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“Of course,” Jane replied.

Not something chosen merely for Pemberley. Elizabeth had needed to say it aloud before she could look properly at the patterns.

She chose a soft blue, with long sleeves and a plain finish which left Mrs. Mercer no reason to bring out the more expensive ornaments. Jane held it up once more and smiled at the effect.

“That is decided.”

“You speak with great authority over another woman’s gown.”

“I have had years of practice.”

Elizabeth returned the smile. For a few minutes they might have been in their own room at Longbourn, sharing an opinion before Mama arrived to supply three more. She wished Mary could see the wool. Mary always began by declaring colour unimportant and ended by examining every shade.

Mrs. Mercer completed her measurements and entered the particulars in her book. She repeated each choice aloud so that there could be no mistake about the order.

“We shall require another fitting for the pelisse, miss. If you are satisfied then, I expect to send everything on the tenth.”

“Of October?” Elizabeth asked, foolishly.

“Yes, miss. Ten days hence.”

It was the last day of September. Elizabeth had known the date when she rose that morning, yet the ordinary business of ordering a gown made the approaching month feel more certain than all the discussions of winter had done.

“Thank you. That will answer very well.”

The women packed their patterns. Mrs. Reynolds went downstairs with them, and Jane remained to help Elizabeth replace the books upon the window seat.

“You need not do that,” Elizabeth said.

“I can move two books, Lizzy.”

Jane put them down and rested a hand upon the cushion. “You have made this room very much your own.”

There was little evidence of it beyond the books, her workbasket, and the shawl hanging over the chair. Nevertheless, Elizabeth knew what her sister meant. She no longer opened the wrong drawer in search of a ribbon. She knew how the latch liked to be lifted, where the afternoon light would fall, and which part of the seat Sir would occupy if she left sufficient room for him.

“I shall be sorry to give it up,” she admitted.

“Then we must make certain you have a comfortable room at Alderbrook, too.”

Elizabeth kissed Jane’s cheek. Her sister had not yet acquired a house and was already providing a room for her.

For the rest of the day Elizabeth kept to ordinary occupations with a determination which made them less ordinary than she could wish. She sewed beside Jane, answered a question of Caroline’s without inviting an argument, and thanked Mr. Darcy for his consideration when an opportunity arose after dinner.

“I saw Mrs. Mercer leaving,” he said. “I hope she could provide what you required.”

“She was very helpful.”

“Good.”

He asked nothing about colours, cost, or quantity. Elizabeth appreciated the restraint. It enabled her to thank him without feeling obliged to defend every decision she had made.

Then Charles called his friend to look at a letter, and the conversation ended before it could become more difficult.

She had wanted him to remain a little longer. The admission vexed her as she went upstairs.

In her room she put the remaining patterns, which Mrs. Mercer had left for comparison at the next fitting, into the drawer of her writing desk. She read until her eyes grew tired, set the book aside, and rang for Sally. When the maid had helped her undress and gone to her own bed, Elizabeth put out the candle.

She lay awake for a little while listening to the house. Somewhere beyond Jane’s door Charles laughed softly. A servant passed in the corridor, and then there was quiet.