Page 21 of Colour My World (The Bennet Sister Variations #3)

Mr Bennet rode with Mrs Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth in the carriage for the short ride to the assembly rooms. Mary had chosen to remain at home, preferring a quiet evening of duets with Mrs Ecclestone to the noise and bustle of an assembly.

Kitty and Lydia had remained home as well, still not out, though increasingly eager to be.

The absence of her father’s protest marked his interest more clearly than any declaration. Elizabeth appreciated his presence, a steady tan aire with familiar brown undertones.

“You both look lovely,” Mrs Bennet said. The sincerity in her voice matched the marigold glow that surrounded her.

Mr Bennet agreed. “Indeed. Many a head will turn. I may have to sharpen more than my wit.”

Mrs Bennet playfully slapped his arm. Elegant in soft blue, Jane sat beside Elizabeth in a pale green gown. The carriage stopped; their father handed them out. Several familiar faces were ahead of them.

Once inside the assembly hall, the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter mingled with the tentative strains of instruments tuning for the evening’s entertainment.

The expected colours hovered about the assembly-goers as they passed and conversed: warm yellows of excitement, occasional pulses of coral from the newly married or infatuated, and the cool greys of those attending out of obligation rather than delight.

It was, as one might expect, as regular in its course as the turning of the seasons.

Mr Bennet took his leave for the card room; Mrs Bennet, meanwhile, settled among the matrons’ circle. Elizabeth and Jane approached Miss Harriet Goulding and Miss Penelope Long.

“I heard Mr Bingley is to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen,” Miss Goulding said.

Miss Long shook her head. “No, you are mistaken. The housekeeper was overheard to say he brought only six, his five sisters and a cousin.”

Jane turned to Elizabeth. She shrugged. As far as she could see, Miss Goulding and Miss Long spoke their beliefs.

The assembly doors opened. “We shall now learn the truth,” Jane said. The Netherfield party had arrived: Mr Bingley, two ladies, and two gentlemen.

Mr Bingley led the way, his aire as cheerfully buoyant as the day before.

Beside him, two ladies of differing height, hair the same shade of auburn, glided into the room.

A small cloud of pale gold hovered over the shorter woman, dressed in a gown of crimson.

How very lovely to see such appreciation.

The taller wore dreadful orange silk, her aire stormy grey speckled with bright gold. She does not wish to be here.

Beside the shorter of the two ladies stood a gentleman whose most notable feature was a want of any distinction. He was suitably attired, composed in manner, and wholly unremarkable in feature. His aire, like Mary’s, was fixed and uniform. Elizabeth found herself inclined to like him.

Then another gentleman stepped forward, taller than the rest, dark-haired, and immaculately dressed. It was not his height that first caught her notice, nor his bearing, but the absence. He had no aire.

Elizabeth blinked as though her eyes deceived her.

People glowed, faint and bright, warm or cool, each hue a whisper of inner truth. But around this man, there was nothing. She looked again.

A perfectly tailored coat. A patrician face with a suitably aquiline nose. His expression, unreadable. His posture, stiff with self-command. He was very handsome. But the void—

“What do you make of the tall gentleman, Lizzy?” Jane’s soft voice brought her back to the present.

“I hardly know what to say. I cannot recall ever seeing a person of such…paradox.”

Jane looked puzzled. “Do you mean his manner?”

She could make neither head nor tail of him. Or his lack of an aire. “Yes, his manner.”

Their conversation ended as Mr Bingley approached, an open smile lighting his face. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing with cheerful precision. Jane responded with a curtsey; Elizabeth inclined her head. Mr Bingley’s gaze lingered on Jane.

“Miss Bennet, if you are not engaged for the next set, may I hope for the pleasure?” He extended his hand to her; Elizabeth smiled as her sister’s aire deepened.

Why had Mr Bingley’s aire not changed? Should not attraction deepen the hues of admiration? Or was she alone in reading such signs?

As he led Jane to the dance floor, Elizabeth glanced at his unnamed friend and the incomprehensible nothingness around him.

Mrs Long’s arrival drew Elizabeth’s attention, and she exchanged a few pleasantries with the older lady.

Still, her mind returned repeatedly to the enigma of the gentleman, Mr Darcy, as Mrs Long had named him.

She studied him from the corner of her eye as he acknowledged greetings but did not extend himself beyond the mundane.

“Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet nudged her with an elbow.

Elizabeth snapped from her reverie.

“Have you made Mr Darcy’s acquaintance? So very tall and dignified! You must agree he presents himself most impressively. I warrant he owns half of Derbyshire!”

She linked her mother’s arm. “Perhaps he finds our assembly unworthy of his notice.”

Mrs Bennet huffed, her marigold aire spotted with irritation. “I daresay he may. He could stand to look happier.”

Just then, Mr Bingley returned Jane to them, his face alight. His conversation was animated—full of compliments for Meryton and admiration for the assembly’s warmth. Elizabeth noted how Jane’s aire remained brightened.

Mr Darcy, however, maintained his place near the wall. Elizabeth watched him, intrigued and mildly amused by his detachment. What man comes to an assembly only to watch others dance? And why, above all, could I not see his aire?

“Excuse me while I talk to my friend.” Mr Bingley bowed, and Elizabeth watched him hurry towards Mr Darcy. The latter nodded as Mr Bingley approached. Elizabeth inched towards them to hear better.

“Come, Darcy,” he said, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner.”

“I certainly shall not. As I have said before, I detest the activity unless I am well acquainted with my partner.”

“How insufferably fastidious you are!”

“I will do my duty to your sisters.”

“And then what?”

“Nothing. There is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

If he speaks honestly, I pity him. To see so little and feel even less, what a lonely existence it must be.

“Upon my honour, I have never met as pleasant a grouping.” He gestured towards Jane. “Have you been acquainted with the Bennet ladies? They are uncommonly pretty.”

“You have danced with the only handsome girl in the room.”

Mr Bingley put a hand upon Mr Darcy’s shoulder. “She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is her sister, just over there, who is very pretty and, I daresay, very agreeable. Let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” Mr Darcy turned towards her. “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt—”

Elizabeth met his gaze full-on. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

My eyes. Men had gawked at her before—some unsettled, others merely curious—but never with such undisguised shock. What did you see?

He gasped loudly. Heads turned.

“Darcy! What in heaven’s name?” Mr Bingley’s voice cut across the room.

Mr Darcy turned from her and hastened away .