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Jane came to the door while Elizabeth was inspecting the hem in the glass. Her sister had removed her bonnet and shawl, and Charles had insisted she rest before lunch. She had compromised by sitting down in Elizabeth’s room instead of her own.

“It is very becoming,” Jane said.

“I have been taking exercise in it to discover whether Mrs. Mercer left room for me to walk.”

“I imagine she knew that would be necessary.”

Sally opened the second parcel upon the bed. The two day gowns lay together, the green above the brown. Beneath them, wrapped separately, was the soft blue silk.

Elizabeth touched the sleeve. She had chosen the cloth herself, and had expected precisely this gown. Still, the sight of it completed made her hesitate. One might look at a length of silk and remain a sensible person who required something warmer for the evening. It was more difficult when that same silk had become a gown which she longed to put on at once.

“Will you wear it tonight?” Jane asked.

“Perhaps.”

“Why only perhaps?”

“Because I ought to begin with something useful.”

Jane smiled. “You have been wearing the useful thing for ten minutes.”

Elizabeth laughed and allowed Sally to help her out of the pelisse. The maid carried it to the wardrobe while Jane examined the green gown’s cuff.

“Mama would like that colour.”

“She would wish to add something to it.”

“Only a little.”

“Which would become rather more by the time she finished.”

Their mother’s parcel had arrived on Wednesday with the books Papa promised. It had contained the requested shawl, an additional pair of wool stockings, and a small paper of ribbon which Mama could not believe her daughter would find useless. Elizabeth had spread them out with Jane, and they had read the titles of the books as though no one had ever sent books before.

The volume of essays with its damaged corner now stood upon the window seat beside Cowper. Mary’s contribution occupied the desk. A narrow slip of paper still marked a passage which Mary particularly commended to her, and Elizabeth had left it in place, though she had not yet decided whether to obey the recommendation.

It had been a relief to receive things she knew. She had buried her face for a moment in the old shawl before Sally came back into the room. There had been nothing remarkable about it. She simply missed home.

These parcels gave her another sort of pleasure, and she did not quite know what to do with it.

Mrs. Reynolds came to ask whether everything had arrived safely. Sally showed her the pelisse, and Jane praised the fitting. Elizabeth thanked the housekeeper, who looked at the arrangement upon the bed and nodded as though a difficulty had been satisfactorily removed.

“You should be quite comfortable now, miss.”

“I shall.”

“If a fastening requires alteration, tell Sally. Mrs. Mercer will put it right.”

“There is nothing wrong with them.” Elizabeth glanced from the pelisse to the silk. “Everything is exactly as I chose it.”

Reynolds smiled and went about her work. Sally began clearing the paper, leaving the gowns spread out for Elizabeth to inspect once more. Jane laid a hand over her sister’s.

“You may enjoy them, Lizzy.”

“I am enjoying them.”

“You look as though you expect somebody to object.”

“Only myself.”