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She wrote back that she would need more than this if she were to convince her brother-in-law of anything. You must tell me why he refused, after all.

I have no notion, Caroline wrote back. You are the only one who can puzzle out such things. You’re practically a mind reader.

Elizabeth was no mind reader. Caroline, however, happened to be rather unintelligent about people. She was quite concerned with rules and propriety and getting everything correct, but she wasn’t good at people, per se, not if they didn’t stick to the rules.

So, this was how Elizabeth found herself sitting next to Mr. Bingley after swapping places with her younger sister Lydia, not without drawing some attention to it, either, because Lydia, not exactly known for being quiet in the best of times, had cried, quite at the top of her lungs, “But why do you want to sit next to Jane’s husband, Lizzy? ”

Elizabeth almost abandoned the entire enterprise at that point, but Caroline would not hear of it.

“Eliza, I need you,” said Caroline. “I shall never get married with you.”

“About ‘Eliza,’” said Elizabeth carefully.

“Furthermore, neither will you, not without my help,” said Caroline. “Talk to my brother. Get him to write a letter. You can do this easily. I know you can. You are a wonder.”

And Elizabeth liked the praise. One thing Caroline was good at was praise, was she not?

Mr. Bingley jostled her with his shoulder when they sat down later. “Did you truly wish to sit by me, Lizzy, or was it that you were angling to be closer to the gravy boat?”

She smirked at him. “Ah, you know my weakness for gravy, sir.”

At Netherfield, they would all be served by footmen, who would bring the gravy boat around, allowing everyone to dip from it.

At Longbourn, there were not nearly as many servants.

The meat and most of the sides were brought round by servants, but not the gravy.

And anyway, it was all left on the table for everyone to see to any seconds they might like at the Longbourn table.

If Mr. Bingley ever felt there was a distance between their stations, however, it was to his credit that he never let on.

“I have a weakness for gravy as well,” he told her, grinning.

“Your cook is a bit of a wizard when it comes to gravy, I must say. I look forward to dining here, you know. I have even asked for your cook to give my cook the recipe, but I think my cook was put out by it and refused to follow it properly. Anyway, I have given up on anything except coming here twice a month to dine.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Is that why you are here so often, sir? I had wondered.”

“Well, that and the fact that your father and I are such fast friends, of course.” He winked at her, because it was not true, not at all.

Mr. Bennet seemed to respect Mr. Bingley and to hold him in regard, but he and Mr. Bingley never had anything in common.

Furthermore, her own father could be aloof and easily distracted.

He was not exactly the sort to spend a great deal of time seeing to others’ ease.

He would ramble on about whatever good joke he thought of, amusing himself even if no one else was amused.

Elizabeth wondered if she had been so accurate at seeing these sorts of foibles before the matchmaking schemes.

If not, she almost wished she could have given the skill back, somehow, or have never been aware of it.

She did not entirely enjoy seeing people’s weaknesses, she found, especially not those of her dear papa.

“You could invite friends,” Elizabeth said to him. “I have been chatting with Caroline about various people in London who she claims are your friends, but she says you aren’t interested in inviting anyone to visit you.”

“Ah, now the reason comes out,” said Bingley.

“You have been manipulated by my crafty sister, I see. I knew I should be careful allowing anyone to spend too much time in her company. She turns them all to her bidding. She has always been thus, you know. I think it is because she is the youngest of the family and therefore spoiled into thinking she is entitled to get her way.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I suppose that is true about the youngest in a family. Our Lydia, after all, she is quite used to getting her way.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Bingley. “But Lydia is very charming, after all.”

Lydia was not charming, at least Elizabeth didn’t think so.

Lydia was, however, appealing. She was a stout and well-formed girl of fifteen who spoke too loudly and laughed too much and probably did not wear a fichu as often as she ought.

When men thought Lydia was charming, Elizabeth realized it was because of Lydia’s, erm, assets, and to have Mr. Bingley say such a thing was enough to make Elizabeth fix him with a disapproving glare.

He had the decency to blush. “No, I’m only charmed by my wife, of course.”

“Do you have some objection to making invitations?” said Elizabeth.

“Who does Caroline want here?” said Bingley.

