Uncommonly Intelligent Chapter 13: Greek To Me, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Special thanks to reviewers or PMs who point out errors.

Chapter 13: Greek To Me

Darcy was not the only one writing letters. Elizabeth was behind in her correspondence to Lady Rutherford, so she decided to remedy that situation as she sat at the desk in Jane's room while her sister dozed.

Netherfield Park, October 4, 1811

Dear Lady Rutherford,

No doubt you will be amazed at the origin of this letter. But it is true; I have been residing at Netherfield Park these two days, and will likely be here for another two or three. The house was let to an amiable young man last week, a Mr. Bingley, and he is a welcome addition to the neighborhood, though his two sisters are quite a different kettle of fish. My father says of such people that he would like to buy them for what they are worth, and then sell them for what they think they are worth.

She went on to explain how Jane had fallen ill at Netherfield, then wrote:

I hasten to assure you that Jane is out of danger and is receiving the best of care.

The wonderful Mrs. Nicholls related that Mr. Bingley sent her an express giving her less than a week to prepare the house for occupancy, and she was therefore obliged to hire several extra maids in order to complete the work in time. She is using that fact to Jane's advantage, for now that the cleaning is done, she has an excess of maids. Mr. Bingley is too kind to terminate them after only a week, so Mrs. Nicholls has four maids devoted to watching over Jane in shifts, with no strain upon those left to do the housework. This happy circumstance, if anything involving Jane's discomfort can be called happy, has made it much easier for me to continue helping my father with Longbourn's harvest contracts while I attend Jane.

Mr. Bates and Mrs. Nicholls have been very kind to us. Judging from how ill Jane was in spite of their actions, I do not think it far-fetched to say they may have saved her life, for it seems that it was solely due to them that Jane was given any relief from her condition, the two Bingley sisters evidently content to let her sit shivering in her wet clothes indefinitely.

The final members of the Netherfield party are two men who are as different as night and day. Mr. Hurst, the husband of Mr. Bingley's eldest sister, has not spoken three words to me since I told him that I prefer a plain dish to a ragout, and I really have nothing more to say of him.

Mr. Darcy is a good friend of Mr. Bingley. I understand that he is master of a large estate in Derbyshire, and is here to instruct Mr. Bingley on estate management, for Mr. Bingley hopes to buy his own estate in the near future. Mr. Darcy and I got off to a bad start, which I later learned was due to his being in a wretched mood due to a combination of a severe headache, and being more or less forced to attend an assembly he did not want to attend in order to avoid being alone in the house with Miss Bingley, whose attentions toward him are as blatant as they are unwelcome. He has since redeemed himself with very pleasant conversation about a wide range of topics, and I find that he improves greatly upon acquaintance. Alas, his station is so far above mine - he is nephew to an earl - that all I can hope for is his friendship, so do not worry that I might fall for him...

Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon working on the contracts her father had brought her, and was dismayed at how much he had got wrong, despite her detailed instructions. She needed to have them ready for delivery by tomorrow morning, and after some consideration, decided to take her dinner in Jane's room so that she could talk to Jane while they ate, and then spend the rest of the evening finishing the contracts, rather than conversing with her hosts downstairs. If that made her a poor guest, so be it. She had long since determined that there was no getting on Caroline's good side.

As she expected, Mrs. Nicholls knocked on her door when she did not come down for dinner, but made only a token protest when Elizabeth explained the situation.

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire, October 5, 1811

Jane was feeling much better the next morning - so well, in fact, that Elizabeth had her try walking around her room, and then up and down the hallway. While a bit shaky, Jane seemed to be nearly free of her symptoms, and now suffered mostly from the weakness anyone would experience after being bedridden for nearly four days. Elizabeth thus felt confident that she could let Jane rest while Elizabeth spent the afternoon at Longbourn with her father and uncle Phillips, finalizing and signing the contracts.

She was able to return in time for dinner, and after checking on her sister, was pleased to announce to the party that Jane would be able to join them in the parlor for a short time after dinner. Bingley was delighted, and asked if she might like to visit the library instead, for it was now well stocked with books.

