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estimation.” Glancing around, she spotted Charlotte on the other side of the room. “Good evening, Miss Bingley.”
    As Caroline watched Elizabeth’s retreating form, a slight frown marring her countenance, Mr. Darcy approached and said, “I believe I can guess the subject of your reverie.”
    “I would be surprised if you could.”
    “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. The nothingness, and yet the self-importance of these people, is altogether distasteful.”
    “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you,” said Caroline. “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a handsome woman can bestow.”
    Mr. Darcy immediately fixed his eyes on her face, and desired she would tell him what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
    “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of course.”
    “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Darcy. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? And pray, when exactly did you become such intimates?”
    “That is exactly the question I would expect you to ask,” Caroline said. “A man’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to intimacy in a moment.”
    “If you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter absolutely settled. Though I myself am immune to the Bennet sisters’ appeal, I cannot say I have missed their mother’s charm; and, of course, she will always be with her daughters, wherever they go.”
    Caroline dismissed Darcy’s attempt at wit, and gave over to wondering when and how she might convince Elizabeth that her admiration was sincere. Though, if she were wise, she would in fact leave off pondering the younger Miss Bennet’s attractions. Darcy’s satire was not far off the mark; while the elder Bennet sisters had much to recommend them in temperament, bearing, and intelligence, their connections left rather more to be desired. Besides, on the last occasion Caroline had initiated a friendship with a lady, she had found herself forced to relocate merely to placate the lady’s jealous husband. Perhaps the longing to convince Elizabeth Bennet she found her much more than merely tolerable was an urge she had far better ignore.

Chapter Seven
    M R. B ENNET'S PROPERTY CONSISTED almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.
    She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
    The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.
    Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers