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Caroline wasted only a single day on the futile efforts of attempting to persuade Mr. Darcy to change his mind; her dignity could not bear no more.

When Louisa pointed out that she had spent nearly the entirety of their acquaintance making such a desperate spectacle of herself, Caroline wept, raged, and kept to her room for several days.

She claimed illness, for she had made herself sick from the fitful sleep and bouts of alternating fury and mortification that plagued her.

She had shed enough tears to give herself a ghastly megrim on the day the ladies from Longbourn called at Netherfield, and she was almost as glad to avoid the Bennets as she was to hide from Mr. Darcy.

The latter she would have to face ere long, though she knew not how she would ever do so with equanimity.

It would likely be just as difficult to avoid the Bennets.

Louisa sought her out daily, despite Caroline’s indisposition, to lament Charles’ growing infatuation with Jane Bennet.

She had little sympathy for Caroline’s disappointment; since her marriage, Louisa had not been prone to compassion for anybody else, believing her own suffering in such a union to be beyond all other imaginable tribulations.

“I cannot disagree with anything Mr. Darcy said of you ,” Louisa told her sister on the day the Bennets visited.

“I only take issue with his encouraging Charles to court that Bennet chit. Mr. Hurst shall only prove a worthy connection if he eats or drinks himself to death before he has completely frittered away what remains of his fortune. You have wasted your youth in pursuit of Darcy, though now that you understand that, you may lower your expectations before you are fixed as a spinster, to the embarrassment of all connected with us. But Charles, he shall have to be the one to marry to greatest advantage.”

Caroline shunned her sister’s company after this, though she could not rid herself of Louisa’s malicious censure.

These words, and those of Mr. Darcy, plagued her as she paced and anguished in her bedchamber.

She ate little and slept erratically, and though the megrims muddled her mental faculties, she remained engrossed in such introspection as she had never before attempted.

On the morning that marked a week since she had sequestered herself, she awoke feeling a little better.

She had spent her tears early the previous day and had not cried herself to sleep the night before, and so she had risen with a clearer mind.

Still, she played over Mr. Darcy’s words, determined to find some advantage to be had, if only to triumph over her vicious sister.

He had stated his wish that Caroline might be a friend to the woman who would someday become Mrs. Darcy, and the doubts that Louisa had expressed on that score only strengthened Caroline’s resolve to do as Mr. Darcy desired.

Caroline sipped at a steaming cup of coffee, smiling at the pastoral view that she had only disparaged when first they arrived in Hertfordshire.

Most of the trees were barren already, but a few still had golden leaves clinging on, trembling in the breeze and almost glowing in the morning light.

She felt something like hope, and began to pace.

To be an intimate friend of the future Mrs. Darcy might indeed be something.

That lady’s company would be highly sought after amongst the first circles, despite - or perhaps even because of the scrutiny Mr. Darcy believed his bride would face in London society .

Mrs. Darcy would be grateful indeed to have such a loyal ally while navigating the ton .

And perhaps Mrs. Darcy might have some other cause to thank her.

If Caroline were to be a supporter of the match before it had taken place - if she were instrumental in choosing Mr. Darcy’s bride, surely then both husband and wife would bestow eternal gratitude upon her.

Indeed, Caroline might employ her considerable talents to the selection of a perfect woman, both as a wife to Mr. Darcy and a friend to herself.

And here at Netherfield, while they were removed from the distractions of London’s fortune hunters and haughty debutantes, was the perfect chance for Caroline to accomplish such a feat.

Her desire for Mr. Darcy began to feel like a distant memory.

He had been correct in his assessment that Caroline had only ever sought the alliance for his fortune and connections, and access to his magnificent estate.

If he did not fault her motives, she would not repent her ambition.

Her parents had brought her up to aspire to such material considerations, and she had been educated for the express purpose of distinguishing herself amongst ladies favored by birth and rank rather than any personal merit.

Surely her wit and accomplishments would not be for nothing.

She would need to marry someday if she was to have any real consequence in the world, especially if her brother took a wife.