The main course for dinner was meat pies, and remembering her conversation with Darcy about rat pie the previous morning, Elizabeth looked at them suspiciously, then at Darcy, who looked at the ceiling and whistled tunelessly, but then smiled and dug into his pie. Even so, she cautiously removed the top crust and examined the filling carefully before determining that it was pheasant, no doubt shot at Longbourn or Netherfield, and as delicious as all of Mme. Beaumont's culinary efforts. Her pleasure was greatly diminished, however, by the catty remarks Miss Bingley directed at her all through dinner, which were not quite discourteous enough to cause a reprimand, but which convinced Elizabeth that she and Jane could not leave Netherfield soon enough.

After dinner, Bingley invited them all to the library, and Elizabeth went upstairs to retrieve Jane.

Jane was in company for the first time since falling ill, and Bingley could barely contain his enthusiasm. He moved a chair closer to the fire for her, and looked as if he were about to tuck a warm blanket around her until he recalled himself. Elizabeth rescued him from mortification by quickly performing this office herself, and then sitting next to Jane and engaging Bingley in easy conversation until everyone was more relaxed.

Elizabeth had not been in the library since before the books arrived, so she left Jane to Bingley's care, which could hardly have been more assiduous, and browsed along the shelves. She was impressed with the quality and selection of the books. They had been neatly arranged by subject, except for one corner which held books too big for the normal shelves. Curious, she went to that corner to see what they were. To her delight, she found that the very largest was a book on Gothic architecture, with several excellent paintings of cathedrals. She eagerly hefted the volume over to a table, for it was too bulky to comfortably hold in her lap, and began perusing it.

Darcy selected a volume on estate management and settled down in a chair to the side and slightly behind Elizabeth, so that he could sneak looks at her, chuckling to himself at his infatuation, but seeing no harm as long as he kept it under good regulation.

Caroline watched carefully as he selected his book, and casually wandered over to the same shelf and found the second volume of the set. She concealed a grimace as she read the title, but took it nonetheless, and sat on a chair facing Darcy, making sure that he could see the title as she read. Or rather, attempted to read, for it was both dry and complex, and she had no bent for either. Still, she did her best to seem as if she were reading with interest.

Despite her efforts, Darcy appeared to have no interest in her book selection, so she decided to help things along, and exclaimed, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare, after all, there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book!" Darcy did look up then, and Caroline, encouraged, continued, "When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library." Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, she added, "I have heard that the library at Pemberley is magnificent, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy nodded. "It ought to be," he said. "It is the work of many generations."

"But I am sure you have added to it," she simpered.

"I have," Darcy agreed. And turning to Bingley he said, "You have done well, Bingley. I see many interesting books here."

Bingley, engrossed in quiet conversation with Jane, appeared not to hear him, and Darcy did not consider the remark worth repeating, so he returned to his book.

But Caroline was not finished. "Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy, that being well-read is of the greatest importance?"

Darcy looked at her. "I do. I consider it far more important than many so-called accomplishments valued by society."

This was exactly what Caroline wanted to hear, for anyone holding such an opinion could hardly esteem a woman like Miss Eliza, who only looked at picture-books. After a few minutes, she tired of sitting, and decided to stroll around the room to display her figure. But again, Darcy seemed to take no notice.

Lizzy finished examining the diagrams of the support structures of the cathedral at Chartres, and turned the page to see two large paintings of the finished cathedral, one interior view and one exterior, on facing pages. Both filled her with awe. How on earth could such a marvel have been built so many centuries earlier? She studied the paintings closely, her mind actively matching up the paintings on the current pages with the diagrams on the previous pages. Those had been committed to memory, so there was no need to look back at them. She quite forgot about everything else, until a shrill, mocking voice jolted her out of her concentration.

"Well, I see you have found another picture-book, Miss Eliza. Charles, how kind of you to provide for those who find the written word too difficult." Caroline had walked past Elizabeth's table in her circuit of the room, and had noticed her looking at the paintings.

