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“Peter is sleeping, Mama. He was up all night with a stomach ache, and I prefer that he rest. I am sorry that you came so far.”

“Far? Nonsense! We are but two miles apart. Besides, if you would use the remedies I have recommended, he would never suffer stomach ailments. But do you listen to me? No!”

Her eyes narrowed at her eldest as though she was beginning to wonder if Jane did not want her to see the boy. She exclaimed resolutely, “Well, if he is sleeping, I shall just have to continue to come often until I find him awake!”

Caroline groaned audibly, catching the attention of Kitty and Lydia who had been chatting without regard to the others since their arrival. The youngest Bennets collapsed in laughter, and none of Mrs. Bennet’s pleadings could force them to explain the source of their amusement. During it all, Jane threw an exasperated glance at Caroline, who just shrugged.

“Mama, please wait until Sunday. We are to join you for dinner, and I am sure Peter will be well by then.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed but did not reply, instead, standing to depart. Everyone else stood, and they all made their way towards the door. Lydia and Kitty managed to go through ahead of their mother, running down the steps and shouting for her to hurry or the shops would close before their arrival. Mrs. Bennet, however, stayed resolute at the door, staring at Jane. Finally, Jane reached into the pocket sewn into her dress and retrieved a few coins, looking back to see if Caroline was watching. Glad for the departure of the meddlesome Bennets, Charles’ sister had stayed behind in the parlour.

As discreetly as possible, Jane dropped the coins into Mrs. Bennet’s waiting hand, and the older woman pulled it back to examine the contents. A pleased look covered her face, and she smiled. “You take such good care of your poor mother.”

She leaned in to give Jane a kiss, but Jane swayed back slightly, and Mrs. Bennet kissed the air. “You should hurry if you are walking into Meryton, Mama.”

“Yes. Yes, you are correct.” Mrs. Bennet hastened down the steps. “I shall ask Mr. Phillips to have us driven home in his carriage as soon as we are done visiting Mary.”

She was completely out of sight before Jane realised she still stared in the direction they had gone. Silently, Caroline had moved to stand beside her, remarking dully, “A very unusual woman, your mother.”

“Indeed,” came the reply—equally as lifeless.

Ignoring Caroline, Jane shut the door and quit the foyer, mounting the grand staircase and heading for Peter’s room. How she hated it when Charles was away, and she was left to deal with his sister and her mother all by herself.

Netherfield

Later that evening

Caroline went to Charles’ study earlier than was her usual habit as her brother and sister had not come down for dinner, and she assumed they had retired for the night. She was exhausted by the visit of Jane’s awful family and was resigned to retire early herself, but not before checking to see if anything had come in the mail. She had become accustomed to the feeling of accomplishment she had in knowing all of the Bingleys’ affairs, personal and financial. What with Jane’s being indisposed lately, she had half-convinced herself that she was not meddling, but instead, keeping an eye on their shared circumstances and she felt entitled to do so.

She had no more than locked the door and sat down behind the desk, when voices in the hall outside brought her to her feet. She could hear Charles as he addressed a servant. She ran to stand behind a tall bookcase that separated a small reading area from the rest of the room. Gasping for air, she took several deep breaths in order to calm herself. Almost immediately, she heard the sound of a key, the yielding of the lock and squeak of the door. Footsteps made their way towards the desk, and the squeak of the leather chair alerted her to her brother’s presence as he sank into it.

She stood ramrod straight for several minutes, trying not to faint, all the while thinking of and rejecting likely excuses to offer if she were noticed. Her mind raced, and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, that she did not hear softer footsteps enter the room, only the sound of Jane’s strained voice.

“Charles, I have been so busy I have forgotten to ask. Was there a letter from Mr. Darcy today?” Caroline’s ears perked up, and she leaned closer to the shelf in an effort to hear.

“No, sweetheart, but I expect a letter any day now.”

To her chagrin, Caroline still could not make out every syllable of Jane’s soft reply.

“I am worried. We have not heard a thing since Lizzy regained her senses. Do you suppose she has recovered completely and knows everything—her narrow escape and our efforts to hide her?”

Caroline became rigid. Elizabeth Bennet? But ... but she is dead!

“Part of me prays that she has, Jane, and the other part wonders if she can handle the truth of what happened. Living with the count must have been a nightmare, and if she thinks he may still be looking for her—”

Jane interrupted. “If my sister is back to her true self, she would not wish to bring harm to anyone, especially not Mr. Darcy. It has been admirable of him to help her, but she is stubborn, and I fear she will run away from Pemberley—from us all, if only for our protection.”

Caroline could hear the chair squeak as Charles stood. She prayed they were leaving, and footsteps towards the door seemed to indicate that she was saved from exposure.

“Come, sweetheart! It has been a long day, and there is no need to borrow trouble from tomorrow; we have plenty for the day. Let us save this conversation until we hear from Darcy.” With those words, a door shut and there was the sound of a key turning in a lock. Knowing that she was, thankfully, alone once again, Caroline stepped from behind the shelves.

This cannot be!! Caroline’s face hardened. The cousin at Pemberley is Eliza Bennet, not Elise Lawrence, and it was all a ruse to escape her marriage? Resolve washed across her countenance. I…I shall go to Pemberley and—no! Mr. Darcy would never allow me to confront her. I shall have to destroy this harridan’s plans by sharing her ruse with the world!

She stopped abruptly. But might that destroy Mr. Darcy, too? Then, a slow smile crossed her face.

No! I shall paint him as the innocent party. None shall realise that he had ever known her before she appeared at his home. I shall say that her claim of kinship—being a distant cousin he had never met—was cleverly done with the help of a common acquaintance, and he was too compassionate to suspect their motives. Yes, I shall spin a believable tale.

Mr. Darcy’s standing with the ton could never be jeopardised because of who he is, and what fool would fault him for being too kind-hearted? Yes, Eliza Bennet, I shall tell the world that you ran away from your husband and saw opportunity to attach yourself to Mr. Darcy. Afterward, he will have no choice but to send you away!