The second chapter of Green is the Shade of Envy is up! I do enjoy exploring the character of Caroline Bingley, but I'm afraid I'm not very adept at using the old language common to the Regency period.

Disclaimer: Nope, not dead, not Jane Austen, not the author of Pride and Prejudice.

Caroline was sitting in the corner of the ballroom. From afar, she could see Charles chatting merrily with a stiff-looking lady, and Louisa clutching at the arm of her newlywed husband, Mr Hurst. Caroline approved of Mr Hurst, but he was no Darcy. Pity he was such a drunk, too.

Next to her sat Darcy. In the first few years in which she had been in his acquaintance, she had encouraged him to participate in events and act more lively, but later on she had learned to just let him have his way. If anything, Caroline had learned to adopt the habit of skulking in the background and insulting everyone in attendance - he seemed to do the same.

"How do you like the ball?" she asked. "Of course," she added hastily, not wanting irritation to shadow his face like so many other times in which she had professed a like for something he found distasteful. "It's rather unpleasant and all. The girls here are all rather short of attractiveness, and the men are crude and behave in the most unpleasant manner."

The shadow of irritation crossed his face anyway. Caroline despaired internally. Maybe it was just her presence.

"Yes," he said curtly. "Very much irritating, the entire affair."

Oh, how dreadfully quiet he had become after his late father's departure from this world. He had been aloof in his childhood, sure, much quieter than Charles, but that was a quality she had enjoyed in her early adolescence. Now he was downright moody.

Then again, he had much to deal with. Rumours were that he was even facing financial difficulties, but those she was quick to dispel. He was as wealthy as ever, with ten thousand pounds of income a year. There was a certain unnerving story about a clergyman, but she had decided to forget about that one.

"And how do you find the entertainment?" Caroline asked. She found the musician on the pianoforte simply delightful, but she wouldn't venture so far as to say that.

"The pianoforte music is rather soothing, do you not think?" she asked hesitantly. Stick to the neutral, Caroline, stick to it. "Of course, it is not on the par of your sister's lovely skills in the art - to think, only twelve, yet so talented! - but it does for some people, I suppose. Louisa has been playing since she was six - not as talented as your sister, of course."

"Of course," he parroted, with a quick, unamused quirk of the eyebrow she almost managed to miss. So, he found the talk boring? Caroline frowned and crossed her arms. She had no more tricks up her sleeve to engage him in conversation - if he were to remain silent, then so be it.

She sipped quietly at her drink, watching as the couples danced broodingly. She held no penchant nor liking for the activity, if it was not going to concern him somehow. In her younger years, she had dreamt of him sweeping her off her feet and lifting her away from the boring life she led, but they evidently were nothing but daydreams.

She watched Darcy out of her peripheries, sipping calmly at his wine and brooding. She had never seen him inebriated before. On normal occasions he drank only one or two glasses, but he seemed to take his alcohol well. She could not help but find it an attractive trait, but then again, she found every trait of the Darcy's attractive. If he had a habit of picking his nails, it would not be of much surprise to her if she found it attractive as well.

She could not help but question internally, however, what he might speak of should he ever be inebriated. She always wondered if he ever thought of her in a positive light. He certainly did not seem to view her in such. Maybe the speech coaxed from a drunken mind could shed some light on the subject.

"Caroline?" her brother asked, tapping on her shoulder. She looked up, her train of thought interrupted.

"Yes?" she asked, rather irritated. Oh, her perfect, pleasant brother had come knocking again. She always felt annoyed when he made attempts to talk to her as though he cared deeply about her - surely it was nothing but a farce? Since young Charles had always been oddly passionate about things Caroline hardly made an effort to care about. It made her rather prickly with him, but deep in her mind she wondered if it could be envy that she was feeling.

"Could I speak with you for a moment?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, alright," she snapped, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was not happy with the situation. He led her to a corner of the room and frowned at her contemplatively.

"Well?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently. "Do get on with it."

"Caroline," he began, before pausing again. "I'm... concerned. You see, Darcy has been telling me that you've been making... uh, how do I phrase this? Unwanted advances."

Caroline felt deeply insulted.

"And did he tell you that they were so very unwanted?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you even try to stop him from impugning upon my honour as a lady?"

"He..." Charles said, with great difficulty. "He implied that they were not of great welcome to him, yes."

She felt a stabbing pain in somewhere in her chest, and she looked away to hide the film of tears in her eyes.

"Caroline," Charles said softly. "I just don't want you getting hurt. After all, you are my sister, and I've heard that an engagement has been arranged between him and Miss de Bourgh."

Oh, how she detested that horrid, sickly Anne de Bourgh, coughing away on her bed like Aunt Isabella! How she wanted to burn her alive! She's a fragile little creature, but she's such a talented darling, Aunt Catherine de Bourgh had said. Caroline hated them both.

She would've proclaimed such passionate distaste for arranged marriages as well, but that would be burning a bridge between her and Darcy that she still wished to keep. Just in case.

"I'm very worried about how his disposition towards events and affairs have affected you, Caroline," Charles said, earnest shining from his eyes. "I understand that Darcy is going through a difficult time right now, and I respect him for undergoing the pain so remarkably well, but you used to be such a happy little creature. Don't you remember playing merrily upon Father's pianoforte, and laughing along with the rest of us? Now you exclaim such shocking things about other people."

"They deserve it," she replied scathingly, reeling back a little when she saw Charles flinch.

"Caroline," he said. "Darcy is a great man, and I deeply admire him for his level-headed nature and intelligent mind, but it isn't healthy for a young woman like you to just pine away like this -"

"Don't tell me what to do," she hissed. "Just because Mother and Father assigned you as a guardian after their death doesn't give you the right to hold reign over my life and behaviour. They always favoured you either way. I am of perfectly able mind to do what I want."

He slumped a little. "Mother and Father loved us all equally-"

"Besides," she cut in, just before she left. "I'm not pining away. Despite what you might think, Charles, I most definitely do not carry a torch for Fitzwilliam Darcy. He's just a friend I wish to see happy."

The sadness in her brother's usually bright blue eyes made her pause. He looked so earnest in his advice, so sincere.

It almost made her reconsider plunging down the path she was headed for.

Almost.

After all, she was sixteen.

People would start thinking she was an old maid.

'Course, the clergyman's story Caroline heard of was actually the truth about George Wickham. People hear what they want to hear, I suppose.

Let me know of spelling/grammatical/logical errors, if there are any. I apologise for any of them in advance, I just spill my ideas out onto the computer and I don't have a beta. Do leave a review on the way out, if you could find the time.

& this will be my last chapter in a while, I'm quite busy this month. My next update will be around... early June. Sorry! D: