# Microsoft Copilot — fanfiction, raw output - Date: 2026-09-26, sent 10:27 (+07), answered in about 60 s. Web app (copilot.com), free, "Автоматически" mode, interface Russian, answer in English. Brief pasted as one message. - Capture: page text via the extension. - First read: the header complete, five tags, a 21-word summary; a title; 697 words; the line once, exact, Charlotte's. No canon break, no anachronism ("five minutes before" is period), nothing after the last line but the interface's three chips ("Use more Austen-like diction" among them). The diction is the closest to the book of the eight: "She had said everything which friendship, astonishment, and good breeding could require"; "Friendship demanded generosity; sincerity demanded judgment; and she had never before discovered how ill the two might agree." "Does your family know? Yes. And they approve? Very much." is chapter 22 in miniature. The scene is at Longbourn and Charlotte leaves at the end, which is where the book has it. ## Answer Fandom: Pride and Prejudice Rating: General Audiences Relationship: Elizabeth Bennet & Charlotte Lucas Characters: Elizabeth Bennet, Charlotte Lucas Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Friendship, Canon Compliant, Elizabeth Bennet POV, Regency Summary: After Charlotte announces her engagement to Mr Collins, Elizabeth discovers that understanding a friend's choice is quite different from forgiving it. The Bounds of Friendship Elizabeth had wished her joy. She had said everything which friendship, astonishment, and good breeding could require; and Charlotte had received it all with that composure which, five minutes before, Elizabeth would have called sense. Now she scarcely knew what to call it. They remained alone together. Charlotte had not hurried to leave her, though the great communication was made; nor did Elizabeth wish her gone, though she could think of nothing to say which might not betray the severity of her reflections. Charlotte was to marry Mr Collins. The thought, repeated however often, could not lose its absurdity. At last Elizabeth said, "You are really determined?" Charlotte smiled. "Can you suppose me otherwise?" "I had rather suppose almost anything else." "That is because you judge for me as you would judge for yourself." The reproof was so quietly given that Elizabeth could not resent it. She walked to the window, then turned back again. "But, Charlotte, you know him." "Yes." This simple answer was worse than any defence. Had Charlotte mistaken Mr Collins, had vanity disguised his folly or gratitude exaggerated his merits, Elizabeth might have argued, laughed, exposed, and at last forgiven. But Charlotte knew him. She knew the solemnity of his trifles, the servility of his admiration for Lady Catherine, the want of judgment which appeared in almost every speech. She knew all this and had accepted him. "You cannot esteem him," said Elizabeth. "I do not pretend to think him clever." "Or agreeable." Charlotte did not answer immediately. "You require more than I do, Eliza." "And you require too little." For the first time Charlotte coloured. Elizabeth was instantly sorry, but not enough to retract. "I am not romantic, you know; I never was." "No," said Elizabeth, more gently. "But there is some distance between romance and Mr Collins." Charlotte laughed, and the familiar sound gave Elizabeth a moment's relief. "I expected you would think so." "And you expected me to be astonished?" "I expected you to be very much astonished." "Then I have at least answered one expectation perfectly." Charlotte's smile remained, but Elizabeth could not join it. She was conscious of injustice in demanding that her friend should feel as she did, yet could not persuade herself that difference of temper explained everything. Charlotte was seven-and-twenty. She had little fortune. Elizabeth knew these facts as well as Charlotte did, but till this afternoon they had seemed facts only, not arguments. "Does your family know?" "Yes." "And they approve?" "Very much." Of course they did. Elizabeth could imagine no other reception from Sir William and Lady Lucas; yet their satisfaction, so easily conceived, made her more melancholy rather than less. "And Mr Collins?" Charlotte's countenance became almost arch. "You need not fear that he is dissatisfied." Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself. It was impossible not to do so, and equally impossible, a moment later, not to be ashamed of it. Mr Collins's satisfaction was the least surprising part of the business. Charlotte came nearer and took her hand. "You will not think worse of me always." There was something in the word always which checked every lively answer. Elizabeth looked at her friend and saw, not Mrs Collins, not the mistress of a comfortable house, not the wife of a man whom she herself had refused, but Charlotte, who had heard her confidences without impatience and borne her opinions without offence. "I shall endeavour not to think worse of you at all." "That will be difficult." "Very." Charlotte pressed her hand. Elizabeth wished she could say more. She wished, still more earnestly, that she could believe more. Friendship demanded generosity; sincerity demanded judgment; and she had never before discovered how ill the two might agree. When Charlotte rose to go, Elizabeth accompanied her as far as she could. Their parting was affectionate, almost as it had always been. Yet when Elizabeth watched her friend depart, she felt that some alteration had already taken place which neither kindness nor habit could wholly prevent. She had thought Charlotte understood the world too well to be deceived by it. It had never occurred to her that Charlotte might understand it perfectly, and choose accordingly.