Page 13 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“Have you a favourite passage?”

Miss Macomber considered this question with visible caution. “I do not know, sir. Mamma, what was the passage you admired?”

“The death of the stag in the first canto,” said Lady Macomber promptly.

“The death of the stag in the first canto,” Miss Macomber repeated dutifully. After a pause, she added, “It was very fine.”

Behind her, Richard tipped his head at the candelabrum sitting on the mantle and raised his eyebrows.

Darcy ignored him and bowed slightly to Miss Macomber. Under the circumstances, perhaps silence would be safest.

His mother, who had heard the whole, came across to ask Miss Macomber whether she would oblige them with a song. Miss Macomber said that she would, if it pleased her mamma. Her mamma said that of course it would please her, and so Miss Macomber sang a fashionable Italian air with no errors but also no expression. Everyone applauded when she was done.

And then, thank heavens, it was late enough to send everyone home.

The Macombers departed at half past ten with all the proper civilities. Miss Macomber thanked his mother for a delightful evening, then looked to her own mother, who gave a small approving nod.

The Hursts followed soon after.

Darcy’s uncle pulled on his winter gloves. “That was not a very promising beginning. It appears it will be a long winter, Nephew.”

“So I am beginning to understand.”

Richard looked offended. “I thought my performance was excellent.”

“You told a story where you proposed to the cook,” Milton said.

“And in which she refused me.” He set his hat on his head. “I fail to see how Darcy’s evening was any more successful.”

Lord Matlock’s gaze was on something behind the three of them. He grunted sympathetically and turned towards his sons. “My consolations, Milton. Richard. Darcy.”

“Richard.”

Richard froze. Darcy’s mother drew breath, but he spoke first.

“Mother, I believe he has suffered sufficiently.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “We will talk, Fitzwilliam.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She frowned at them all and swept up the stairs.

When she was safely beyond hearing, Darcy said quietly, “You should remember that it is to all your advantage that my mother not succeed with me. For as long as I remain her principal object, you lot are comparatively safe.”

There was a brief pause in which all three gentlemen appeared, for the first time, to contemplate what his mother might do with her energies once he was successfully settled.

Milton said, “Good God.”

Richard looked faintly appalled.

Lord Matlock sighed. “We shall lose at least one of you by Easter.”

“Or you, sir,” Darcy said drily. “For you are a highly eligible widower.”

Lord Matlock looked suddenly thoughtful. “You make an alarming point. Come, boys, let us not linger.”

The Fitzwilliams disappeared into the night.