“Why would I want to show him my finer qualities, whatever those are?”
“A woman should always show a man her best side, especially when that man could help her achieve her dream.”
Jen sucked in her breath. “You read my mind. He could teach me stunts and get me in air shows.”
“He could. Did he seem interested in teaching you?”
“I didn’t ask,” Jen admitted.
“Then we’ll need to arrange an opportunity to do so. The engine test won’t do. He won’t want to talk about anything but the motor.” Darcy’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’m thinking a dinner invitation might be in order. We can celebrate your success at the same time. Say six o’clock?”
“Tonight?”
“Why not? We can’t afford to wait a single day.”
Jen’s pulse accelerated. Dinner with just the Hunters and Dan Wagner. Darcy would make sure she had plenty of time to talk with Daring Dan. She would start by asking him to show her a stunt or two on one of the school’s planes and work up to the rest. “I’ll be there at six o’clock sharp.”
“Oh, Jen?” Darcy touched her arm in the same manner her older sisters did when they were about to suggest something they knew she wouldn’t like. “You might want to wear a dress.”
“What did you say?” Jen’s oldest sister, Beatrice, stood rooted to the slate floor of her foyer, her jaw dropped.
“I need to borrow one of your dresses.” Jen thought she’d stated that plainly the first time. “I need a dress, and you’re closest to my size.” It also didn’t hurt that Beatrice had a sizable wardrobe of fine gowns, courtesy of marrying into the most prominent local family. True, they’d hit hard times lately, but even an outdated gown from Beattie’s closet was better than anything in Jen’s.
“You need a dress? You? What on earth for?” Beatrice asked. “You only wear dresses to church and special occasions, like weddings and...um, dances and such.”
“I have a dinner engagement.”
“Dinner engagement?” Beattie echoed, still shocked. “Such as with a gentleman?”
“Such as at the Hunter’s house.”
“Darcy and Jack won’t care if you wear a dress or not.”
“They’re not the only ones who will be there.” Jen hesitated to reveal that Dan Wagner would be in attendance. Beattie would leap to the wrong conclusion, thinking Jen was sweet on him, which she wasn’t. She was only interested, in a general and businesslike sort of way.
“Ohhhh.” Naturally, Beatrice still assumed a man was involved.
“It’s not what you think. It’s just a dinner.”
“You need to borrow a dress for that? Surely your Sunday best would suffice.”
“It’s old and worn.” Jen gritted her teeth. She would not feed Beatrice’s matchmaking inclinations. “Besides, I think Jack and Darcy are inviting others, people interested in the expedition and whatnot. I don’t want to ruin the night for them.”
“Oh.” Beatrice’s hopeful expression fell. “I suppose I could find something that would do, but none of my gowns are in the latest fashion. We haven’t been able to...um...afford many new things lately.”
“Old is fine. It’s bound to be in better shape than mine.”
“All right.” Beatrice flinched at the screeching and squealing coming from the nursery upstairs. “Excuse me.” Her heels tapped across the slate to the thick carpet at the base of the staircase. “Branford! Tillie! That’s enough. Your Aunt Jen is visiting.”
“Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen,” Jen’s nephew and niece cried in high-pitched voices. The squeals of delight were soon followed by the clatter of two sets of small feet racing down the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Beatrice apologized, though she knew full well that her children would come running the minute she mentioned Jen was here. “You know how much they love their aunt’s company. I’ll look for an appropriate gown while you spend time with them.”
Seconds later, five-year-old Tillie and three-year-old Branford grabbed Jen by the hands and dragged her upstairs to the nursery. Books and dolls and wooden blocks were strewn across the floor. After Jen played a game of jacks with her nephew, ensuring he won, she received an invitation to a tea party from Tillie. Thankfully Beatrice returned before Jen had to join her niece and three dolls for the formal affair.
“I’ve laid out a few gowns that I think might work,” Beattie said as they walked across the hallway to the bedroom. Five dresses were lined up on top of the quilt. Every one of them was covered with lace or ruffles or bows.
Jen cringed. “These aren’t exactly my style.”
“You want to look nice for all those expedition supporters, don’t you?” Beattie’s tone made it perfectly clear that she doubted even one subscriber was invited.
Jen saw no reason to confirm her sister’s suspicions, even if it meant wearing a ghastly dress covered in ruffles. She looked for the least frilly gown. “Maybe we are celebrating something else.”
“Oh! I almost forgot. Today was the day you were taking the examination, wasn’t it? Darcy mentioned it earlier this week when she stopped to look at Branford’s and Tillie’s old baby clothes. So, how did it go?”
“I passed.”
“You did?” If at all possible, Beattie looked more surprised than when Jen had asked to borrow a dress. “Congratulations.” The automatic response lacked warmth.
Beattie had never liked airplanes. She didn’t understand her friend Darcy’s interest in aviation and couldn’t believe she continued to fly after crashing twice. From the first time Jen had mentioned her desire to fly, Beatrice had tried to talk her out of it. The reasons varied—unladylike, too dangerous, unbecoming—but the message was always the same.
“Flying is safer now,” Jen reassured her.
Instead of responding, Beattie picked up a garnet-colored velvet gown. “This one would suit your coloring.”
Despite the hideous gown, Jen was glad for the change of subject. “It has lace. You know I don’t like lace.”
“There’s only a little.”
“There must be ten yards of it around the waist and neck and hem.”
Beattie, the fair beauty of the family, pursed her heart-shaped mouth. “When did you say the dinner was? If there’s enough time, you could ask Ruth to remove the lace.”
“The dinner is tonight.” Jen tossed down the gown she was holding. “These are all too frilly for me. Do you have something...plainer?” That was probably a futile hope. Beatrice had always chosen the most elaborate, feminine styles.
“My everyday maternity dress.”
“Definitely not.” She held up the garnet-colored gown. Though it was a couple years old, it had the dropped waist currently in fashion. With Jen’s greater height, it fell at exactly the right length. Beattie was right about the color suiting her, but she would feel ridiculous with all that lace.
Beattie shooed away Tillie, who had come to watch the spectacle, and turned back to Jen. “Perhaps you could cover the lace. A sash around the waist might help. Or a cardigan. It is winter. A sweater would not be out of place except at the most