Page 56 of Colour My World
“Indeed.”
* * *
That afternoon, the household settled into the quiet anticipation of a guest. Or rather, most did—Kitty and Lydia darted between the drawing room and the front window, skirts rustling as they shifted to catch sight of an arriving caller. Their aires flickered erratically.
“Ladies, compose yourselves. Restlessness is neither dignified nor becoming.” Mrs Ecclestone’sairedeepened to a sharperhue.
Kitty and Lydia, with contrite looks on their faces, obediently stepped back from the window. Their aires shimmered.
Elizabeth looked to Jane seated beside her on the settee.
“I cannot fault their eagerness,” Jane said. Herairepulsed faintly.
“Nor can I.” She turned to Mary, who had chosen a quiet corner to studyThe Imitation of Christ.
A sudden intake of breath from Kitty drew attention back to the window.
“He comes!”
A hatted man approached at an unhurried pace, his horse’s chestnut coat glinting beneath the afternoon light, shifting between russet and gold.
“He appears rather handsome.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes.Oh, Kitty!
Mrs Ecclestone cleared her throat. “Such comments are unbecoming.” She rose to her full height. “Ladies.” She gestured towards the door.
Kitty and Lydia wilted. They curtsied and followed Mrs Ecclestone, their aires retreating into subdued gold.
As the room quieted, Jane turned to Elizabeth. “He dresses with taste, I think.”
Mary smiled atop Thomas à Kempis’s work. “Does piety include noticing a gentleman’s jacket? Or is vanity allowed on such occasions?”
Jane’s cheeks coloured. “A touch of admiration harms no one.”
* * *
Hill entered the room with a card on a silver salver. “Mr Bingley is at the door, sir.”
Elizabeth glanced up fromCeciliaas her father took it and rubbed it between his fingers. “Excellent stock, fine ink—Gardiner’s custom, no doubt.”
“A discerning man, then,” Mrs Bennet replied.
He arched a brow. “As am I?”
“As are you, Mr Bennet.”
He gave a nod to Hill. “Show him in.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She failed. Happily.
Hill announced their guest. “Mr Bingley.”
Elizabeth watched as Mr Bingley entered, bowing first to Mrs Bennet.
He did not merely incline his head; he smiled. His hand brushed the edge of his waistcoat.
Hisairewas a pale blue.Respect. Nerves, perhaps.
