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“A reasonable ambition.”
“Charles offered to have it moved yesterday, but Mama thought I would feel the cold there.”
Elizabeth put her hand beside the window frame. There was a slight difference in the air, but no draught sufficient to justify passing the whole day looking at the place where one expected to pass the whole night.
“We need not put you against the glass. Will here do?”
Jane considered the place she indicated, then nodded. Elizabeth rang for assistance rather than attempting to shift the heavy chair while her sister watched. A servant moved it, and Sally brought the small table after it. Jane sat down and looked out at the lawn.
“Much better.”
“Then we shall defend the arrangement.”
“I should rather nobody noticed it required defending.”
Elizabeth smiled. Jane had become more particular about what she wished without becoming any fonder of an argument. Charles had learned to hear the distinction. Mama was still inclined to consider a gently spoken preference an invitation to supply a stronger one.
It was Thursday, November 11. A little sunlight reached the windows, pale but welcome after a grey morning. Most of the leaves had fallen, and Jane could see farther between the trees than she had when they first came to Pemberley.
“Do you remember Charles examining every cushion when we arrived?” Jane asked.
“I remember wishing he would sit upon one and cease tormenting you.”
“He meant to make certain I was comfortable.”
“He has succeeded. You have become so comfortable that you are rearranging the house.”
Jane laughed, resting both hands upon the arms of her chair. Elizabeth put the workbasket upon the table beside her and moved the little linen workbag which hung from the chair’s right arm clear of the table’s edge.
“Shall I put your book here?”
“Yes. Though I am not certain I shall read it.”
“Then I shall bring a worse one. You may feel no obligation to finish it.”
“Stay and read this one to me instead.”
Elizabeth sat in the smaller chair Sally brought for her. The request pleased her. There had been so many useful things to do lately that merely sitting beside Jane sometimes seemed an occupation for which she must find an excuse.
She read until her sister interrupted to ask who had written a letter mentioned upon the page.
“The heroine’s aunt.”
“I thought it was her sister.”
“Her sister wrote the letter before it.”
“Then I have not attended at all.”
Elizabeth closed the book upon one finger. “Were you thinking of something more interesting?”
Jane looked toward the window. “I was wondering whether I should know what to do.”
“About the baby?”
Her sister nodded.
Elizabeth set the book upon the table.
