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Caroline Bingley clenched her jaw as she meandered around the assembly rooms, ignoring the chatter about her brother’s fortune, the Hursts’ income, and her own ample portion.

She had lamented that their circumstances were scarcely worth any notice in London, where she and her siblings were only tolerated due to their connection to Mr. Darcy.

It seemed a cruel irony to inspire the awe and admiration she had sought in town, here in this wretched backwater.

The speculation whispered around her did not bring her the satisfaction it might have done, had she been amongst the sort of company she had ever aspired to.

Of course, Charles wasted no time in recommending himself to their neighbors, and seemed to really think that the good opinion of all his new acquaintance was worth having.

To Caroline’s dismay, if not her surprise, her brother paid particular attention to the prettiest young lady in the room.

Miss Jane Bennet was just the sort to attract his notice; as soon as they had arrived, Caroline instantly identified which willowy blonde angel would inspire her brother’s predictable fancy.

The young lady was diffident and demure - Charles had liked many a stupider girl - and one of Miss Bennet’s multitudinous sisters seemed agreeable enough to satisfy Caroline’s dismally low expectations of the local society.

Indeed, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth both expressed themselves well, though the latter did not share her sister’s saccharine serenity.

Miss Elizabeth was polite and merry, but looked upon the Netherfield party, and indeed everybody in the room, with such a satirical eye that Caroline suspected she would be vastly diverted by whatever the young lady was thinking.

But the mother - the shrill, shrieking mother!

She had approached them in all haste, desperation and avarice fairly radiating from her.

It was not the first time that a mercenary mother had pushed their unremarkable daughters at Charles, but at least in London it had been done with some semblance of subtlety and sophistication.

Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters were strangers to any pretense of refinement.

Caroline seethed with resentment; if she and her siblings had ever conducted themselves in such a way, they would have been shunned from all decent society, but these hoydens enjoyed all the privileges afforded them by their status as landed gentry.

Poor Mr. Darcy must be suffering tenfold; Caroline sought him out for commiseration that may lead to flirtation, but her purpose was frustrated by a red-faced youth who had clearly been goaded by his friends into approaching her.

If she were to refuse him, she could hardly stand up with Mr. Darcy later in the evening, as she hoped to do - unless she stooped to the same ill manners she despised in those around her.

She had done her best to appear unapproachable, but the lad, who could not be more than eighteen or twenty, was clearly in his cups.

Caroline rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh as she reluctantly let him lead her to join the dance, which was more of a rowdy shambles.

The country dance was so disorganized that even Charles wandered away from it to speak to Mr. Darcy.

Caroline was near enough to hear him encourage their friend to join in the dancing, and she swatted at her partner, who attempted to amaze her with a jest when she wished to listen for Mr. Darcy’s reply to her brother.

Mr. Darcy’s voice was as stern as she had ever heard it, and Caroline could not resist a smile as she heard his words. “Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room with whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

Naturally, Charles was astonished by Mr. Darcy’s discernment. “I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

Again Caroline’s inebriated partner sought to delight her with his vulgar wit, taking her smile as encouragement.

She knew not what she said - and scarcely cared - as she strained to continue listening to the conversation nearby.

“But there is one of her sisters,” she heard her brother say, and Caroline caught herself looking in the same direction as Mr. Darcy.

It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet that her brother had indicated - his praise must have been for the elder Bennet sister, and thus not completely unwarranted.

But this was the other young lady whom Caroline had deemed superior to the rest of her family, and indeed to all the locals present.

A pang of jealousy stirred in her chest, until she heard Mr. Darcy’s cold reply.

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me ; I am in no humor at present to give consequences to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

As somebody who had been slighted by other men more than she could wish to admit when first she came out in society, Caroline was momentarily mortified.

Worse yet, Miss Elizabeth appeared to hear Mr. Darcy, for her shoulders stiffened as she turned to look at him and then abruptly stopped herself.

Charles had been worried that Caroline would give offense to their neighbors and she had done little to ease his apprehensions - but neither had ever imagined that Mr. Darcy, a paragon of gentlemanly behavior, would be the one to deliver such an insult.

And he had maligned one of the only local ladies whom Caroline could imagine keeping company with.

Then something strange occurred. Miss Elizabeth’s eyes lit with mirth and her lips thinned as if suppressing a smile.

She crossed the room to speak with a mousy brunette whose name Caroline had already forgotten.

The pair began to laugh wickedly together, and Caroline was thankful that Mr. Darcy had refused to stand up with Miss Elizabeth, for Caroline thought she was handsome indeed when she grew animated.

Eventually Caroline and her insipid partner went down the dance, and as she moved through the room, the rapacious whispers about the wealth of the newcomers had given way to indignant chatter about Mr. Darcy maligning a great favorite of the neighborhood.

Caroline began to feel some inexplicable discomfort about it, and was obliged to remind herself that it did not signify - these rustic nobodies had no right to expect any particular notice from their betters.

When Mr. Darcy finally asked her to stand up with him, Caroline wished they could laugh about their shared disdain for the ill-bred rabble, but the words stuck in her throat.

She comforted herself with a reminder that Mr. Darcy had always been content with silence when they danced together.

She might well presume he spent their dance admiring her, for he had said she was the only woman present with whom he wished to dance, and she had come into Hertfordshire confident that a desire to court her must be the only motive for his sojourning in such a remote and inconsequential location.

So assured was she in this belief that when they all returned to Netherfield that night, and Mr. Darcy retreated to the billiard room with Charles, Caroline was certain that he meant to speak to her brother about his intentions toward her.

Thus, Caroline acted with alacrity. Her maid was waiting for her in her bedchamber, and in less than a quarter hour Caroline had shed the elegant garments and glittering accessories that had adorned her at the assembly.

With her brushed out auburn curls falling loose over her shoulders, clad in a modest but alluring nightdress, Caroline crept into the library.

The want of books was an embarrassment, particularly with a man such as Mr. Darcy in residence; indeed, the library was utterly unremarkable, but for one little detail.

On their first day at Netherfield, Caroline had noticed a small ventilation grate that had been set rather unobtrusively into the baseboard along the wall - and on the other side of this wall was the billiard room.

The very next day she had seen to the rearranging of both rooms, to her advantage.

Twice already, she had passed hours in the comfortable chair placed strategically to both shield the grate from anybody else’s notice, and afford an easy position to hear the conversation in the next room with perfect clarity.

She had heard nothing especially exciting yet, but tonight she clung to some hope in the proverbial luck of the third attempt.

Not long after Caroline had settled herself, amidst a lengthy monologue of Charles’ immediate infatuation with Miss Bennet, the door to the library opened, and Caroline hastily adjusted her recumbent position - but it was only Louisa.

“Mr. Hurst came to my room in an attempt to - well, he fell asleep almost as soon as he got into bed with me. I have no wish to endure my husband’s snoring all night, and I supposed you might still be awake.

When you were not in your bedchamber, I knew you must be here. ”

Caroline regretted telling her sister about the convenience of the grate, for initially Louisa had only mocked her.

Now, she was entirely in the way, and would probably chatter on without moderating her volume, until she got them both caught.

In the flickering candlelight, Caroline screwed up her face with frustration before waving her arm in a silencing gesture.