Page 74 of Colour My World
“She took me to her special drawing room and sat with me. Held my hand. She said our family viewed marriage as duty, an obligation to continue the line. But she believed in something more.”
Hair like a Derbyshire autumn.
“She told me I would know.” His fingers curled into fists. “That she would be special.”
Bennet frowned. “Special?”
“A woman with brown hair, kissed by the autumn light. And fine eyes.”
A long silence.
Bennet repeated, “Fine…eyes.”
Darcy forced himself to nod. “Yes, sir. Fine eyes.”
“And what was your mother’s definition of fine eyes?”
“Eyes like hers but…more unique.”
“You said both your mother and sister have matching eyes.”
“Yes. Both have blue eyes, but one is ringed in gold.”
Bennet’s gaze did not waver. “But your mother’s prophecy was more specific, was it not?”
“It was.”
He watched as understanding dawned across Bennet’s face, slow at first, then sharp, like the tightening of a spring. Amusement faded, recognition set in and then stone. Bennet straightened his posture. Shoulders taut. His voice dropped to a cold baritone. “I would hear it from your lips.”
Darcy swallowed against the dryness in his throat.
“My mother made me promise to find my soulmate,” he said, voice barely above a breath. “A woman with eyes of—”
Bennet finished for him. “Differing colours.” Bennet’s gaze sharpened. He did not blink. “Did she name the colours?”
Darcy hesitated. “No… She said they might be different.Perhaps even different from one another.”
“And now you claim certainty?”
Darcy nodded. “Because I have seen them.”
Bennet straightened in his chair, his voice now hard as iron. “Say it.”
“Miss Elizabeth’s right eye is brown. Her left is green.”
“Rather exacting.”
Darcy touched his temple. “It is an image I shall never forget.”
A sharp knock at the door.
Bennet smoothed his expression into something unreadable. “Enter.”
Hill stepped inside. “Sir, the mistress inquires whether Mr Darcy will be staying to dine.”
Bennet’s regard slid back to Darcy.
His throat felt tight. The weight of the conversation pressed upon him. He hadnoappetite, yet something told him walking away now would be unwise. “If the invitation stands, I would be honoured.”