Although the remark was beyond ridiculous, Lizzy's patience for enduring Caroline's constant snipes was nearing its end, and her cheeks began to redden as her temper rose. But when she looked at Bingley to see his reaction, she saw that he and Jane, sitting near the crackling fire, were oblivious to everyone but each other. She did not want to do anything to hinder Jane's budding romance, so she swallowed her retort and instead said with a false smile, "Indeed, these paintings are exquisite."

Caroline saw the color in Eliza's cheeks and was satisfied that she had succeeded in embarrassing her in front of Darcy. For his part, Darcy was already annoyed at Caroline for her barbs during dinner, and wanted to help Elizabeth. He resolved to speak to Charles privately about reining in his sister, but for now, all he could do was try to defuse the situation. He moved to look over Elizabeth's shoulder at the book and asked, "Miss Elizabeth, is architecture another of your talents?" Unfortunately, his annoyance at Caroline made him sound more severe than kind, and both Caroline and Elizabeth interpreted it as sarcasm – the former because she wanted to believe it, the latter because she was already on her last nerve with Caroline. Facing toward Caroline and away from Darcy, Elizabeth could not see the genuine interest on his face; she could only see the sneer on Caroline's, and so she said nothing, but seethed inwardly, still unwilling to distress Jane by snapping back.

From the rigidity of her posture, Darcy saw that Elizabeth was still upset, and when he beheld Caroline's malevolent expression, he did not wonder why. He wished there were some way he could divert Elizabeth and put her more at ease. He cast his eyes around the room, and noticed the chess set on a table in the corner. While he did not know many women who played chess, he thought that Elizabeth probably did. And, he thought, Miss Bingley probably didn't, so she would not be able to comment on the game, giving everyone a respite from her unpleasantness.

"Miss Elizabeth, do you by chance play chess?" he asked as he walked around the table in front of her to block her view of Caroline.

Lizzy was in no mood, but she could not lie, although she could try to discourage him. "I do know the game, sir, but I don't play often."

As usual when speaking of her abilities to anyone but her family and closest friends, she tried to minimize them without telling an untruth. Her chess skills were quite up to date, for she enjoyed the intellectual challenge of its nearly limitless combinations, and often occupied herself on long walks by replaying games between masters that she had seen in chess books, for she had read almost every chess book published in Europe, regardless of the language. Once she had seen the list of moves, she had no need of either the book or a board to study a game in her mind, and it was not rare for her to find a better move than the master had played - though to be fair, walking leisurely in the countryside did not entail the time and pressure constraints of a live game.

But her skill made playing anyone she was likely to find around Meryton uninteresting, and sometimes unpleasant, when a man resented being easily beaten. Hence, she had not played many live games in the last few years.

Darcy was not put off. "I should very much like a game, if you are so inclined," he said. In a grave miscalculation, he added, "I promise to take it easy on you," meaning it to be teasing.

Lizzy did not take it that way. Her anger at Caroline, which she could not vent for Jane's sake, was transmuted into a misunderstanding of Darcy's motives. But there was no polite way to decline his offer when she was clearly at her leisure and had affirmed that she knew the game, so she stood up and walked over to the board with her temper rising.

"Which color pieces would you like?" Darcy asked. Elizabeth tried to tell herself that he was merely being polite, not patronizing, but after she said she would take black, Darcy followed it up with, "You may move first." That was definitely patronizing*, she thought. Her temper continued to rise.

Darcy did not pay much attention to the first few moves of the game. He had suddenly realized that playing chess with Miss Elizabeth provided an unexpected bonus.

Mrs. Bennet had supervised the packing of her daughters' trunks, and had selected the gowns with the lowest necklines. A gentleman never let his eyes stray there when he was within ten feet of a lady. But now he and Elizabeth sat directly across from each other, bent over the chessboard scarcely two feet apart, and he was obliged to look at her pieces, which were only a few inches below that beautiful, beautiful bosom. It was so hard not to raise his eyes those few inches, and so easy to escape detection when doing it with his head down, that he could not resist.

