Page 67 of Colour My World
She glanced back at the book in her hands. “I had not expected to see you in Meryton.”
“I had matters to attend to.” His reply sounded too stiff. He tried again. “You appear to have found something of interest.”
She smoothed a hand over the cover ofOssian. “My father owns a copy, but it is well-thumbed. I wished for a newer edition.”
“You speak of your father’s library with great admiration.”
Her eyes sparkled, and the emerald one caught the light. Darcy blinked.
“It is one of his greatest treasures. I suspect, were he permitted to take only one room from Longbourn, it would be the library.”
Darcy allowed himself a small smile. “That is a sentiment I understand.”
She blinked at him as though surprised by the admission.
“My father claims his books are excellent companions.”
“I agree with that sentiment.” He pressed his lips together. “I find books do not flatter, nor do they interrupt.”
Her brow arched. “And what of conversation?” she asked at last.
Something in her tone had softened. Or perhaps he had imagined it. “It depends upon the company.”
Her lips parted slightly, caught between curiosity and disbelief.
“I meant no slight.”
“Indeed? Then I must be more apt to misjudge you than I realised.”
“Yes, you seem to take pleasure in wilful misunderstanding,” he said.
She covered her mouth and gasped—or laughed—he could not discern which. But he did spot the upward curve of her lips behind her hand.
Fortune favours the bold, according to Richard.
“Miss Elizabeth, might I enquire, would your father be at home, were I to call?”
* * *
Elizabeth tightened her grip on the book. Surely, she hadmisheard him.
“M-my father?”
“Yes.”
Her thoughts scattered. Mr Darcy, speaking with her father? Impossible. Absurd. But what else could it be? Had he come to warn her father against Mr Bingley? Against Jane?
Did he not see how Jane holds Mr Bingley in higher esteem than he does her?
Her lips parted, then closed. She counted to five. “He is often at home during calling hours.”
“Then I shall send my card.” He bowed low and turned away, leaving Elizabeth alone among the shelves.
Her heart pounded with a certainty she could not name.
* * *
The Road to Longbourn, October 1811
