Page 28 of Colour My World
He grinned, then faltered as his mother followed him out, a frown darkening her face.
“And where did you get that, young man?” Mrs Taylor asked sharply, pointing at the top.
Johnny clutched it tighter. “In the shed, Mama,” he said, his voice pitched a little too high. Something bright flickered around him: sharp and gold, like a spark blown from a fire.
Mrs Taylor set her hands on her hips. “The shed, was it? And not from your brother’s things where you have no business poking?”
Johnny stared at his toes and mumbled something Elizabeth could not hear. The spinning top slipped from his fingers. He edged towards the doorway, leaving the toy forgotten behind him.
At Elizabeth’s feet, a rosy little girl, no more than eighteen months, staggered forward, arms lifted. Elizabeth bent and gathered her up, pressing the child close against the cold. The little one’s warmth settled against her like a heartbeat, no colours, nothing but living weight.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Peace.
* * *
The next day, Jane accompanied Elizabeth for an hour’s walk in the garden. Elizabeth found her strength increasing each day. Her thoughts, so cluttered in recent weeks, had quieted.
Jane’s presence had always had that effect.
Kitty and Lydia had darted ahead of them, lost in some whim, their laughter trailing. Elizabeth did not need to see them to know their colours flailed about. Restless ribbons twisting and tangling.
Jane, in contrast, was constant.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply and savoured the scent of fresh greenery. She turned to Jane and—
Tiny flecks of gold and red hovered. Shifting, like ash lifted by a breeze.
Ladybirds? At this hour?She brushed at the air above Jane’shead. Her hand passed through them. They remained small and delicate, pulsing in the sparks of sunlight.They are not truly there.
Elizabeth looked closer.
Jane’s serenity seemed stressed; her eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed tight.
What did it mean? Elizabeth waved about the space where they danced.
“Lizzy?”
Jane’s voice startled her out of her reverie.
“I—” Would Jane laugh? Would she think she was mad?
“What is it.? What do you see?”
Elizabeth forced a breathless laugh. “Nothing.” But it was not nothing.
The golden motes, a faint halo of light, whirled around Jane’s head. Elizabeth had no idea what it meant.
Chapter 9
A soft groan broke the quiet of the room. Elizabeth blinked against the dim morning light that crept between the curtains. Beside her, Jane shifted, curling inward, one hand pressed to her stomach. “Lizzy.”
She noted the tight set of her brow, the way she clutched the sheets. And then—the telltale dampness between them.
“Jane.” They had shared a room long enough for Elizabeth to recognise the signs. Jane’s lips pressed into a line.
Elizabeth threw back the covers and tugged a wrap over her nightgown. “I shall fetch Mrs Hill.”
Jane grasped her wrist. “No. Do not make a fuss.”
