Miss Drummond, who had been standing near the foot of the bed, spoke next. "I read a good deal of history, particularly military history. I like maps, dates and puzzles. My father used to set riddles at Christmas, and I was generally the first to solve them."
Miss Lacey wrote quickly. "History, maps, puzzles," she murmured.
"I can draw," Miss Lacey said, after a moment. "And paint in watercolours. I am not very strong, and I do not run unless something is on fire, but I can copy an object or face quite accurately if I am given a few minutes to look at it."
Elizabeth turned to her with interest. "Then you may be very valuable indeed."
Miss Lacey looked pleased and bent over the page to add herself.
Miss Grey spoke quietly from near the window. "I know a little botany. Not in a learned way, but my aunt has a still room and I have helped her with herbs, tinctures and preserves since I was small. I can recognise most common flora."
"I am good at cards," said Mrs Cartwright, after some thought. "Whist, especially. I do not claim brilliance, but I remember what has been played. And I sew neatly, though I hope Lady Hortensia has not arranged a challenge of speed-mending."
"Cards and sewing," said Miss Lacey.
Miss Harrington gave a small, nervous laugh. "If we are naming accomplishments, I may say I possess all those expected of a young lady. I play the pianoforte, sing, dance, speak French and Italian well, paint tables, embroider, net purses and write a very elegant hand."
Elizabeth inclined her head. "Very good, Miss Harrington."
Miss Harrington coloured and turned away towards the window.
Lady Frances spoke next. "I ride, shoot and fence."
"Fence?" said Harriet, with open admiration.
"Very well," said Lady Frances. "I have never yet been beaten by any of my brothers, and they have all enjoyed the advantage of very expensive masters."
Jane, standing beside Elizabeth, smiled. "I am afraid my skills are less dramatic. I sing a little and sew well. I also have some skill in the still room."
Miss Lacey looked up. "And you, Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth paused before answering. "I read a great deal, and I remember what I read. I walk well, I am tolerable at cards, and I am outspoken and fond of a good debate, though I am not sure that counts as a skill."
"It may," said Lady Frances. "If the gentlemen are very tiresome."
"Good," said Elizabeth. "That gives us a beginning. I think our advantage, if we have one, is that we are more likely to combine our skills together. The gentlemen may have strengths of their own, but they will also have pride, and pride can cause division."
Miss Harrington made a soft, sceptical sound.
Elizabeth looked at her. "You disagree?"
"I think it unwise to assume gentlemen are prideful or foolish merely because they are gentlemen."
"I do not assume they are foolish," said Elizabeth. "Only that they may be less willing to own to their weaknesses and more likely to overinflate their strengths."
Elizabeth looked around the crowded room. Some faces were eager, some doubtful, some amused and one or two still plainly unconvinced. It was not an orderly council, nor anything like one, but for the first time that morning she felt a little more equal to the task before her. "We, at least, know what we have to work with."
???
Breakfast had been a loud, raucous affair, with no chaperones to soften anyone's behaviour and the anticipation of the first event making even the quieter competitors restless. They made a lively party, though the battle lines seemed already drawn. The gentlemen had gathered towards one side of the room and the ladies the other.
Only Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam had resisted the division. The colonel had found a place near her almost at once and was regaling her with a story that seemed to centre around a major-general who had lost his hat. Elizabeth could not hear every word, but she saw Jane's eyes widening, one hand pressed to her lips, then a burst of bright laughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked absurdly pleased with himself.
Elizabeth wondered whether she ought to be disapproving and found she had not the heart for it.
Mr Darcy had not resisted the division. He stood among the gentlemen, a little apart from the loudest of them, in stilted conversation with Sir Geoffrey Morton. Elizabeth had spoken to the other gentleman briefly the previous evening and found him a solemn and reluctant conversationalist. An ideal match, she thought bitterly.
Mr Pritchard appeared in the doorway. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mr Darcy. Lady Hortensia asks that you attend her in the small library."
