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“He would want a woman with either a very large dowry, very large, or else the daughter of someone with a title, I should think. Ideally, perhaps, both. A rich, well-connected woman. He could have nearly anyone, of course. There are people who are above him, but there are a lot more people above us, if you know what I mean.”

Elizabeth nodded, feeling disappointed for Caroline.

“He wouldn’t think her appropriate,” said Bingley. “She’s not the sort of woman for him.”

“I see,” said Elizabeth. “Well, say no more, then. I shall convince her to let this all go.”

HOWEVER, CAROLINE WAS not to be swayed from her purpose.

At first, Elizabeth tried to conceal what Mr. Bingley had said, because she thought to spare Caroline’s feelings.

But nothing Elizabeth said had any effect on the other woman’s determination to further the cause, so Elizabeth eventually had to come out with it.

“Your brother says he would not have a woman like you,” said Elizabeth.

“He says that Mr. Darcy would view you as beneath him, and if he is as strict and proper as you say, Caroline, it seems likely your brother is right. At any rate, I have laid it all out for Mr. Bingley and he will not be moved. He has stated unequivocally that he will not write to Mr. Darcy.” She took a deep breath and braced herself for Caroline’s reaction to this, for it would certainly not be pleasant.

But Caroline only said, “Well, then, perhaps we shall write the letter for Charles.”

Elizabeth drew back in shock. “What? You cannot be serious.”

“I don’t know that they’ve corresponded enough that Mr. Darcy would recognize Charles’s handwriting or not, but did you not say that your sister Mary is good at copying other’s handwriting?”

Elizabeth sputtered. It was true that Mary did like to attempt to copy handwriting as a lark, but Mary would never be convinced to do anything in the service of subterfuge. Mary was not the sort of girl who did things that she considered wrong. She was quite concerned with uprightness as well.

And Caroline, for all her concern with propriety, was obviously not concerned with uprightness. Obviously, Caroline considered the rules of society something to be understood and then moved around, if necessary.

Elizabeth reached out and took one of Caroline’s hands in her own. “I fear you are not hearing the most important part of this. Mr. Darcy will not marry you, your brother says.”

Caroline turned her hand and squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers.

“Yes, perhaps he would not under normal circumstances. But that is why you are here, Eliza. You understand people. You see what it is they want and what it is they despise, and if anyone can tell me what it will take to find my way into Mr. Darcy’s heart, it is you. ”

Elizabeth let go of Caroline’s hand. Yes, well, wasn’t that the way it had been with the match between the Hursts, in the end? Trickery and manipulation ?

Elizabeth was torn. Part of her recoiled from the idea. She did not know Mr. Darcy, and, well, he sounded like an exceedingly unpleasant person, all told, but she felt it might be morally reprehensible to maneuver the man into a marriage with Caroline if he would not actually wish it.

On the other hand, it sounded like a challenge, and Elizabeth wanted to try to see if she could .

“We cannot tell Mary we are going to actually send the letter,” Elizabeth muttered. “She won’t do it unless she thinks it’s play. And then, if Mr. Darcy does accept, we must come clean with your brother, and I doubt very much he will be pleased that we have forged a letter from him.”

“So, you’ll do it,” said Caroline, smiling at Elizabeth. “You’ll help me get a proposal from Mr. Darcy?”

“I really should not,” said Elizabeth. There were ever so many people in the world who would never consent to do something they thought was wrong.

Elizabeth did not know what it was about her that meant that she could bypass the guilt if the idea of the triumph seemed bright enough.

It was a sinful fault, undoubtedly. No good would come of it.

“You really should, though,” said Caroline.

“I fear it is not strictly a good and moral thing we are doing here,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, you’re being ridiculous. There’s nothing immoral about matchmaking,” said Caroline, tittering.

“Besides, I can think of nothing better that helping to make your close friends happy, and nothing would make me happier than Mr. Darcy.” She beamed.

“Besides, I shall help you find a match once I am settled, I swear.”

Elizabeth didn’t say anything, but she didn’t think she would want a match made this way, one that was secured because the man in question would help her rise socially, one in which she manipulated him into taking her on.

But she did not say that out loud to Caroline for fear of offending her.

