Page 92 of Colour My World
Bennet leant forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Excellent. Because I have a question, and you must answer it plainly.”
“Papa, do not—”
“Mr Darcy,” Bennet said, his tone heavy with amusement, “do you admiremy Elizabeth?”
Darcy went utterly still. Elizabeth closed her eyes as if in pain. The room itself seemed to hold its breath. Bennet folded his hands, not bothering to conceal his enjoyment in the spectacle.
Darcy exhaled slowly and measured. “That is a rather direct question.”
Bennet smiled. “I find indirect ones tedious.”
Elizabeth looked ready to perish on the spot.
Bennet relished the silence.All the more to unearth the truth.He counted to himself.One, two, three. Darcy glanced at him.Six, seven, eight, nine.Darcy stared back at Elizabeth.Twelve,thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.Elizabeth, knuckles white against the chair, bowed her head.Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.Darcy continued to stare at her.Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven.Elizabeth loudly exhaled.Twenty-nine, thirty.Elizabeth looked up. Darcy inhaled with a sharp, short breath.
Bennet almost applauded.
* * *
“Yes.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath.
“How shocking. Lizzy, did you hear that? You are not as unremarkable as you believe.”
Darcy saw the flush creep up her neck.
“I never said—”
“I recall it was ‘insult, ignore, stare, and defend,’ yes? Were those not your grievances?”
Is that indeed how she views me?
Elizabeth’s eyes burned into him. “Why did you defend me, Mr Darcy?”
He had been prepared for many things. Not for that. He met her gaze, steady, unwavering. “Because I wished to.”
Darcy had the strangest urge to close the distance between them. He rose.
Bennet, lounging in his chair like a spectator at a play, looked between them with frank amusement.
“Now, you see, Lizzy,” her father drawled, “thatis precisely what I hoped you would hear.”
Elizabeth spun towards him. “Papa!” Her breathing quickened; her chest rose and fell in shallow, measured movements.
Bennet stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “I shall leave you two to sort things out. Take your time. Or do not.It matters little to me.”
Elizabeth glared at her father. Darcy forced himself remain still.
Then Bennet turned to him and rendered a satisfied smile. “Oh, and Darcy? Do not hesitate. In delay, there lies no plenty.” He strode to the door and stepped through. The click of the latch echoed through the library.
He and Elizabeth were alone.
Darcy’s pulse thundered in his ears.I admire her. I confessed it.
The thought hit hard. He had gone to the ring with steadier nerves. His voice, when he found it, was lower than he intended. “Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr Darcy.”
