Mrs. Bennet continued with her tea. “You shall see them.”
“That is hardly my meaning,” Lydia said.
Elizabeth, seated between Jane and Mary, exchanged a glance with the latter. Mary’s expression suggested patience worn thin by repetition, while Jane’s reflected gentler resignation.
“Your time will come,” Jane said.
“It ought to be now,” Lydia insisted.
Mrs. Bennet set down her cup.
“You arenotout.”
The words, delivered without emphasis, carried the same finality they had the previous day. Lydia opened her mouth, then thought better of it. Kitty lowered her gaze.
The matter was settled once again.
Breakfast concluded with less conversation than usual. Anticipation for the evening, combined with the lingering disappointment of the younger girls, lent the room an atmosphere that was somewhat strained, though far from unpleasant.
Elizabeth found herself observing more than participating. Something in the arrangement of the day—its expectations and preparations—invited her attention.
After the meal, the household divided.
Mrs. Bennet directed the morning’s tasks with her customary efficiency. The gowns, though largely prepared, required final adjustments. Trimming was secured, hems examined, and ribbons arranged with care. No detail was considered too small to merit attention.
Elizabeth returned to her chamber to begin her own preparations, though the final stages still lay ahead. Her gown rested across the bed, the fabric smoothed and the alterations complete.
She paused beside it.
The dress had been improved without losing its original character. Its familiar form remained, while the additions lent it a freshness that fully justified its reappearance. The color—a pale green—had always suited her, though she had seldom given it much thought. With the new trimming of fine white lace along the sleeves and neckline, it seemed to possess an added lightness.
A narrow ribbon of deeper green had been added at the waist, tied in a manner that gave the gown a more graceful shape. The effect was simple, though undeniably elegant.
Elizabeth touched the fabric lightly and turned away.
There was still time.
The morning passed in a succession of small occupations. Mary practiced at the pianoforte, though with sufficient moderation to avoid interfering with the general activity. Kitty and Lydia, having accepted their exclusion, applied themselves to assisting where they could, though Lydia’s efforts continued to include frequent commentary upon the injustice of her situation.
“You will tell us everything,” she said to Jane at one point, while holding a length of ribbon Jane was arranging.
“I shall tell you what I can,” Jane replied.
“That is insufficient,” Lydia said. “I wish to know everything.”
Kitty nodded. “Every dance. Every partner.”
Elizabeth, seated nearby with her needle, glanced up. “You will know more by tomorrow than you would have observed in a single evening.”
“That is hardly the same,” Lydia said.
“It is not,” Elizabeth agreed. “But it is what you will have.”
Lydia frowned, though she offered no further argument.
By midday, the work was complete.
The gowns were laid out once more, each receiving its due attention.
