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HENSLEY PERUSED HER wardrobe for something to wear on Tuesday’s outing to The Gathering Place until she found the nautical-themed dress patterned after one she’d seen featuring ladies’ fashions from the 1920s.

All of the bedrooms in the drafty old Victorian had tiny closets, so her parents had eventually equipped each daughter with antique armoire wardrobes.

And Hensley’s was chock full of old-fashioned fifties style dresses and such.

Yes, this particular dress would be perfect with the cute navy-blue sailor hat trimmed in white to match.

She’d wear navy-blue pumps with a white bow clipped to them .

She swirled around the room while holding the sailor dress against her frame until she fell into another wedding daydream.

She could imagine herself riding in that limo again.

Perhaps not with Blake, but rather her imaginary future Mr. Darcy.

Although, she had to admit Blake had grown on her a little since their dinner at The Creek Grill.

But only a very little. She plopped onto her canopy bed and sank back into the pillows, imagining a more agreeable and less judgmental man at her side.

“Knock, knock. May I come in?” Some taps sounded at the door.

Hensley gave no answer as she imagined herself walking the grand halls of Pemberley, and with a Mr. Darcy of her own at her side.

He would keep his arms clasped behind him as they strolled those magnificent halls, but ready at any moment to offer his arm and steady her when they descended the staircase.

She would be wearing a silk ballgown, ready to dance among all of their fine guests who waited below for a chance to mingle with them and be properly introduced.

“Earth to Hensley ...” Her sister’s voice disrupted the glorious moment as she peeked around the door, and sadly, just as they were about to greet their guests, all dressed in their finery, anxious to meet Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.

Hensley sat up, blinking her daydream away. “Oh, hello, Jen.”

“You were a million miles away ... a daydream perhaps of you riding in a certain man’s limousine?” Jen grinned, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hensley flung a pillow at her sister and Jen jumped onto the bed, giggling after catching the pillow.

“Most definitely not!” She rolled her eyes, and with an indignant deep voice in her best rendition of a manly tone, she mimicked Blake’s earlier remark after meeting him when they’d chased after Boscoe.

“Hensley Fitzwilliam is ‘not exactly my type.’”

They burst into giggles. Then her sister grew serious and rested her elbows on the pillow she’d caught a moment ago, propping her chin in her hands. “I can’t imagine dating someone with that much money.”

Hensley’s brow arched. “It is hard to imagine being so rich that one can afford a full-time armed driver and a limo, plus a shiny red truck.”

“And you meet with him tomorrow evening to finish the initial planning for the fundraiser. Is this the dress you plan to wear?” Jen glanced at the sailor-style dress on the bed.

“Yes, and the hat. Can I borrow your navy hard-case clutch?” Hensley’s lips curved into a smile.

“Of course.” Jen nodded. “I do sometimes wonder if we’ll ever meet our Mr. Right. I’m twenty-eight and starting to give up.”

“And I’m twenty-five and can’t help but ask myself the same question.

If we keep praying, it will happen when we least expect it.

Our Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley shall appear.

The Lord will not forsake us.” Hensley swung her feet over the side of the bed, but deep down, she had plenty of doubts.

“But do not think for one moment that I have met my Mr. Darcy yet. I still consider Blake to be at best, downright grumpy and unfriendly most of the time—especially considering how long it has taken for him to even introduce himself when he has been attending our church since moving here a year ago—and judgmental. Very judgmental.”

Jen tucked some loose hair behind an ear.

“I know you are an excellent judge of character, but I do hope for your sake that everything you think about him turns out to be wrong. It would be encouraging if at least one of us found a husband.” She tilted her chin and then sat up.

“We shall not give up or sink into despair about finding one. I am always encouraged by your faith, Hensley. On that note, Mother sent me up here to ask if you were coming down for dinner. It’s spaghetti night.

There’s salad, garlic toast, and pineapple upside-down cake. I helped make the cake. ”

“Then I know the cake will be perfection. It all sounds great. I’m starving. Let’s eat ...”

Hensley jumped up from the edge of the bed and her sister followed as they headed outside into the hallway.

It was hard to fathom that the Lord could find five husbands for five sisters when they all seemed to be running out of time.

Women had biological clocks, after all. If she’d managed to give Jenny any faith, it was by accident.

She barely had enough for herself. Iron sharpened iron and Jen had encouraged her without knowing it.

If He would just send three husbands for the eldest three daughters .

.. Jen, herself, and Lula. MaryAnne and Kit were younger and had more time.

But she and Jen were especially running out of time.

Five was an awfully large request. Maybe she should pray for only three husbands and stop praying for five.

Not that the Lord could not handle a large request, but sometimes she had the idea that He was much too busy answering everyone else’s prayers to remember her requests.