subtlety."
"Subtlety is overrated," Milton said dismissively.
“Your entire character in three words,” Darcy grumbled.
"What we shall need is a series of wisely orchestrated encounters," Lady Matlock replied, ignoring Darcy and warming to her son's theme.
"People who can casually mention your many fine qualities," Fitzwilliam said with a nod.
"And your steadfast nature," the earl added.
"And your secret passion," Milton finished with a wink.
"I do not have a 'secret passion,'" Darcy protested.
All four Fitzwilliams regarded him with identical expressions of disbelief.
Darcy sighed. “Even if I had apassion, nothing could ever be a secret around the four of you.”
“True,” his uncle agreed. “No reason even to try.”
Aunt Matlock finished her wine and set the glass down with regal precision. “Darcy, you are clearly of no use to us at present.”
Darcy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
She waved a hand airily. “You may go home.”
Fitzwilliam leaned in with a grin. “She means you are dismissed.”
“Like a footman with a poor attitude,” Milton added helpfully.
Darcy rose, dignity intact despite the familial assault. “I shall take my leave then, since I am so clearly unwanted.”
