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“And neither will object to a muddy lane?”

“The trimming may object, miss.”

“Then we shall omit it.”

Mrs. Mercer’s daughter laughed, then looked anxiously at her mother. Mrs. Mercer took the green away and laid the brown beside a drawing.

“A narrow edge would finish it neatly without catching everything you walk past.”

“That sounds a reasonable compromise.”

They agreed upon the pelisse. Its sleeves would allow room for a wool gown beneath it, and Mrs. Mercer would not make the skirt so long that Elizabeth must spend every walk holding it above the ground. The decisions were small, but Elizabeth found herself enjoying them. She knew what she wanted a garment to do. She was less certain what she ought to want it to proclaim about its wearer.

The gowns presented more difficulty.

“I already have several which answer indoors,” she said.

Mrs. Reynolds glanced toward the wardrobe. “The blue has required mending twice since you came, miss.”

“It has had an active visit.”

“And will have an active winter, by the sound of it.”

Elizabeth could not deny that. She chose two wool day gowns, one green and one a quiet warm brown which Mrs. Mercer assured her would not be too much of a match for the pelisse.

“The same colour is not quite the same cloth,” Elizabeth said, considering them together.

“No, miss. You would see the difference more plainly when they were made.”

“Then I must trust you to keep me from looking as though I had dressed in the remnants of my coat.”

Mrs. Mercer smiled. Her daughter had begun to pin a tape about Elizabeth’s waist, and Elizabeth raised her arms when instructed, feeling momentarily less like a young lady choosing her clothes than a parcel being prepared for dispatch.

A knock interrupted the measuring.

“May I come in?” Jane called.

Elizabeth invited her to enter. Jane came alone, looked with pleasure at the patterns, and sat upon the chair Mrs. Reynolds moved nearer the window for her.

“I promised Charles I would not tire myself.”

“Then you must make all the difficult decisions while seated,” Elizabeth said. “I shall endure the tape.”

Jane examined the brown cloth and approved it at once. That relieved Elizabeth more than she liked to admit. Mama might have regretted the absence of decoration. Jane merely held it against her sister’s sleeve and observed that it would be very becoming.

“The evening gown need not be so dark,” she added.

“I had not quite consented to an evening gown.”

“You cannot wear wool to everything.”

“I might establish a fashion.”

“You would dislike the attention.”

Mrs. Mercer waited with a pale piece of silk across her hands. Elizabeth looked from Jane to the cloth. She did have evening gowns, but the prettiest was light enough for an August assembly and had already required Sally to repair its hem. There would be Christmas here, and dinners after the weather made a light shawl insufficient.

“I should like something I can wear again at home,” she said.