Thus he played his opening moves without much thought, for like all good chess players he had memorized an opening repertoire that served to position his pieces for when the real strategy began, several moves into the game. The first few moves were nearly automatic, barring a blunder on the opponent's part. But he had no sooner castled than Elizabeth's bishops swooped down on that corner of the board, forcing him to pay more attention.

Several moves later, Darcy had captured both of Elizabeth's bishops while she had captured only two pawns, and his king was surrounded by an impregnable wall of protective pieces. He was disappointed that she played like so many beginners, seemingly capturing whatever piece she could without regard to its value, while leaving her own pieces vulnerable to recapture. Until, that is, Elizabeth moved her knight and quietly announced, "Checkmate."

Shocked, Darcy stared at the board. A smothered mate! While his pieces prevented Elizabeth from reaching his king, they also prevented his king from moving, and Elizabeth's lowly knight was the only piece that could attack through his defensive wall. He could not take her knight, he could not move his king, and the game was lost.

"I thank you for the game, Mr. Darcy, but I believe that caution requires that Jane return upstairs. I bid you good evening." Elizabeth rose and curtsied to him, and then went to Jane, who was indeed willing to call it a night, to the dismay of Bingley - though he brightened when Jane favored him with a shy smile as she bid him good evening.

As they ascended the stairs, Elizabeth belatedly chided herself for letting her temper get the better of her. It was foolish to anger Mr. Darcy when she was the guest of his best friend. And worse, the distraction of the game had indeed relieved her stress, and as she reviewed what Mr. Darcy had said in a calmer frame of mind, she realized that he had truly meant well.

Caroline did not know how to play chess, so she had retreated to the other side of the room to sit with her sister. But she did know that chess games often took over an hour, so she smirked as Eliza left the room. As she expected, it had taken Mr. Darcy only a few minutes to defeat her, and she had overheard him say that he would take it easy on her. She said as much to Louisa, and they settled down into a conversation about how Miss Eliza kept embarrassing herself.

Darcy was still trying to understand what had happened. He hadn't lost a chess game in months, and only then to a man renowned for his ability. He examined the pieces around his king, replaying the last few moves to see where he had gone wrong. He had gone three moves back when Bingley sauntered over and sat down in the chair Elizabeth had vacated.

"I was about to berate you for beating Miss Elizabeth so quickly, Darcy, but I see now that you did not finish your game. She must have been too worried about Miss Bennet to complete it. Why, she barely even got started."

Darcy, still staring at the corner of the board where his defeated king stood, said, "What do you mean? We finished the game. She won."

Bingley looked dubious. "How could she have won? She has not even moved her queen."

Darcy's eyes darted to Elizabeth's side of the board. It was true. Her queen still stood on its original square. Evidently, she did not need her queen to beat him in ten minutes.

When opponents of unequal skill played a friendly game, it was common for the stronger player to take one of his pieces off the board before the game began, creating a more balanced contest. A player only slightly stronger than his opponent might remove a pawn. A much stronger player might remove a bishop, or even a rook. A player would remove his queen only if it was a total mismatch. Elizabeth had not insulted him by removing her queen, but by not moving it, she had still effectively given him queen odds. And she had destroyed him nonetheless. True, he might have paid more attention during the opening moves, but something told him that it wouldn't have mattered.

And that made him feel uneasy. This was an arena where he should have had an overwhelming advantage. He played chess regularly at men's clubs in London where some of the finest players in the country might visit, and still he seldom lost. Who did Miss Elizabeth play? He doubted that more than a handful of the locals he had seen at the Meryton assembly even knew the rules of the game. No doubt her father played, but it was unlikely that he was a master.

Darcy began to consider the possibility that his opinion of Miss Elizabeth's intelligence, high though it had been, had fallen well short of the mark.

