“Then we might come out sooner,” Kitty continued.
Jane smiled, though her color rose slightly. “You place a great deal of expectation upon a gentleman we have yet to meet.”
“It is a reasonable hope,” Lydia said.
Mrs. Bennet offered no rebuke. She merely observed, “Hope is no substitute for conduct.”
Kitty returned to her work.
Elizabeth remained silent. She watched, reflected, and continued her task.
The afternoon wore on. By the time the light began to fade, much had been accomplished. The gowns, though still awaiting their final touches, already showed considerable improvement.
Supper was taken. The evening passed much as the one before it had done.
At last, Elizabeth withdrew to her chamber.
The room welcomed her with its familiar stillness. She closed the door behind her and crossed to the window, though beyond the candlelit reflection there was little to see.
She sat upon the edge of the bed, her thoughts turning inward.
The mention of the assembly lingered, though it was something more than the event itself that occupied her mind.
Her position, secure within the family, carried certain complexities. The distinction between herself and her sisters, rarely discussed, remained nonetheless real. Her father’s trade—respectable and successful, though trade all the same—placed her in a somewhat different light from those whose connections rested elsewhere.
Her dowry, larger than that of her sisters, might recommend her to some while encouraging greater caution in others.
She considered the matter without dissatisfaction. It was simply a fact to be acknowledged and understood.
A minor country squire, perhaps. A man of moderate means and steady habits. Or a gentleman connected to trade, whose circumstances aligned more closely with her own.
Mr. Bingley, if rumor were to be credited, belonged to that latter category.
Perhaps he would do.
The thought did not carry with it any particular expectation. It was a possibility, no more.
She rose, extinguished the candle, and lay down.
The house settled around her.
Sleep came gradually, her thoughts fading into quiet as the promise of the coming assembly remained, for the present, no more than an idea.
The day of the assembly arrived with a sense of purpose that seemed to touch every corner of Longbourn.
Elizabeth was awake earlier than usual, awakened by the awareness that the day would unfold differently from most. Even before she rose, she heard movement in the passage—light footsteps, doors opening and closing, and the murmur of voices kept lower than their excitement naturally encouraged.
By the time she descended to breakfast, the household already bore the marks of anticipation.
Kitty and Lydia were present, though neither devoted much attention to what was set before them. Their disappointment at being excluded from the evening’s event had scarcely diminished overnight. Lydia, in particular, carried herself with an air of grievance she made little effort to conceal.
“It is most unjust,” she declared, pushing her toast aside. “To remain at home while everyone else enjoys themselves.”
“You will have ample occupation,” Mrs. Bennet said. “There is still work to be done.”
“That is hardly the same,” Lydia replied.
Kitty sighed, though with less energy. “We have helped with the gowns. We ought to be allowed to see the result.”
