Page 118 of Colour My World
Chapter 42
Longbourn, that same evening…
The rain beat against the windows of Longbourn, a steady rhythm that matched Elizabeth’s tapping fingers against her skirts. Restlessness had plagued her all afternoon, driving her from room to room, unable to settle.
Jane moved through the house in quiet satisfaction, herairetinged with gold.As if she has already won.
Their mother had been no help, giddy from some private amusement with Mrs Ecclestone. Her father observed it all with barely concealed mirth.
She had been made a fool of, and they knew it well. She had been jealous. She had followed Jane all about the house, attempting to pry details of her conversation with Mr Darcy. And for what? Jane had been as sly as a fox, dodging questions and answering with only the highest praise of the gentleman.
Elizabeth had never been so vexed. She stormed into her father’s study to find him awaiting her, the chessboard set in readiness.
Mr Bennet gestured to the seat across from him. “Come, Lizzy. Let us see how poorly you play this evening.”
Elizabeth huffed but sat. “I am not in the mood for games.”
“Then it is fortunate this is no mere game.” He moved his pawn. Hisairewas a homogenous tan.
Elizabeth studied the board—a calculated invitation. She moved her knight in response.
“Ah. Bold and direct.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Is that not preferable to hesitating?”
“Not always. Sometimes, patience wins the war.”
She scoffed. “You caution me? That is rich.”
“I do not advise caution in life, my dear.” He moved a bishop. “I advise it in chess.”
Elizabeth felt his eyes on her.
“Something troubles you?”
She refused to take the bait and moved another piece. “You misinterpret my mood.”
“Do I?”
His next move was aggressive. She barely registered it.
Her thoughts were elsewhere—outside, where Mr Darcy had walked beside Jane, speaking—speaking—as if they had an understanding.
Her hand moved before her thoughts caught up. Reckless. Unorganised. Just like her mood. Her father made a tsking sound. “Not like you at all.”
Elizabeth scowled. “It was a sound move.”
“Was it?”
She stared at the board. The rain continued its rhythmic drumming outside. The fire in the hearth crackled, warm against the growing chill. They played in silence for several moves.
Jane had been so composed, so very at ease with him. And Mr Darcy—her Mr Darcy—had been listening. Not just politely but intently listening.
Had he ever spoken with Elizabeth that way? Her fingers hovered over a rook.
“I do hope you are not distracted, my dear.”
Elizabeth frowned and moved her piece. “I am perfectly focused.”
