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“That is very pretty,” Jane said.

“I thought you would like it. Your Aunt Phillips has no eye for a pale ribbon. She would have used something which could not be seen at all.”

Mrs. Bennet held the cap against her palm and examined the stitches once more. For a moment Elizabeth saw her simply as a woman waiting to meet her grandchild, anxious that nothing should be lacking.

“Shall I put it with the other little things?” she asked.

“Not beneath anything heavy. You will crush the trimming.”

“I shall be very careful.”

Her mother handed her the cap, and she laid it in the basket where Jane indicated. Mama began telling her daughter about the caps she had worn as an infant, and Jane listened with a pleasure which had very little to do with their construction.

Elizabeth left them together when Mrs. Reynolds came to say that Mrs. Talbot had arrived for her visit. The midwife greeted her upon the landing as a person she had seen often enough to recognize, then went in to speak with Jane.

“She asked me to stay when the time comes,” Elizabeth told the housekeeper quietly.

“Mrs. Bingley?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Reynolds touched her arm. “Then you shall be where she wishes you.”

They walked toward Elizabeth’s room. The copied instructions lay put away, with the clean linen thread she had used in practice.

Elizabeth took a fresh length from the little packet upon her desk and ran it lightly between her fingers. There was no cold in it. It was an ordinary piece of thread, one end slightly thicker where the fibres had twisted together.

“I shall put this in Jane’s workbag,” she said. “It hangs upon her chair. I can reach it without leaving her.”

“Take another as well, miss. A thread may fall, whatever else you intend for it.”

Elizabeth smiled at the practical counsel. She chose a second length, laid the two together, and folded them into a clean scrap of linen so the ends would not catch upon Jane’s needles.

“And you will tell me if I make myself useless by attempting everything at once.”

“I expect Mrs. Talbot will tell us both before that happens.”

They could laugh a little. Elizabeth was grateful for it. She did not feel certain of success. She felt better prepared than she had when the dream first left her holding the remembered weight of a child in empty arms.

When she returned to Jane, the midwife was putting on her gloves.

“Your sister wishes you to remain with her,” Mrs. Talbot said. “You must be willing to move when I ask, and to let somebody else do a thing if your hands are occupied.”

“I shall.”

“Good. She knows your voice. That will be a comfort.”

Mrs. Bennet rose to accompany the midwife onto the landing with one more question. Jane watched them leave, then looked at Elizabeth.

“Mama has been remembering how quickly Lydia arrived.”

“Lydia has never been willing to wait for anybody.”

Jane laughed, then rested back against the cushion. Elizabeth put the little linen packet into the workbag upon the chair’s right side. She moved Jane’s scissors to the sewing basket, where their points could not catch the thread, and placed the book within reach once more.

“Where had we stopped?” Jane asked.

“At the aunt’s letter.”