Page 33 of Colour My World
Mrs Hill took Elizabeth’s arm. “Let’s get you some rest, Miss Lizzy. This was too much excitement for one still on the mend.”
A flicker of brown brushed her vision. She turned, certain she would find her father in the doorway.
No one was there.
* * *
That night, she lit a candle. The mirror stood atop her dressing table. Her own mismatched eyes stared back. No colour framed her reflection. No halo, no flicker. Nothing.
She pressed her fingertips to the glass. A smudge bloomed. Her breath clouded the surface. But no light answered.
That afternoon, she had watched Mary cross the garden path—silver, smooth, unwavering.
Jane’s white shone soft. Papa’s tan held fast. Kitty flickered. Lydia coloured the truth.
She had made a trial of it more than once. The results were always the same. Everyone’sairerevealed something. But her own…
If I look hard enough, if I wait long enough, will my aire appear?
The mirror gave no answer. She looked again.There was no light about her.
“I have no colour.”
* * *
The following four weeks challenged her patience.
The drawing room hummed with her mother’s delight. Mrs Long and Mrs Goulding perched on their chairs, fans waving, voices pitched in eager whispers.
“Mrs Harding swore she saw Miss Pope alone in the lane with young Mr Simmons,” her mother said. “Of course, she will deny it, but I know better. Such a thing could not be mistaken!”
“Indeed not,” Mrs Long replied. “And Mr Simmons, with his prospects, would do far better than to be trapped by such a girl.”
Mrs Goulding tutted. “Oh, he shall be made to do right by her,or her father will see him ruined.”
Their aires darkened and pulsed. Shadows flickered about their faces as they wove their tales, not outright deception, but something more insidious. Delight, not truth, nourished their tongues.
Elizabeth turned away, disgust roiling within her.
That evening, her bedroom door ajar, shrill cries rang out across the hall. “It is mine, you horrid cheat!”
“You speak false! I found it first!”
Elizabeth followed Jane to find Kitty and Lydia wrestling over a ribbon. Each gripped an end as though it would vanish. The silk twisted between them, crumpled from the struggle.
Jane ended the matter. “The ribbon is mine.”
Their aires, darkened by their deception, betrayed them. Their faces fell in a perfect mirror of guilt.
Even within Longbourn, falsehood crept into every corner.
* * *
On Sunday, she sat in the church pew, hands clasped, spine straight. Flanked by Jane and Mary, she closed her eyes and took comfort in the air of honesty. The sermon droned on, a familiar lull until the announcement.
“The banns of marriage are published between Mr Samuel Hart and Miss Rebecca Ingram. If any know cause or just impediment—”
The pastor’sairegrew. A shadow crept around his head, deepening with every word, as though the weight of them pressed upon his shoulders.