Miss Bennet might prove a docile enough wife to accept Caroline’s presence in Charles’ home - indeed, she would likely be far easier to live with than Louisa - but such an arrangement would never please her as much as having her own home.

Here was another advantage in the prospect of friendship with Mrs. Darcy; surely a friend so happily settled would wish the same for Caroline, and a well connected ally might find her an eminently suitable match.

Mr. Darcy might have made any number of introductions for Caroline, for though he was not as sociable as Charles, he was hardly without eligible friends.

But men never thought of such things, and so Caroline would have to find Mr. Darcy a clever and enterprising wife.

Though it would be more easily done while they were living in the same house, Caroline knew there was no such person for twenty miles.

There had only been three young ladies at the assembly whom Caroline had deemed worthy of notice.

Mr. Darcy had acknowledged Jane Bennet’s beauty, but Caroline knew better than to suppose Mr. Darcy might poach from his friend.

It was a pity Charles did not prefer Miss Elizabeth, who shared his open manners.

Caroline thought her nearly as comely as her sister, and certainly lovelier than her friend Miss Lucas, who seemed sensible despite her low origins.

Caroline ceased her pacing and leaned against the window with a heavy sigh.

As tempting as it was to suggest Charles abandon his pursuit of Jane Bennet so that Mr. Darcy might woo her, the thought of wounding her brother was surprisingly abhorrent to Caroline - which was most inconvenient.

She began to consider that she might compose a list of suitable ladies from amongst her London acquaintance, and invite them to visit her at Netherfield.

And then, Caroline squinted into the distance with bemused curiosity. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was walking up the lane to Netherfield.

***

Elizabeth climbed the steps of Netherfield, wondering to herself how she had let Jane persuade her into this wretched errand.

She drew in a bolstering breath of autumn air, reminding herself that Mr. Bingley’s companions had certainly shown who they were, and on behalf of the good people of Meryton, Elizabeth was ready to do the same.

She was greeted by the housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls, who had been a maid at Longbourn many years ago. “Miss Lizzy! What brings you to Netherfield at such an early hour?”

“Oh, dear - I daresay they keep town hours, and are all still abed - but no matter. I hear Miss Bingley is suffering from severe headaches, and I have brought her some herbs that will help ease the pain.”

“Aren’t you a dear? Poor Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Nicholls tutted. “She hasn’t left her room in a week, and her girl Abigail says she’s been prone to fits of weeping and pacing and all sorts of wretchedness.”

“I am very sorry to hear it.” Elizabeth frowned, realizing that she had also half expected Mrs. Nicholls to betray by some look or smirk that Miss Bingley had invented this malady to avoid company she thought was beneath her. “Very sorry indeed,” Elizabeth said with a measure of self-reproach .

“‘Tis kind of you to say, Miss Lizzy, but then you and Miss Jane were always such sweet girls.” The housekeeper smiled indulgently before footsteps in the corridor beyond the foyer caught her attention, and she jerked her head to one side before dipping into a curtsey. “Mr. Darcy, good morning to you, sir.”

Mr. Darcy was dressed for riding, and Elizabeth might have admired his figure, had he not so recently disparaged her own.

She refused to think of his handsome features and athletic build, though she could not ignore him entirely.

She felt obliged to account for her presence there, for she refused to give him cause to once again think ill of her.

He gave no other indication that he had noticed her beyond a dubious glance, and so Elizabeth said nothing to the odious gentleman.

Instead she addressed the housekeeper as she handed over the packet of herbs.

“I shall continue my morning walk, if you would be so kind as to give these to Miss Bingley. I also have….”

But here she was cut off, for Miss Bingley herself was coming down the stairs, looking between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy as if each was in need of rescue from the other.

Again Elizabeth explained her errand of mercy.

“In truth, it was Jane’s notion. She and I enjoy working with plants and herbs in the stillroom, and after you did not accompany your brother to Mrs. Long’s dinner last evening, my sister suggested we might put together a special blend that we have always found helpful.

I often walk this way in the morning, so I thought it would be no trouble to leave the herbs with Mrs. Nicholls. ”