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire, October 6, 1811

The next morning, Jane declared that she felt much better, and as the weather was fine, she would like to take a short walk outside while their hosts attended church. Lizzy was elated that Jane felt so well, but did not want to risk a relapse. She compromised by telling Jane that they would walk up and down the hallway after breakfast, and if she felt no strain, then they would walk in the garden in the afternoon, when it was warmer.

Jane readily agreed, and the hallway stroll was a success, so they had a short but pleasant walk outdoors that afternoon. Jane was delighted to let the sun shine on her face, and Lizzy was delighted for her. Still, Jane was not fully recovered, and allowed that she would like to rest before dinner, her first dinner that she would eat in the dining room.

Lizzy left Jane to her nap and decided to return to the library. She had it to herself, for Darcy and Bingley were out riding the estate, and Caroline and the Hursts were in the parlor. She was therefore able to browse the shelves at a more leisurely pace, which she could not do without self-consciousness when everyone was there. She found a very fine edition of Herodotus, and curled up in a chair to read.

Darcy and Bingley joined her about half an hour later, and Bingley was overjoyed to learn that Jane would be coming to dinner that night.

Caroline had seen Elizabeth pass the parlor on her way to the library, but gave her no thought, for she knew that Darcy was outside with Bingley. But after she heard the men enter the front door a half hour or so later, and they did not come to the parlor, she feared that Darcy might be alone with Elizabeth. She entered the library in a rush, looking around frantically, but relaxed when she saw that Darcy and Charles, each with a book in his lap, were sitting a good distance from the Bennet chit. Nobody looked up, as the door had of course been wide open, and Miss Bingley, for all her haste, had not made any noise as she entered. She smoothed her dress and then strolled past Darcy on her way to the window, where she pretended to adjust the curtain to admit more light. It was getting a bit darker as the sun went behind a bank of clouds, but her primary purpose had been to see what Darcy was reading. As usual, it was some dry text on farming techniques.

God, the sacrifices she made for that man! Why couldn't he ever read something she might like? But there was nothing for it, so suppressing a sigh, she repeated her actions of the previous day, finding a similar volume and contriving to keep the cover in his view as she pretended to read with interest. After his declaration that he thought that reading was a superior accomplishment, she was not going to be found wanting.

Caroline began daydreaming about what it would be like to be mistress of Pemberley, and even better, to preside over dinner parties at Darcy house in London. She came back to reality with a start when the Hursts walked into the library, and she realized that she hadn't turned a page in several minutes. She looked guiltily around to see whether anyone had noticed.

Apparently, no one had. And as she continued to observe Eliza out of the corner of her eye, she realized that Eliza was not turning her pages either, and that in fact her gaze appeared to be fixed on a spot on the floor, rather than her book. She watched her for a few more minutes, and confirmed that Eliza was only pretending to read, and doing a very poor job of it. She had no doubt that the stupid chit was only trying to impress Darcy, and idly wondered what book she had chosen for the task.

She stood and strolled slowly around the room, just happening to pass by Miss Eliza. She could not see the cover of her book, but she could see the pages.

It was in Greek! How could Eliza have made such a mistake? Did she really believe she would not be caught out if Darcy noticed? It was something you might expect of an illiterate servant, who couldn't tell the difference between the Greek and English alphabet when asked to retrieve a book from the library. But surely not even a country bumpkin like Eliza was illiterate?

She thought of servants again. In the past, she had sometimes overheard servants discussing plays that had been staged in the town square, even excerpts of Shakespeare. The more clever of them could quote passages, even though they could not read. And she had heard of people much more nobly born than Eliza who appeared to be normal in every way, including being good at conversation, but who through some defect in their eyes could not read.

Could it be that the witty, articulate Miss Eliza was illiterate? By Jove, that would be too delicious! But no, that was just wishful thinking, and not at all necessary to her goal. Exposing Eliza's deceit would be more than enough. Once Darcy knew that she was only pretending to read to impress him, he would see her for the scheming harlot that she was.

"Why, Miss Eliza!" said Caroline. "I did not realize that you read Greek."