“What are we going to do about the letter?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Caroline. “We send it off and then we have time to wait for the response and to find something to say to Charles about it.”

“There is nothing to be said, however,” said Elizabeth. “I think he will be livid. I should be quite angry if someone wrote a letter pretending to be me, and quite angry indeed if someone was being invited to my house behind my back! What could we possibly say?”

“I think you’ll think of something,” said Caroline with a shrug. “You always do.”

Oh, so it was down to her to explain this away, then. “No, Caroline,” she decided. “No, we can’t do this. We simply cannot.”

Caroline scoffed. “Certainly, we can.”

“No,” said Elizabeth. “Here’s what I propose. Contrive to get me to London with you, as you have already said you would do, then introduce me to Mr. Darcy there, and perhaps I can help you there, but trying to get him here, now, it’s too much subterfuge. I shan’t participate, and that’s final.”

Caroline shrugged. “All right.”

Elizabeth hadn’t expected her to give up so easily. “All right?”

“Yes, you’ve made it quite plain that if I want to get Mr. Darcy here, I must do it without you.”

“No, I don’t mean you should do it alone. I mean you shouldn’t do it at all.”

“Yes, I understand that’s what you think,” said Caroline. “I shall handle the subterfuge, then, if you’d rather not get your gloves dirty.” She tittered.

Elizabeth only groaned.

Then she was unsure of what she should do. Should she warn Mary not to write a letter for Caroline? Should she go to Mr. Bingley and tell him that his sister would be forging a missive from him?

She did not think that any of these behaviors would ingratiate her to Caroline, of course, and she was not entirely sure if she actually wanted to prevent Mr. Darcy from coming to stay at Netherfield or if she had to bear the burden of being the arbiter of what was right and good in this situation.

Still, she knew that saying nothing was a sin of omission.

So, in the end, she likely would have warned either Mary or Mr. Bingley, but as it was, she was distracted when her father announced at breakfast one day that they were to have a visitor that very evening.

Her mother was not the least bit pleased to have such news dropped in on her so quickly but her father indicated that he had just received communication from the man and there was little for it.

The visitor was a cousin of Elizabeth, in fact, the man who would inherit Longbourn upon her father’s death.

His name was Mr. William Collins, and the letter he sent spoke of making amends to Mr. Bennet’s daughters on the subject of his being the beneficiary of the entail, which could only mean one thing, Elizabeth determined.

He was there to marry one of the Bennet sisters.

It meant, of course, that it was probably going to be Elizabeth.

She was the eldest, unmarried daughter with Jane off and settled at Netherfield, after all. So, it would mean that she would be secure here, mistress of Longbourn, for the rest of her life.

It settled into her rather badly, she was ashamed to say.

She tried to fight that, however. She tried to tell herself it was not even about that.

She even made a few jokes with her father about Mr. Collins’s writing style, saying that it was foolish of him to apologize for being the beneficiary of the entail.

“As if he could help it,” she said. “Why, it has nothing to do with him and he cannot be blamed for it. Is he a sensible person, do you think?”

Her father laughed, enjoying her joke. He added to it, conspiratorially, “No, my dear, I think he must be entirely the opposite. There is, if I may say, a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter. I think he will be a very enjoyable person to observe.”

But not to marry, thought Elizabeth.

She did not say that out loud, however. She was fighting against her own sense of self-importance, she supposed.

She went on a walk that afternoon, all alone, and she thought to herself, What were you thinking, anyway? You were never going to do anything with yourself, and you know it. You weren’t going to go anywhere or see anything or make any discoveries or have any adventures.

It was true.

Even her foolish little daydream about a wealthy man showing up and whisking her off to his large estate with all of his servants was one that would only mean that she was picked up and taken elsewhere.

She was going to spend her life the way women spent their lives. Hopefully, she would have her own house to keep and would bear her children and have a comfortable life. There was nothing at all to be ashamed of in the idea of being the mistress of Longbourn.

Besides, she could go off with Mr. Collins now to his rectory near Westerham, Kent and escape her mother and have her own little household to keep.

Perhaps Mr. Collins would be handsome. Perhaps he would be amiable. Perhaps…

Why did she feel as if she had been given a prison sentence?