“Thank you, Boodles,” Dawson added. “I shall guard the left flank. Should Lady Catherine awaken and demand her midnight gruel, I have a diversionary tray of stale scones ready to deploy in the corridor.”
“You are both heroes of the realm,” Robert declared, moving to the centre of the room. He turned to face his family, officially taking command of the mission.
“Right.” He pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and gestured to a large, blank slate normally used for tallying estate logs. “Operation: Salvage Fitzwilliam’s Dignity is now commenced. The objective is twofold. First, we must assess the damage inflicted by the deployment of the ‘Manifesto of Doom’.”
“Please stop calling it that,” Darcy groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“I call it as I see it, Cousin,” Robert replied. “Second, we must execute a coordinated campaign to prove to Miss Elizabeth Bennet that you are not, in fact, an unhinged lunaticwho belongs in an asylum, but rather a gentleman of feeling who suffered a minor, isolated emotional break.”
“I did not suffer a break,” Darcy argued weakly.
“You wrote that she is the warden of your prison, Fitzwilliam,” Richard pointed out from the sofa. “If that is not a break, I shudder to think what your actual madness looks like. Will you be writing sonnets to the chickens?”
“Enough,” Robert barked, rapping his knuckles against the slate. “We must gather our forces. I have devised the assignments. Because there is hope. During our visit, I purposefully pressed Miss Elizabeth with the mention of letters. She met me head-on. Congratulations, Cousin, she is an excellent parrying opponent—but she did not betray your confidence. I am fairly certain that whatever secrets you spewed are safe with her. However, we still need to be cautious.”
He pointed the chalk at Anne. “Annie, my sweet, ruthless cousin. I am assigning you the most delicate task of the operation. You are to befriend Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Befriend her? I have spent the last twenty-four years avoiding human interaction. What makes you think I know how to be a friend?”
“Because you are observant, and you possess a shared appreciation for the absurd,” Robert explained. “Your proximity will allow you to offer subtle emotional support to our quarry.”
“Quarry?” Darcy growled. “She is not a quarry; she is a lady. I cannot stress this enough!”
“She is holding the weapon of your destruction, Darcy—keep up,” Robert dismissed him. “Anne, your true mission is to gather intelligence. We need to know what shethinks of the letter. Did she laugh? Did she cry? Is she planning to frame it and hang it in the Meryton assembly rooms? We. Need. Facts.”
“I can do that.” Anne nodded, a wicked gleam entering her eyes. “I shall find a way. I will complain about my mother’s oppressive regimen. To my knowledge, nothing bonds women faster than mutual grievances against their mothers.”
“Brilliant.” Robert praised her and pointed the chalk at the sofa. “Richard.”
“Reporting for duty.” The colonel saluted lazily.
“You are deployed to charm Mrs Charlotte Collins.”
Richard’s salute faltered. He dropped his hand, offended. “Why do I always get the sensible married ones? I am a decorated officer of His Majesty’s army! I should be at the vanguard of the romance!”
“You get the sensible married one because you are the only one among us with an attention span long enough to survive a conversation about domesticity,” Robert countered. “Mrs Collins is Miss Elizabeth’s closest confidante. If Mrs Collins likes you, she will look favourably upon our entire camp. You are the diplomatic envoy. Flatter her needlework. Admire the turn of her staircase. Endure Mr Collins if you must.”
“If I must endure Mr Collins for more than ten minutes, I demand a medal and a significant increase in my brandy allowance,” Richard grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Granted,” Robert said without hesitation.
Finally, the viscount turned to face the master of Pemberley. The amusement faded from Robert’s eyes, replaced by intense focus.
“And now, for you, Fitzwilliam,” he said. “I pledge to strip away your rigid pride, demolish your fortifications, and teach you how to behave like a normal, functional gentleman in love.”
Darcy drew up, his spine snapping straight. “I know how to behave like a gentleman.”
“You know how to behave like an emperor,” Robert corrected coldly. “You stand in corners, you scowl at the wallpaper, you refuse to dance because the company is ‘beneath’ you. And when you finally decide you have feelings for a woman, you deliver a proposal similar to an eviction notice, followed by an accidental letter that reads as a ransom demand!”
Darcy flinched. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but the truth of Robert’s words choked him. He looked down at his boots.
“You are right,” he whispered, the admission tasting like ash. “I have botched it. I do not know how to fix it.”
“That is why I am here.” Robert’s voice lost its mocking edge, turning genuinely supportive. “You love her. The entire room knows it. The paper mill that supplied your paper knows it, but you cannot throw your heart at her feet and expect her to trip over it gratefully. You must woo her, Darcy. You must converse with her without sounding like a magistrate. You must smile.”
“I smile,” Darcy protested.
“A grimace is not a smile,” Dawson noted from the doorway. “If I may be so bold, sir, your smile often resembles a man preparing to execute a traitor.”