Lizzy had been thinking about Jane, and whether or not they should return to Longbourn tomorrow. Ideally, Jane could use another day of recuperation, but it was not strictly necessary, and as noisy as Longbourn was, at least the people there were not malicious.

She had not even realized that Caroline had entered the room, and therefore had no idea what she was about. But she could tell from her snide tone that this was yet another attempt to disparage her in Darcy's eyes, and again tried to deflect it by being pleasant.

"Oh, is this Greek? I thought the letters looked rather strange," she attempted to joke.

Caroline decided that this was her moment. Up to now, when she had exposed Eliza's poor education, poor connections, and poor understanding, Darcy had seemed unaffected. Perhaps he simply did not attend to other people's conversations, or perhaps he needed proof before he condemned anyone. Well, this time she had proof, and she would make sure that he saw what a schemer Miss Eliza was.

"Oh, do give it up, Miss Eliza," she said loudly enough for the rest of the room to look up at the disturbance. "You are obviously trying to pretend that you can read Greek, but your attempt is pathetic. You have not turned a page in the last twenty minutes. I suppose you are trying to impress Mr. Darcy, but it is a futile effort. I can assure you he is far too intelligent for you to fool him. You may as well go back to your picture-books."

Darcy and Bingley both leapt to their feet. "Miss Bingley!" Darcy thundered, as Bingley simultaneously shouted "Caroline!"

Caroline was not intimidated. "Oh, don't 'Caroline' me, Charles. It is about time somebody exposed these pretenders. If you cannot see how she is trying to entrap Mr. Darcy, I certainly can. She sits here pretending she can read Greek, when she did not even have a governess, let alone attend a seminary. And before tonight, all she ever even pretended to read were picture-books. Is it not peculiar that after our discussion of accomplishments last night, she now pretends to be a great reader? Her own sister told me that she never reads."

Elizabeth was shocked speechless. She looked around the room. Caroline and Louisa were smirking; Darcy and Bingley were aghast. Mr. Hurst looked amused, his eyes switching rapidly between Caroline and Elizabeth, who collected herself, took a breath, and in as calm a tone as she could manage, said, "You are half right, Miss Bingley. I have been so distracted by thoughts of my sister that I have been reading the same lines over and over, only to wander in my thoughts again. But I assure you that I am not trying to impress anyone."

Caroline snorted. "Really, Miss Eliza, you may as well confess. You have been caught out. I am not sure you can read English, let alone Greek."

Darcy stepped into the fray. "Miss Bingley, I'm afraid that your opinion is much more indicative of your own lack of perception than of Miss Elizabeth's education. I had not known her for half an hour before being impressed with her wit and intelligence, and over the last few days I have become convinced that she is the most intelligent woman of my acquaintance."

Caroline could not believe that a man like Mr. Darcy had been so taken in by this schemer. There was nothing for it but to show him how wrong he was. She strode over to Eliza, grabbed the book from her, and turned to a random page deeper into the book, just in case Eliza had somehow prepared a trick with a translation of that particular page. "Prove it," Caroline ordered. "Translate this page for us."

"Miss Bingley, stop this," Darcy said. "Miss Elizabeth is your guest, and you are being unconscionably rude. She does not have to prove anything, and anyone can see that she is anxious about her sister."

But Elizabeth had had enough of Caroline's sniping. Jane was now recovered enough that they could return to Longbourn today if they had to, and certainly by tomorrow.

She gave Darcy a tight smile and said, "I thank you for your consideration, Mr. Darcy, but I believe it would be less bothersome for me to satisfy Miss Bingley on this matter than to bear her smirks and innuendos for the duration of our acquaintance." She took the book from Caroline and looked at the page.

After a few moments, she said, "I cannot read this."

Caroline smiled triumphantly. "What a shock," she said sarcastically. "I knew you would not be able to do it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, you mistake my meaning. I can translate it, but I cannot read it aloud in polite company. It is a most disturbing passage."

"Oh, nonsense," Caroline said. "I knew you would have some excuse. Either translate it for us or admit you are bluffing."

