Page 21 of What Change Entails

“Of course.”

“And any officers?”

“If there are any officers, I shall fill three pages.”

Mrs. Gardiner took another pair of gloves from Lydia’s pile and examined them critically. “You may fill three pages with anything you like, provided you do not spend the journey hunting for officers.”

Lydia dropped backward onto the bed. “Aunt, how can one hunt for officers? They are either present or they are not.”

“One may place oneself in their way with remarkable industry.”

Lydia wiped her eyes. “Has Lizzy been speaking to you?”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled as she returned the gloves to the acceptable pile. “I was young once.”

This produced the first true silence Lydia had offered all day.

Kitty appeared astonished. Jane smiled as she turned her head away to hide her amusement. Elizabeth paused with her pen above the list.

Lydia studied her aunt with new interest. “Were you very admired?”

“Enough to know admiration is pleasant,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, “and not enough to mistake it for good sense.”

Lydia considered that, then wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like something Mary would say if she had ever been admired.”

“Perhaps. But I hope I say it with better timing.”

Kitty giggled.

Lydia giggled and stopped looking affronted for a few moments. For a time, they worked without quarrel. Jane folded gowns and linen; Elizabeth marked what had been decided; Mrs. Gardiner reduced chaos into order with impressive firmness. Lydia continued to protest, but her protests became more decorative than sincere.

By the time the trunk contained more useful garments than rejected ones, the room no longer resembled a battlefield. Lydia stood before the glass, holding two ribbons to her bonnet, unable to decide between blue and white.

“Blue,” Kitty said.

“White,” Jane suggested.

Lydia appealed to Elizabeth despite herself. “Which?”

Elizabeth considered it. “The blue.”

Lydia’s mouth thinned. “Then I shall wear the white.”

Elizabeth returned to the list. “Naturally.”

Mrs. Gardiner took the blue ribbon from Lydia’s hand and held it against the bonnet. “The blue suits the trim better.”

Lydia examined it in the mirror, trying very hard to remain displeased. “Perhaps for travel.”

“Very wise,” Jane said.

Lydia gave her a suspicious look. “You sound like Lizzy.”

Jane patted her sister’s hand. “I hope not when I am complimenting you.”

Elizabeth did not look up. The ink had pooled slightly at the end of her pen, leaving a dark spot beside Lydia’s name. She blotted it with a scrap of paper and found her thoughts slipping, without permission, from Longbourn’s noisy bedchamber to another house she had never seen.

Pemberley.