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Mr. Denny told them he had brought back another officer with him, a man named Mr. Wickham, who bowed to each of them, smiling a great deal, having a fair and pleasing countenance, and saying that he could now see that the Bennet household contained the prettiest girls within twenty square miles.

Lydia blushed and preened.

Elizabeth thought he was a bit of a flatterer, but he did seem amiable, she supposed. She might not have paid much more mind to Mr. Wickham, however, but then there was another interaction involving Mr. Wickham, only a few moments later.

At this time, three horses and riders arrived in town, and Elizabeth noted that Caroline was among them as her brother helped her dismount from where she had been perched prettily on her side saddle.

There was another man with them, a tall and regal-looking man with a long, straight nose and a serious expression on his face.

He had dark brows and dark hair, but his eyes were fair, though they appeared almost a gray color, a color like storm clouds. She was staring at this man, she realized, when his gaze caught hers.

He held her gaze for a moment, then his eyes left hers to sweep her up and down and then to settle his eyes on hers again.

The man was coming towards her now, she realized.

She squared her shoulders, waiting.

But then, Mr. Wickham was there, calling out, “Well, well, Mr. Darcy, as I live and breathe.” He touched his hat.

The man with the stormy eyes turned to look at Mr. Wickham and he went entirely white. He was quite still, simply staring at the other man. Then, stiffly he touched his hat and turned away, pointedly away from Mr. Wickham.

“That’s Mr. Darcy,” whispered Elizabeth, scolding herself for having openly gaped at him for so long.

“Aye, that’s him all right,” said Mr. Wickham. “Are you acquainted with him?”

“No, but I’ve heard of him,” she said.

“What have you heard? All accolades, I suppose?”

She turned to look at Mr. Wickham. “What have you heard? How do you know him?”

Mr. Wickham shrugged. “No, no. I shan’t speak out of turn. But I may say this, what you don’t hear about that man might shock you.”

“Well, the impression I have of him is that he’s haughty and proud and thinks rather too well of himself,” said Elizabeth.

Mr. Wickham laughed. “There we are, well, someone sees him clearly. That is all I shall say on the subject, however. Wild horses could drag nothing more from me.”

Elizabeth thought to herself that no one said that bit about wild horses dragging things from them if they weren’t just bursting to confess all of it .

But Mr. Wickham’s confession would have to wait, because she was accosted by a breathless Caroline, who was all smiles, telling Elizabeth that her plan to tell Jane had worked swimmingly, and that her brother was not even nearly as angry as he could have been, and that he had agreed to pretend that he had invited Mr. Darcy to stay after all. “You are a wonder!” said Caroline.

Elizabeth glanced around for Mr. Wickham, but he had moved off with Mr. Denny, and they were walking off down the streets.

“Now, where is this Mr. Collins?” said Caroline. “Introduce me, if you would?”

Elizabeth would have rather not put herself into Mr. Collins’s vantage point, but she took Caroline over and made the introductions.

Caroline spoke to the man with politeness, but Elizabeth could see she was assessing him, trying to determine where she could match a man like this.

However, that must be hopeless. No one would wish to marry a man like Mr. Collins. Positively no one would.

“I WONDER ABOUT Charlotte,” Caroline was saying.

“Oh, heavens, that’s the worst idea in the world,” said Elizabeth. “To saddle poor Charlotte with that man is a punishment Charlotte does not deserve!”

The two were talking on the outskirts of Meryton. Elizabeth’s sisters were walking up the road, away from her, with Mr. Collins, and she could not stay and talk for too long.

“Charlotte would have taken Mr. Hurst,” said Caroline.

“True,” said Elizabeth, who would not, herself, have taken Mr. Hurst.

“Charlotte is older than we are,” said Caroline.

“True,” said Elizabeth, who knew that Charlotte was eight and twenty, who knew that Charlotte’s knight of a father was respectable but shabby and that Charlotte’s dowry was less impressive than Elizabeth’s, and Elizabeth’s was not impressive.

“Charlotte’s position would likely be well improved at that rectory. The Lucases cannot even keep a cook!”

“True,” said Elizabeth again. She spread her hands. She began to back up, moving towards her sisters, who were disappearing into the distance. “But we must let her decide for herself, and if she will not have him, we shall not press it.”

“All right,” said Caroline. “I suppose I should think of a backup, then. Perhaps your sister? Perhaps Mary?”

“Oh, my mother won’t like it, Charlotte mistress of Longbourn,” muttered Elizabeth.

“Charles is going to give a ball,” said Caroline.

“A ball? At Netherfield?” said Elizabeth.

“Aye,” said Caroline. “I think he wants to impress Mr. Darcy.”

Why had Mr. Darcy come here so easily? Elizabeth wondered what it was that Caroline had said in the letter she’d written. She must ask, but she needed to go. She backed up further. “Well, we can introduce Charlotte to Mr. Collins then.”

“You must contrive to dance with Mr. Darcy!” Caroline called after her. “I need you to understand him in that way of yours.”

“Yes, of course,” said Elizabeth, turning round, hurrying as she walked up the road to catch her sisters and Mr. Collins up.