Page 44 of Colour My World (The Bennet Sister Variations #3)

Longbourn, that same evening…

The rain beat against the windows of Longbourn, a steady rhythm that matched Elizabeth’s tapping fingers against her skirts. Restlessness had plagued her all afternoon, driving her from room to room, unable to settle.

Jane moved through the house in quiet satisfaction, her aire tinged with gold. As if she has already won.

Their mother had been no help, giddy from some private amusement with Mrs Ecclestone. Her father observed it all with barely concealed mirth.

She had been made a fool of, and they knew it well.

She had been jealous. She had followed Jane all about the house, attempting to pry details of her conversation with Mr Darcy.

And for what? Jane had been as sly as a fox, dodging questions and answering with only the highest praise of the gentleman.

Elizabeth had never been so vexed. She stormed into her father’s study to find him awaiting her, the chessboard set in readiness.

Mr Bennet gestured to the seat across from him. “Come, Lizzy. Let us see how poorly you play this evening.”

Elizabeth huffed but sat. “I am not in the mood for games.”

“Then it is fortunate this is no mere game.” He moved his pawn. His aire was a homogenous tan.

Elizabeth studied the board—a calculated invitation. She moved her knight in response.

“Ah. Bold and direct.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Is that not preferable to hesitating?”

“Not always. Sometimes, patience wins the war.”

She scoffed. “You caution me? That is rich.”

“I do not advise caution in life, my dear.” He moved a bishop. “I advise it in chess.”

Elizabeth felt his eyes on her.

“Something troubles you?”

She refused to take the bait and moved another piece. “You misinterpret my mood.”

“Do I?”

His next move was aggressive. She barely registered it.

Her thoughts were elsewhere—outside, where Mr Darcy had walked beside Jane, speaking— speaking —as if they had an understanding.

Her hand moved before her thoughts caught up. Reckless. Unorganised. Just like her mood. Her father made a tsking sound. “Not like you at all.”

Elizabeth scowled. “It was a sound move.”

“Was it?”

She stared at the board. The rain continued its rhythmic drumming outside. The fire in the hearth crackled, warm against the growing chill. They played in silence for several moves.

Jane had been so composed, so very at ease with him. And Mr Darcy—her Mr Darcy—had been listening. Not just politely but intently listening.

Had he ever spoken with Elizabeth that way? Her fingers hovered over a rook.

“I do hope you are not distracted, my dear.”

Elizabeth frowned and moved her piece. “I am perfectly focused.”

She looked up to see her father smirk. His aire remained unchanged. “Indeed. And what, pray, has captured my Lizzy’s full and undivided attention?”

She knew what he was doing. “Nothing.”

“A fascinating subject.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

Her father made his move, methodical as always. “Tell me, my dear, do you hold Mr Darcy in high regard?”

The question struck like a blade. She hesitated. “I think he is—” What does she think?

Her father watched her closely. “Well?”

“I think that I may have misjudged him.”

“Indeed?”

Elizabeth moved a pawn. What am I doing?

Her father’s knight swept in and claimed the piece. Then Mr Bennet chuckled. “How poetic.”

Elizabeth glared. “You are impossible.”

“Oh, I quite agree. But we were speaking of Mr Darcy.”

She stared at the board. Her pieces lay scattered. Unguarded. Just like her thoughts. She inhaled sharply. “I do not understand him.”

“The greatest frustration of all.”

She pressed her lips together. “He is not the man I believed him to be.”

“No?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I thought him proud.”

“He is.”

“I thought him arrogant.”

“He is that, too.”

She exhaled. “But he is also…something else.”

Mr Bennet leant forward. “And what is that, my dear?”

Her father’s aire was bordered by chocolate, waiting. What is he not saying? And for the first time, she had no answer for him.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling against the windows. Elizabeth moved her queen.

Mr Bennet countered immediately. “You are distracted.”

“I am not.”

“Lizzy.” Her father leant back in his chair. Elizabeth adjusted her posture. “Have you asked yourself why it unsettles you to see Jane in Mr Darcy’s company?”

“It does not.”

“Believe that if it gives you solace.”

She looked down at the board. His next move was painfully obvious.

“Checkmate.”

She stared at the board. She had not played so poorly in years.

“I daresay, my dear, you have much to consider.”

Elizabeth said nothing as the storm raged without. And for the first time in her life, Elizabeth understood precisely what she had been fighting against.

She had not been jealous of Jane. She had been jealous of Mr Darcy’s attentions. She needed air.

As she stepped away, her father’s voice tapped her shoulder. “Take heed, my dear, with your next move. ”