At last, Mrs. Bennet rose. “It is time.”
There was no protest. The habit of obedience, long established, required no reinforcement.
Elizabeth gathered her things and followed her sisters from the room.
The corridors were quiet as they ascended. Doors opened and closed; goodnights were exchanged.
Elizabeth entered her own chamber. It had been hers from the time of her arrival—a space that, though modest, held a familiarity she had come to value. The window overlooked the grounds; the air, even now, carried a trace of the evening’s coolness.
She crossed to the bed and sat. A moment passed before she moved again. A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Jane entered, her expression gentle. “May I?”
“Of course.”
She joined Elizabeth upon the bed, settling beside her with easy comfort.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then Jane said, “What do you think he will be like?”
Elizabeth considered. “Mr. Bingley?”
Jane nodded.
“I have no notion,” Elizabeth said. “Though if Mrs. Long is to be believed, he is everything that might be desired.”
Jane smiled. “We must allow for some adjustment.”
“As your stepmother has wisely observed.”
Jane’s smile deepened. “Still, it will be something new.”
“That alone recommends it.”
Jane glanced toward the window. “It is so rare, is it not? That anyone new should come to Meryton.”
“Rare enough to be remarked upon at dinner.”
Jane grinned. “I wonder if he will bring sisters,” she said. “Or friends.”
“Or expectations,” Elizabeth added.
Jane tilted her head. “You think so?”
“I think it unlikely that any gentleman should take a house without some purpose in view.”
Jane considered this. “Perhaps his purpose is simply to enjoy the country.”
“Then he will find himself well situated.”
They spoke a little longer—of possibilities, of neighbors, of nothing in particular.
At last, Jane rose.
“Good night, Lizzy.”
