The sober dress

Shaking her head, Anne pulls out the dress she had originally planned to wear. It seems tasteless to try to dress for a man when she's going to a funeral reception! What was she thinking? Better to dress modestly. That's more becoming on a woman, in any case.

The Foxhaven women arrive at the reception shortly after it's begun, and the girls spread out to mingle with the guests and share their condolences. Old Mr. Tines did not have any close family, so the reception is being run by the parish curate, whose wife does the sober duty of making sure all the guests are thanked for coming, are offered tea, and so on. Most of the women stand about the small parsonage parlor gossiping for the first several minutes - Georgiana Lightpurse waves at the girls as they enter, and Anne and Rebecca leave their mother in the company of other matrons to chat with their friend. After half an hour or so of light chatter, the men troop in from the funeral, all black coats and hats. As the gathering re-mingles, George Foxhaven waves his daughters to him from their various positions around the room. At his elbow is a young man with a clean-shaven, round face, liquid blue eyes, and light brown hair that's kept short-cropped around his head. He wears a parson's dark coat.

"Girls, come here! You must meet our new parson." As the girls assemble, Mr. Foxhaven introduces them. "Mr. Brightson, these are my daughters: Anne and Rebecca, the two eldest, this is Peggy, my youngest but one, and this here is Esther, a very studious girl! Where's Alice? Ah, well, she's around here somewhere I'm sure...in any case, girls, this here is Mr. Brightson. He's to be our new parson and has a very respectable pedigree, coming to us out of Cambridge."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Mr. Brightson says. His voice is soft and rather high, but he smiles confidently at all of the girls and gives them a brief bow as they curtsy. Curiosity stirs in Anne's breast - he seems enormously young, the more so compared to old Mr. Tines. Why, he's probably not even as old as she is. She'd put him at twenty or twenty-one, which makes sense if he's just come out of university.

"Where are you from, sir?" Anne asks formally. "We so rarely get to meet people from beyond Wiltshire."

"I'm originally a Cornwall man, miss," Brightson says with a smile. "I must tell you, I miss the sea and the cliffs there. But one takes one's benefice where one can find it! And Highbury seems a lovely town. I am looking forward to getting to know the people here."

"Well, then you must come to all the balls and parties!" Peggy exclaims. "It's the very best way to meet people. The Bellingtons - that's them, over there - they threw a lovely ball just recently to welcome their daughter Annalise home. It's a shame that you missed it."

"Peggy!" Esther scolds. "I doubt a man as well educated and focused on Christian piety as Mr. Brightson has any time for such nonsense. Don't be silly."

Brightson chuckles. "No, no, don't call your sister silly. There's no rule against a parson attending a ball or two in order to know his flock - and more importantly, it was kindly meant. Thank you, Peggy." He smiles at her, and she blushes slightly.

As Anne is enjoying the sight of her younger sister blushing from this clean-cut man's attention, movement catches her eye. It's Mr. Twilwell, handing his hat to the servant and scanning the room. {if Twilwell-Anne > 0}He sees her looking and gives her a smile and a little nod. {else}His eyes flit over her, and she feels disappointed not to be noticed more clearly by him. {endif}Should she go over to speak with him? It might be a touch more polite to stay and chat with Mr. Brightson, but surely with all of her sisters to entertain him the new parson doesn't want for company...