"As you wish," Elizabeth said. "But remember that I do so under protest.

"This is the account from Herodotus of how the ancient Egyptians prepared a body for burial. 'First with the crooked iron tool they draw out the brain through the nostrils, extracting it partly thus and partly by pouring in drugs; and after this with a sharp stone of Ethiopia they make a cut along the side and take out the whole contents of the belly, and when they have cleared out the cavity and cleansed it with palm-wine they cleanse it again with spices pounded up...'"

"Enough!" Caroline gasped, her complexion turning rather greenish. "You are bluffing! You made up that horrible nonsense in an attempt to drive me out of the room, but you will find that I will not succumb to your evil machinations." She grabbed the book and turned to her brother. "Charles, you studied Greek at Cambridge, I believe. Please tell us whether Miss Eliza is lying."

Bingley held his hands up in a pushing-away gesture. "I will not, for two reasons. First, I think what you are doing is despicable. And second, I was abysmal at Greek, and would not have passed it without Darcy's help. I barely learned enough to bumble my way through, and forgot almost all of it shortly thereafter."

"Very well," Caroline sniffed. "Mr. Darcy shall tell us the truth of the matter."

"I shall not," said Darcy. "I agree with Bingley that it is reprehensible to treat a guest in this manner."

"It is all right, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said. "I would rather lay this unpleasant business to rest."

Caroline had to give Eliza credit; she was holding her bluff to the end. But then she really had no choice –- admitting to being a fraud would be just as humiliating as being proven a fraud, so she must be placing all her hopes on the chance that Darcy would continue to refuse.

Darcy was indeed minded to refuse, but he looked at Elizabeth closely, and he saw her give him an almost imperceptible nod. Sighing, he took the book and walked back to his seat where the light was better. He began to study the page.

After several minutes, Caroline decided she had waited long enough. "Well, Mr. Darcy, can you confirm that Miss Eliza's translation is accurate?"

Darcy looked up. "I am afraid that I cannot."

Bingley looked shocked. Caroline and Louisa exchanged triumphant smiles. Mr. Hurst chortled. Elizabeth looked puzzled. "Perhaps you inadvertently changed the page?"

"Oh, admit it, Miss Eliza. You are exposed. I did not change the page, and Mr. Darcy knows it. And you know it. You are a fraud."

"You misunderstand me, Miss Bingley," Darcy said. "It is indeed the correct page, but when I said I cannot confirm Miss Elizabeth's translation, I did not mean that she was wrong, I meant that I am inadequate to the task. The text is too complex for me. If I had a dictionary of ancient Greek, I could probably translate this page in an hour or so. Without one, I can get the gist, but I am only sure about every second or third word." He looked at Elizabeth. "However, what portions I can recognize, conform with what Miss Elizabeth said. It is definitely describing Egyptian burial practices. I could recognize enough common words to see that it aligns with what Miss Elizabeth said in general, including the rather gruesome extraction of the brain, but as I said, I would need a dictionary for many of the less common words."

Bingley was staring at him. "But Darcy, you took the prize in Greek!"

Darcy smiled sheepishly and looked at Elizabeth. "It was recently explained to me that Cambridge does not have the highest standards of scholarship."

Elizabeth smiled back at him. "There is another explanation, Mr. Darcy. I believe that unless they specialize in the Classics, university students concentrate on Attic Greek, for that was the language of the most famous philosophers like Plato and Aristotle, playwrights like Sophocles and Euripides, historians like Thucydides and Xenophon, and it evolved into the Koine of the New Testament. But Herodotus wrote in Ionic Greek, a dialect that while similar, has enough differences to cause difficulties for a non-specialist. A very rough analogy would be a modern Englishman reading Chaucer. Chaucer is certainly English, but is difficult for the average Englishman to read."

"Extraordinary," Darcy breathed. Bingley sat back down, his mouth agape. Mr. Hurst was back to looking amused. Caroline and Louisa were looking stunned.