Elizabeth grimaced, because that was all too bald. “I know not what you mean, sir. ”

“Oh, madam, you cannot deceive me. I know my sister! She wants something .”

However, at this point, they were interrupted by the servants coming in with dishes of food, and there was no more conversation for some time as they dipped their plates full. The gravy boat was, indeed, quite close by, and Elizabeth got the first use of it before passing it on.

By this time, she had nearly forgotten what it was they were even talking about, let alone how she was going to convince Bingley to do anything at all.

“No, I am curious,” Mr. Bingley spoke up, leaning closer to her, holding his glass of wine as he sipped it and then setting it back down.

“A few days ago, Caroline did bring up the idea that we never have any visitors at Netherfield. But when I told her that I am too busy on my honeymoon, she only scoffed and said we have been married far too long for a honeymoon.”

“Well,” said Elizabeth, “it has been nearly two years, has it not?”

“I assumed she was going to ask my permission to write to one of her friends in London,” said Bingley. “I waited and waited, and then she never asked at all. Now, you have been sent to do her bidding. What is the scheme, Elizabeth?”

“No scheme,” said Elizabeth. “No, no, you are imagining things, Mr. Bingley.”

“Imagining things.” He snorted, cutting his meat. “I am not, and you are a frightful liar, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth could not help but laugh a little. However, she knew that requesting things outright would not do, because….

Well, she did not actually know why she should manipulate Mr. Bingley instead of asking him outright, only that she had felt she must, that Caroline would not wish anyone to know what she was about.

She lowered her voice. “All right, all right, Mr. Bingley, you quite see through me. Let me ask you something. Is she quite mad to think she could marry someone like Mr. Darcy, then? ”

Mr. Bingley’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s about marriage? Oh, yes, of course, you and she have been claiming to be doing matchmaking, haven’t you? I thought that was some kind of girlish lark. You’re nearly twenty now, aren’t you? Haven’t you both left such little games behind?”

“We have made matches,” said Elizabeth, feeling a little defensive that he was calling it just a ‘claim.’

“Oh, yes, indeed, well, I hate to tell you, but your sister and I were quite set on each other without your intervention.”

“No, I can’t say we had much to do with your match,” said Elizabeth. “But certainly the Hursts, I think we can claim that to be our triumph. And you know of the marriages amongst your servants, surely.”

Mr. Bingley slowly chewed on a bite of meat and surveyed her. He swallowed. “You’re very serious, I see.”

Elizabeth felt herself flush. “Perhaps I should not be. I do not know rightly, I suppose, but I do think I have some skill with talking to people, with understanding them.”

“No, you do. You quite do.” He cut more meat. “Who is it again?”

“Darcy,” she said. “I can’t remember, but he had some estate. It started with a P, I think. Pennerly or Penningly or—”

“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. Yes, I know him. We have traveled together, it’s true, he and I.

We lost touch sometime after my wedding, I suppose.

Caroline has her sights set on him?” He considered.

“He’s sort of serious, really. Grave. A good chap in the end.

Loyal. You can count on him, all of that.

But do I really want to have him as a house guest? He isn’t a great deal of fun, truly.”

“Oh,” said Elizabeth. She supposed that did fit with the description Caroline had given. “Well, Caroline thinks they had that in common, a devotion to uprightness.”

“Uprightness?” Mr. Bingley snorted. “Caroline can be quite selfish, don’t you think?”

“Selfish, Mr. Bingley?” said Elizabeth, who did not wish to betray her close friend and refused to really consider the question. “You don’t wish to invite him, then?”

“I don’t,” said Mr. Bingley. “He would spend the whole time judging everything, you see, and likely finding all of it beneath him in some way. He would not sit here and dine at your parents’ table or pass the gravy boat. He’s just so very…”

“Proper?” Elizabeth shrugged. “Caroline said so.”

“Yes, he is,” said Mr. Bingley, “which is the real reason why I won’t write to him, not if we are intending to put your matchmaking ability to the test, because you would fail, whether you’re a good matchmaker or not. He would never marry her.”

“He would not?” Elizabeth sighed, wondering how she was going to break this to Caroline in a way that would not hurt her feelings.