Lydia groaned and flopped across the settee. “Oh, I shall have a new gown, even if no one else does. And I want something with yellow trim, and little pearl buttons—”
“And three flounces, and lace cuffs, and silk stockings,” Kitty added dreamily.
Mrs. Bennet nodded sagely. “Yes, yes, we shall see what can be done. I shall send a note to the modiste at once to schedule your fittings.”
Elizabeth turned away, her hands folded tightly in front of her. Her mind was already doing the figures—four gowns, even at modest cost, would add another six or seven pounds to the dressmaker’s bill. If she delayed the new roof repairs at Dunbury Cottage and asked Hill to halve the butter order, and perhaps withheld payment to the poulterer until after harvest…
She rubbed her temple.
Jane caught her eye and gave a small, apologetic smile.
Elizabeth smiled in return, faintly.
Shewasglad for Jane. If anyone in the household deserved a little frivolity, it was her. But as Kitty and Lydia began to bicker over which of them could claim first rights for choosing the style, Elizabeth could not help but feel a faint tightening in her chest.
Longbourn could ill afford a single mistake.
And they were all depending on her not to make one.
∞∞∞
The candle burned low on the dressing table, casting a golden shimmer across the modest room that Elizabeth and Jane had shared since childhood. Outside the window, the wind stirred the branches of the chestnut tree, and the rustle of leaves offered a gentle counterpoint to the hum of crickets.
Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed, her slippers kicked off, her hair half-tumbled from its braid. Her stays hung from a hook by the door, and her shift was wrinkled from the day’s exertions. She rubbed absently at a sore spot on her shoulder, left over from carrying her folio over two miles’ worth of cottage visits.
Across the room, Jane folded a fresh linen nightdress and placed it atop the chest of drawers. The lamplight softenedthe angles of her face and made her hair shine pale gold. She looked, as she always did, like something out of a miniature—an ivory figure come to life.
“Thank you, Lizzy,” Jane said quietly, not turning around.
“For what?” Elizabeth asked, though she already knew.
“For what you said this morning. About the gown.”
Elizabeth leaned back on her elbows with a sigh. “If one of us must look pretty enough to tempt a wealthy new tenant, it ought to be you.”
Jane gave a soft laugh but turned slowly. “You know that is not what I meant.”
“No?” Elizabeth’s mouth quirked. “Then I am glad to be wrong.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the hush between them easy and familiar. Then Jane crossed the room and sat beside her sister.
“Do you truly believe we cannot afford new dresses?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “We can. But only because I will find a way tomakeit so. Something else will go unpaid, or a task delayed. Nothing fatal, but…” She shrugged. “It all adds up, Jane. I do the books. I see how close the edge really is.”
“I wish Papa would listen more to you,” Jane said softly.
Elizabeth laughed without mirth. “Papa listens to what amuses him. And the rest, he leaves to me.”
Jane studied her sister, concern in her wide blue eyes. “It is a great deal for one person to manage.”
“Someone must.”
“You are not alone.”
Elizabeth looked at her then, and her expression softened. “No. Not entirely. But Mama lives in a world of lace and lemon syllabub. Lydia and Kitty care only for flirtation and fashion. Mary—” she paused, “—has her own battles to fight. You are theonly one whoseesit, Jane. But even you are too gentle to say so.”
Jane lowered her eyes. “Sometimes I fear if I speak too plainly, I will lose the peace I manage to keep.”