Darcy was the first to recover from his astonishment, and asked, "And are you a specialist, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smiled again. "No, I would call myself a generalist, but I do assist my father from time to time when he contributes to scholarly journals."

Caroline at last recovered her wits. "Scholarly journals? How does a man who dropped out of university contribute to scholarly journals?"

Elizabeth was genuinely puzzled. "Miss Bingley, whatever gave you the idea that my father dropped out of university?"

Caroline recovered much of her poise as she felt herself on firmer ground. "Your sister said so, and you confirmed it when I asked you about it at dinner your first night here. You both said that he had to leave Oxford when he inherited Longbourn from his father. You cannot deny it; we all heard you." Her confident smirk returned. Even if Miss Eliza was some kind of bluestocking freak who could read Greek, she had still shown herself to be a liar.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I fear that you heard what you wanted to hear, Miss Bingley, and have made unwarranted assumptions. You asked me whether it was true that my father had to leave Oxford to claim his inheritance, and yes, that much is true." Caroline opened her mouth to claim victory, but Elizabeth overrode her. "But he did not inherit from his father; he inherited from his brother. And he was not then a student. He was 30 years old and a professor of Classics."

Caroline's mouth shut with a snap. Elizabeth stood up and said, "If that concludes your interrogation, I must bid you all good day. I shall send a note to Longbourn asking for the carriage, and Jane and I will begin packing at once. Mr. Bingley, thank you again for your most generous solicitude toward Jane. We will never be able to repay you for your kindness." She left the library after a quick curtsy.

Bingley, who had scrambled to his feet to bow as Elizabeth left, rounded on Caroline. "Well, Caroline, I hope you are satisfied with your day's work. Not only did you grievously insult and falsely accuse our guest, but you made a colossal fool of yourself."

Caroline's cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment. Her attempt to expose Elizabeth as an uneducated phony had backfired spectacularly. She did not know which infuriated her more, the contempt she had seen in Eliza's eyes, or the admiration she had seen in Darcy's as that bluestocking had given her little speech.

"It's a trick of some kind. It must be," Caroline muttered.

"Caroline," said Bingley, "you did not even have the decency to apologize to her, but at this point, it is of no matter. You had gone too far quite some time ago. In a moment, I will go upstairs and beg Miss Elizabeth to remain here for as long as it takes for Miss Bennet to be completely recovered. It is you who will begin packing at once. To avoid giving further offense to our guests, you will go to your room immediately, you will take your dinner in your room tonight, and you will leave this house tomorrow."

"Charles, you can't be serious! Me, leave? The idea! I will not be driven out of my house by some country chit, no matter whether she is a fraud or a bluestocking."

"You will be driven out of MY house by me!" her brother shouted. "I have let you run unchecked for far too long, but as dull as I am, I have finally had my eyes opened. You will leave tomorrow, and that's final. I care not where you go. You may go back to London, or go to our aunt in Scarborough, or even go to Paris and drive Bonaparte to suicide with your constant complaints and fault-finding if you want to do something useful for a change. But you will leave this house!"

Caroline looked at her brother, ready to retort, but something in his eyes stopped her. She looked at Louisa, who was holding her hand to her throat, but avoiding her gaze. She looked at Hurst, whose eyes were cold. Finally, she looked at Mr. Darcy. He will not let me down.

"Mr. Darcy, surely you will help me?" Caroline purred, batting her lashes.

"It would be my very great pleasure to help you, Miss Bingley," Darcy said.

Caroline heaved a sigh of relief, but before she could thank him, Darcy continued, "I shall place my valet at your service to help you pack, and I shall instruct my coachman to make sure that your carriage is in all respects ready to leave as early as you wish." With that, he bowed to the room in general and exited the library.

*But not as patronizing as a modern player might think. The convention that white always moves first was not codified until 1889.

A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who takes the time to review or PM. I love to read them all, but I especially solicit your opinions on what you like, what you don't, what could be better, what isn't clear, and any errors, no matter how small. And thank you to everyone who follows or faves. It's so gratifying to know that my story is appreciated.