Page 86 of Colour My World
Theairearound him seemed to darken. She drew a small breath, as though something soft lingered in the air—faintly sweet, familiar. Unmistakable—or so it felt.
And Mr Darcy had not looked away from her once. It was not admiration, was it? She did not know what to make of it. But she needed to leave. “If you will excuse me, I must return to my sister.”
Bingley nodded. “Of course. A tray will be sent to your room shortly, and I shall speak to the housekeeper about your things.”
Elizabeth’s heart hammered against her ribs as she turned on her heel and strode towards the staircase. She did not need to look back to know Mr Darcy’s gaze followed her. She felt it. And still…
She turned. The air about Mr Darcy was tea rose and damask, wild briar and wine. Layered shades of rose surrounded him.
Once in Jane’s bedchamber, Elizabeth closed the door behind her, hoping Jane was asleep. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, more for distraction than necessity.
But Jane was awake, propped up on several pillows, watching her with a sharp-eyed intensity that Elizabeth knew too well. “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”
“If only spirits were so straightforward,” Elizabeth murmured. She sank into the chair beside the bed. “You will be pleased to know your Mr Bingley is quite put out on your behalf.”
Jane said nothing.
Elizabeth glanced at her. “What is it?”
Jane hesitated as if weighing her words. Finally, she said, “What happened? You are flushed and agitated. What was said?”
What had been said? It had all happened so quickly: Mr Bingley’s apologies, Miss Bingley’s brittle civility, the forced decorum. And then… Mr Darcy. She felt the moment as keenly as if it had just occurred. The deep timbre of his voice. The quiet certainty of his words.“Miss Elizabeth Bennet possesses more wit than any woman in the first circle.”
“Miss Bingley had the effrontery to insult our family in a private conversation that I had the misfortune to overhear,” she said. “She was most put out that I arrived at Netherfield looking like a drowned cat.”
“I cannot imagine you let that pass unchallenged.”
“I did not.”
“And?” Jane looked irritated.
“And what?”
“You are being wilfully evasive. Something else happened. Lizzy, for heaven’s sake—I have no strength for your artful deflections.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “I am not—”
“Tell me,” Jane pressed. “What happened that has unnerved you so?”
“I told you. Miss Bingley was her usual insufferable self.”
“And?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Mr Darcy defended me.”
Jane’s expression changed. Elizabeth did not know what she had expected, but it certainly was not that exasperated look. “Oh, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “If you have something to say, say it plainly.”
Jane exhaled and rolled her eyes. “You know what it means.”
Elizabeth drew back. “You did not just roll your eyes at me.”
“Even Lydia—Lydia—sees it! Why do you refuse to?”
Lydia had taken Mr Darcy to task at dinner.“So very handsome,” she had said. “Or, more likely, because he insulted you in front of the entire town.”
Jane threw up her hands. “His regard for you. Mr Darcy cares for you.”
