Page 126 of Colour My World
She turned to Kitty and Lydia. “I have never been prouder of you.” She was pleased to see them blush.
At the foot of the stairs, Mr and Mrs Bennet waited. Hill, arms full of carefully stacked boxes, stood beside them.
Mr Bennet took the first, a velvet case, and opened it. Inside was a sapphire pendant—deep as twilight.
Mrs Bennet fastened it about Jane’s neck. “Your eyes eclipse these, dearest Jane.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
The second box contained a garnet-encrusted cross.
“You are a prayer come to life, my Lizzy.” She kissed Mr Bennet’s cheek.
The third box held pearls—simple, clean, beautifully kept. “They were your grandmother Mary Elizabeth Bennet’s most cherished possession. None but you may do them justice.”
Mary placed her hand atop her mother’s.
Jane stood luminous. Elizabeth watchful. Mary steady.Beauty, reason, and virtue. Proof that miracles come in threes.
Mr and Mrs Bennet were quite fixed upon each other, until Mrs Ecclestone tapped his shoulder with her fan. “Behave yourself, sir.”
Mr Bennet sighed. “And the evening has scarce begun.”
Off they went. She smiled. “My, my, Catty Fitzwilliam. How ill you have calculated.”
* * *
Lady Catherine’s carriage—roomy, but not enough for ease—lurched forward. With five within, knees brushed, hands grazed skirts, and slippered feet shifted for space. Lanterns flickered against the glass. Jane and Mary examined their reflections.
Elizabeth looked through the carriage window, unseeing. Her thoughts had fixed upon one subject, one man, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. She reviewed every conversation with him, each glance, every unspoken challenge that had passed between them.
He was insufferable.She stared at the passing darkness beyond the window.
He was arrogant, ill-mannered. Her fingers tightened upon her skirts.
He left the assembly. He saw me and ran. The entire town saw it.
Her father made a noise—half cough, half laugh. When she focused upon him, he lifted his brows. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. She would not give him the satisfaction and returned to her arguments.
He is not repulsed now.She frowned.
He defended me.She shifted against the seat.
He admitted he admires me.Her hands curled into her lap.
Admire?She looked out the window again.
That is not the word.A huff of breath.Then what is?
Her father waggled his brows again. Elizabeth stared at him, then looked away.
Mr Darcy’s aire is rose.
The carriage hit a rut in the road, knocking her shoulder against Jane’s. Her sister adopted that same knowing smile. Elizabeth refused to acknowledge it.
He does not dance. He does not smile.Except…Her eyes closed briefly.Except with me.
Her father shook his head again, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He tsked under his breath.
