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Bingley has shown remarkable confidence in taking two unmarried sisters to a house containing only one eligible bachelor. I hope his friend possesses a cousin. It would be a pity to waste so much excellent hospitality for want of a second gentleman, though I do not undertake to persuade either young lady to accept him.

Do not be angry with me for teasing you. I am glad you have company which interests you, and gladder that Jane may remain where she is comfortable. Your host has even invited me to visit. I shall consider whether I can leave your mother to govern three daughters without my assistance, which she has lately informed me is of no assistance at all.

Your chair remains where you left it. I cannot promise that nobody will put a book upon it before February, but it shall be cleared when you return.

Your affectionate father,

T. Bennet

Elizabeth laid the letter upon her lap.

A cousin! Papa would furnish Pemberley with eligible men as readily as Mama would furnish it with daughters, and congratulate himself upon being above her schemes.

There was no sensible objection remaining except that she did not like to owe this particular man a kindness which she must acknowledge.

That was not a reason to go cold.

When Mrs. Reynolds came upstairs later that morning, Elizabeth met her upon the landing with the letter folded in her hand.

“My father approves your plan,” she said. “If Mrs. Mercer can come, I should be glad to see what she recommends.”

“I believe she can attend tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“I asked when she might be free. I have ordered nothing.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I see you have anticipated my objections.”

“Only the first, miss. We may deal with the others when the patterns arrive.”

For once, Elizabeth was willing to let somebody else make the arrangement.

Chapter Nineteen

MRS. MERCER BROUGHT three books of patterns, a length of green wool, and a daughter who looked at Elizabeth’s room as though she expected to be turned out of it.

“You may put the box there,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the chair beside the hearth. “If Sir comes, I shall turn him out before you.”

The girl smiled and set down her burden.

Mrs. Mercer made a little inclination of her head. “My daughter assists me with the plain work, miss.”

“I shall be glad of her assistance. Most of what I require ought to be plain.”

Mrs. Reynolds closed the door behind them. “Mrs. Mercer understands that the things are intended for use here through the winter.”

“Certainly, ma’am. I have brought something for walking, something for the house, and a few lighter patterns for the evening.”

She began arranging the samples upon the window seat. Elizabeth had cleared her books away before breakfast, but the room seemed suddenly much smaller with four women in it and so many possibilities laid out beneath the glass.

The first wool was a rich brown, much finer than the cloth of the pelisse she had asked Mama to send. Elizabeth stroked it before remembering that she meant to ask the price.

Mrs. Mercer supplied it without embarrassment. She also showed a less expensive piece in a dull green.

“Which wears better?” Elizabeth asked.

“Both will wear well. This has the closer weave.” The dressmaker touched the brown.