Page 31 of Colour My World
“These clouds you see, they are a form of insight, like the ‘sweete breeth’of inspiration.”
Elizabeth rested her chin upon her fisted hands. “Then let us name them properly.”
Charlotte pushed out her bottom lip. “Aire. You see a person’s aire.” She pronounced the word with a hard‘e’at the end.
Elizabeth tested the word. “Aire.” She looked at her friend. The edges of herairepulsed darker.
“What do you see?”
Elizabeth smirked. “That you are quite enamoured with yourself.”
Charlotte laughed. “I daresay I am.” She reached over and grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “You are blessed to see people truly whether they wish you to. Or not.”
Elizabeth considered that. “You believe this is intuition?”
“A physical manifestation of it, yes.”
Elizabeth let that settle. Not madness. Not imagination. Something she had always possessed, only now, she could see it. “Do not speak of this to anyone else.”
“Why ever not?”
“People fear what they do not understand. What do you think your mother would say if she knew?” Elizabeth thought of the orange flames that flared around her mother’s outbursts, the way her emotionshurt. “She would not believe me.”
Charlotte nodded.
“What do you propose I do?”
“Attend to what they show you. Do not dismiss them.”
“Aire.Aire,” Elizabeth repeated, the latter with a French accent.“Merci, mon amie.”
Charlotte dipped a curtsey.“Le plaisir fut tout à moi.”
Elizabeth smiled. The pleasure had indeed been mutual.
* * *
That evening, sitting in her window seat, Elizabeth turned towards the glass. Her reflection stared back. The same face. The eyes—one brown, one green—were changed. And through them, everything else had shifted.
Her father read a letter.His tan aire darkened in thought before he spoke.
Lydia preened before the mirror.Her gilded aire shimmered bright, then flickered into nothing.
Jane. And Mary. They remained steady. White and silver, respectively.
Earlier, in the withdrawing room, Kitty had leant tentatively towards Lydia. Lydia opened her mouth, mischief already gleaming in her eyes.
“Kitty,” Elizabeth said, “I do hope you are not planning to steal Lydia’s mirror. She might perish without it.”
Kitty blinked. A flush of colour touched her cheeks.
Lydia huffed, flipping a curl. “As if I should allow such treachery.”
“Then it is war, is it? At least make it a fair one.” Elizabeth held up two fingers. “Two pins apiece and no powder thrown.”
Kitty laughed, uncertain at first. The tension between them loosened; herairestilled.
Elizabeth noted the rapid flashes whenever her mother prepared to contradict herself. Small signs, but revealing. A person could sense the shifts in the wind before a storm. She would as well.
