Lots of updating! Sorry! Hope you are enjoying this flashback sequence, which is setting up some fabulous stuff for the last segment of the story. Hope you are all enjoying the ride. :) x

2005

The days were long in London, and not as much as Lizzy had thought they would have been. Uncle Jeremy worked her hard, knowing that he could get the best out of her whilst she was still hungry for it, but was she? It would have been different if she had been living in the city with friends, but she was commuting out each night back to Longbourn, her spare time filled with studying for the LPC, or tear-filled phonecalls back to Derbyshire where she realised that she missed Harriet so much that her heart physically ached. Meanwhile Harriet, was having the time of her life, staying at the Stables with Aunt Maggie and Grammy, who doted on her; she was even learning how to ride on her small pony, Peanut, courtesy of Maggie's on-again-off-again boyfriend, Peter. As Mark piled another binder of paperwork on top of her desk, Lizzy sighed audibly at him; that was it, she was going out for a big drink.

The bar was smoky and crowded, the dull thud of music vibrating underfoot – it was half six on a Friday night in Soho, the room filled with every type of person you could imagine, and all pushing for attention at the bar. If she hadn't felt out of place before, she did now, dressed in her tailored suit and wearing heels that were slightly too high and painful to boot. Catching the attention of the pierced friendly girl behind the bar, she ordered a large vodka and coke and retreated over to the cigarette machine. If Lizzy was getting drunk, then she was planning on smoking at least ten Marlboro Lights and making it worth her while, she took a large swig of her drink, feeling the delicious, familiar warmth of it rush down her throat. She hadn't had a proper drink like this since arriving in London and it was hitting the spot. Lighting her cigarette, she made her way to the edge of the room and stood there observing for a moment.

And then she saw him.

Over in the corner of the room, Matthew was surrounded by an entourage of friends; laughing, drinking, enjoying the success of his recent BAFTA nomination. She could recognise his laugh anywhere and it felt sad somehow to be on the outside looking in. He had grown his hair out a bit longer than she was used to, had grown a stubbly beard, was wearing a fitted shirt and tailored trousers, looking so different, but so similar that she felt overwhelmed with it all. She hadn't expected to feel like this, hadn't expected to feel the prickle of anxiety run all over her back, hadn't expected that seeing him again – for the first time since they had spent the afternoon together in the Lantern – would make her feel so helpless as her heart thudded in her chest, almost to the beat of the music. Despite wanting to hate him for the lies and the deceit, Lizzy knew that part of her would always love Matthew Wickham and she hated herself for it. Stubbing her cigarette out on the floor, she downed her drink and pushed her way out of the bar. The cool air of the early evening felt great against her face and she stood for moment, before getting her bearings and walking towards the tube.

"Lizzy!"

Her name echoed on the street, causing a few people walking to turn around and look before carrying on with their Friday night plans. She didn't want to look back, taking a deep breath and carrying on walking.

"Lizzy!"

She stopped, nervous energy popping along her spine.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Hey Lizard," he said softly. "Long time no see."

They sat on the benches in the centre of Leicester Square. For Lizzy it seemed like a bittersweet location, being where they had spent an afternoon playing hooky during a college trip to London, when they should have been taking arty photographs, but instead ended up eating Ben and Jerrys Phish Food from over-priced concessions and people watching.

"How have you been?" He didn't look at her, instead gazing off into the far distance.

"I've been good," she said firmly. "You?"

"Well yeah, things are good with me. Really good," he reached over and, without looking at her, put his hand on hers. "How's Harriet?"

"She looks like you," she turned to face him, and he looked at her. They were the parents of a three year old and yet it felt as if they were seventeen years old again, tentatively sharing their feelings when feelings were new and everything was to play for.

"She has your eyes."

Lizzy nodded, "yes, she does. Darcy eyes."

They looked at each other again, Matthew looked at the mother of his child and he wished with all of his heart that it could have been different. Wished that he had stood up to Cara when she told him her list of demands and screamed at her that he rejected each and every one of them.

"Lizzy," he whispered. "I am so sorry."

She put her hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Me too."

He leaned over and took her in his arms, giving her a hug that had been well-rehearsed before nuzzling his face into her neck. She smelled like home.

"I don't think I ever got over you," he said to her. "I think you will always have a piece of my heart."

"I think that film-making is making you overly romantic, Mr Wickham."

"I have always been romantic, but you never appreciated it, with your swinging brick of a heart."

She smiled, "I did appreciate it…every single time."

He looked away from her now, down at his shoes, anywhere apart from her face softly illuminated by the neon of Leicester Square.

It was midnight when they stumbled back into Matthew's flat, their inhibitions reduced by the copious number of cocktails that they had drunk in Chiquito's, before they were politely asked to leave by the bouncer for causing too much noise. From there they had gone to a karaoke bar in the depths of the West End, singing terrible songs and dancing on the stage, and they had fallen into each other's arms and kissed passionately on the street outside, until a kindly WPC asked them to move along and hailed them a cab. They had fallen into the house, barely opening the doors before leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom.

The morning after was altogether different, she had tried to kiss him, and he hadn't responded, making her feel small and flat. Grabbing her clothes and shoes, she left before eight am. He didn't even get out of bed to wave her goodbye. It was Saturday and she was going home to see Harriet, rushing back to Longbourn, she managed to make the train to Manchester with time to spare. Her phone buzzed some point past Milton Keynes.

M: I need to tell you this.

L: Okay

M: I haven't been happy in so long and seeing you last night made me realise that, you make me happy. Not in a smiley way, but a deep down in my heart way.

L: Are you going to tell me that you're dying?

M: I wish this could have been different, I wish that we were raising Harriet together, that we were together.

L: You never know what could happen.

M: Love you, Lizard x

L: ***Message undeliverable***

L: *Message undeliverable***

The lights were all on at Pemberley when she got home, Maggie had been to tidy the flat and had put a shepherd's pie in the oven, waiting until she got back. Harriet was already fast asleep, and Lizzy went up, kissing on the forehead and tucking the blanket up under her chin. Slumping on the sofa in her PJ's and watching some crap on the tv, she grabbed a pile of unopened post. Bill.

Bill.

Junk.

Catalogue Junk.

HHS Membership Card.

And then a soft lilac envelope addressed to her and Harriet in a beautifully handwritten script.

Andrew and Olivia Dalhousie

cordially invite you to celebrate the

happy union of their daughter

Caralyne Laura Dalhousie & Matthew George Wickham

Oh, she thought. So that's that.