The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet by Bernie Su, Kate Rorick Page B

darling diary, somewhere in the
bowels of Netherfield, making its way back to the wrong bedroom . . . landing in Bing’s hands . . . or landing in
Darcy’s.
    I didn’t get much work done after that.
    So I came back to Netherfield and started tearing my room apart. This is where Jane saved me.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, coming to the door, looking flushed and lovely after a hard day at the office (“flushed” is really as disheveled/tired/cranky as Jane
Bennet ever gets).
    “I can’t find my diary,” I said. “I know I packed it. At least I think I did.”
    “You did. Or rather, you gave it to me to pack, remember?”
    My head came up. “I did?”
    “You did.” She smiled, and beckoned for me to follow her to her room. “You needed more room for your camera and stuff in your own bag, so I took your books in mine.”
    Ah, yes, my camera equipment. School lent it to me for the summer. But in case anyone here ever happens to see it (read: Bing or Darcy), Charlotte and I came up with a cover
story—I’m going to say that I’m sending video letters to Charlotte, as an experiment for one of our communications classes. Because that’s totally a thing that schools give
credit for these days.
    Jane went to the little desk in her room and picked up a shoulder bag, and rifled through. “Including one red Moleskine journal.”
    And now, you are in my hands, and I feel normal again.
    Can you imagine if someone had read it? It’s hard enough trying to be private here—for such a large house it feels awfully crowded. Mostly since Bing is being so polite and welcoming
and trying to make us feel at home that you can’t help but
not
feel at home. But if someone had found my diary, and read all my deepest thoughts and feelings about my family? About
my future? It would be like exposing a wound.
    I mean, I’m still reeling from the implications of Caroline knowing about my videos.
    Yes. That’s the big news.
    I was making a video yesterday, and she came in and totally called me out on my “Letter to Charlotte” ruse. Apparently, unlike anyone else in this house, Caroline knows how to use
Google, and she found the videos a while ago and has been watching.
    The good:
    1. She hasn’t told Bing about them. (Thank God.)
    2. She hasn’t told Darcy about them. (THANK GOD.)
    3. She wasn’t weirded out by the Bing/Jane-heavy focus and speculation the videos have taken thus far.
    The not so good:
    1. I don’t know if there is a downside to this. Caroline, who could have been very angry and rightfully so, was remarkably cool about the whole thing. She came on
     camera, wanting to be in the video—even going along with my opinions about Darcy. She told me that “even though he’s my friend, sometimes you just want to shake
     him.”
    2. However, I am a little uneasy. After all, this is the first time someone who’s been talked about on the videos has known about the videos. And I’m not exactly
     known for my niceness. But then again, neither is Caroline. And she took it in stride.
    3. And I guess that’s what’s bothering me most about this. Caroline has always seemed rather stuck-up to me, in a “fake-smile” kind of way. But
     she’s been great about having us stay with them, and she’s totally fine with my project. Could it be I misjudged her the same way that I misjudged Bing? (Next, you’ll be
     telling me that I misjudged Darcy, too—which, no. That one I see clear as day.)
    Maybe I did misjudge Caroline. But that can only be a good thing, because my initial opinion wasn’t very nice. And it’s actually a little bit of a relief to have Caroline know.
It’ll make the two weeks we are here at Netherfield a lot more comfortable.

F RIDAY , J ULY 13 TH
    So, this is life at Netherfield:
    I get up early, because sleep has never been better on 3,000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
    I go down to the breakfast room (yes, it has its own room) to find a buffet already arranged with piping-hot