Waiters snaked in-between tables courteously bowing to customers with one hand behind their waist coated back whilst social wasps sipped on their Evian relating the latest gossip to their co-conspirators and an obstinate social butterfly with a fifteen month old secret was locked in a never-ending staring competition with a proud socially inept gentleman who harboured an infatuation for a woman that he didn't think existed.

Oblivious to the situation he had caused, Charles Bingley playfully tried to engage Elizabeth and Darcy in conversation, missing the evident elephant in the room. After several failed attempts he harrumphed, collapsing onto a vacant leather seat, staring blankly up at Darcy; who had his eyes trained on Elizabeth's face.

Jane sensing the tension sat straight backed and alert looking at her sister who had turned an unbecoming shade of green under closer observation; who is this man and why do they both look like Casper just popped up to say hello?

Attempting to draw a conclusion to a question that had not been asked, Jane puzzled over the fact that Elizabeth had quite clearly been keeping something from her but that didn't answer how Lizzie knew the handsome brown haired man and why did he have such an effect on her?

Jane had instantly recognised the name 'Fitzwilliam Darcy' as that of the illustrious billionaire but considering the fact that Lizzie had hated the upper class elite since she was old enough to protest and took pleasure in speaking severely about them at every opportunity she doubted they knew each other by socialising together ?

Exchanging a bemused expression with Charles, Jane tried to search the imposing gentleman's face for any sign of familiarity; it was true the curve of his noble nose, teamed with that of his chiselled cheekbones and the set of his smoky brown eyes were disconcertingly familiar and oddly comforting but she could of sworn they had never met in such an intimate setting to allow her to take in every detail of her face.

Jane visibly jumped in her chair, as she remembered the broken and dejected gentleman that had visited her the day she and Lizzie had been moving out of their apartment; Lizzie had been out hunting for more card board boxes and so wasn't there but she recollected how the look on his forlorn face had made her want to take him up in her arms and pretend to be oh what was her name . . . Em. . . Emilia, no . . . oh blast what was.

"Emily?" Darcy broke the silence first, the sound of his deep baritone reserved but clear as he ventured forth, staring down at Elizabeth who was looking up at him through her thick black eyelashes, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks.

'Emily, that was it, Emily Benedict . . . but wait . . . Lizzie was Emily Benedict? That makes no sense, clearly she was misinterpreting all of this information because why would Lizzie pretend to be her imaginary childhood friend?

When Charles Bingley had informed Fitzwilliam of his meeting with their new events agency, Darcy would never have readily agreed to join him if it weren't for the fact that when Charles was relaying the details about the company he actually relayed more about one of the directors than the company themselves. Darcy hated to think that Charles could be easily manipulated and so had agreed to the meeting on his terms, acceptable meeting space near their building just before lunch so that he wouldn't have to miss work. Charles may have time to fornicate with employees but he certainly didn't.

After instructing Mrs Reynolds to arrange a conference call for him at 1400 he had left his office confident that it would not take him long to dispatch the money grubbing socialite that was leeching to his friend however, for some minutes an irritating vibration shook his leg reminding him of the time but he was loathed to answer it.

On entering the restaurant Darcy surveyed the usual high society crones that had their eyes trained on him as he walked past, noticing one in particular he nodded his acknowledgement to Catherine de Bourgh, his late mothers friend and thought that the only thing that would make this afternoon more disagreeable would be if de Bourgh's insufferable niece showed up; as if moth to a flame. For all his attempts at civility Darcy had failed to notice who was waiting for him, at Charles' table, preferring to trail behind in an imposing and reserved manner. Unfortunately, when Fitzwilliam did notice he was instantly bewitched by the brunette goddess at the table; her eyes held an unmistakeable energy that he had scarcely done justice to in his memory and the soft intake of her breath as she saw him was music to his ears; Emily, he whispered incredulously!

'Fitzwilliam, this is Miss Jane and Elizabeth Bennett!' What NO, Darcy thought that cannot be, I have pictured and memorised every last line in Emily Benedict's face and this girl is most definitely her. His mind coursed with a torrent of questions, each one tumbling over the last struggling to come to the surface.

Emily. . . Elizabeth did not smiled and thrown her arms around him as had always been the way in his dreams, pressing gentle kisses to his eyelids as she declared her unswerving love for him neither did she confess that for two year's she had been searching for him to no avail; deflated, the weight of everything that was happening made Fitzwilliam sag into the seat the waiter had pulled out for him; he did however not take his eyes off Elizabeth afraid that if he dares blink she might disappear again.

In his mind he begged her over and over again to look at him, to let him gaze into her chocolate eyes and never look away again and after some unspoken command she did; meeting his eyes with those big brown spheres of perfection. Studying her he noted that a becoming rouge coloured the apples of her cheeks and was extending down her creamy neck towards the opening of her crisp white shirt that concealed her breasts. Following his eye line she crimsoned further and looked away, unconsciously twitching at the collar of her shirt to conceal her bounteous chest; this failed and only served to let him catch a quick peek of the delicate blue lace bra that remained hidden. Was it his imagination or had her chests got significantly larger? Surely she would not have had them enhanced; when Nicola had her boobs done they were fun to look at but horrible to touch. Darcy realised too late that he had crossed onto dangerous waters and he couldn't help but think about how he would like to tease Elizabeth's white shirt open with his teeth and discover what was underneath. The evidence of his amorous thoughts grew increasingly evident as he fidgeted in his seat attempting to conceal the growing bulge under the table; in an attempt to cool down Darcy tried to think about anything but her . . . Georgina, Charles, Caroline, Catherine but nothing working until one thought rocked him to core, it had been niggling at him in the back of his mind but was now startlingly obvious like a flashing neon light in a dark alleyway; he may not have been able to find a nobody but everyone in London knew who he was, he could be found so she couldn't have even looked, which must mean she didn't want too.

"Elizabeth, Jane here was telling me about William, the story about the cookie jar; kids can be so mischievous can't they. How old did you say he was? Oh 15 months yes that's right, has he got round to talking yet. I can't wait to hear my child's first words."

"Charles, I think you're putting the cart before the horse, you actually have to have children for them to speak." Darcy interjected, trying to regain some control over his feelings.

Charles laughed, "Darcy, I can't wait for the day when you have children."

"That I can assure you will be a long way off." Darcy said, shyly glancing to Elizabeth; who was looking away.

"How do you know you don't have some love child floating around somewhere?"

"Men, who have love children, are careless and carelessness is something I have never been nor would want to be."

"Don't you want children, Darcy?" Charles had unconsciously said the one question Elizabeth was dying for someone to ask and she consciously came back to the table to hear the answer. 'Don't you want children, Darcy?' Elizabeth's eyed darted to Darcy's face studying his reaction, she didn't really want to know Darcy's opinion on children; by the look of his pristine Armani suit she doubted she was going to like the answer; she was willing to bet that a man such as Darcy had never been around children let alone wanted them.

"Charles, is this really lunchtime conversation with people I have only just met?' It was voiced as a question but was actually a carefully disguised swift ending to the topic of discussion.

"So Miss Bennett, excuse me for being so bold but I believe we have met before, at our first AGM in 2008, you were one of the organisers?' Elizabeth, had not been expecting him to remember her and for a moment she allowed herself to believe that perhaps she had left a lasting impression on him, as he had with her; then she remembered that he had known her under a different name, Emily Benedict and this mad her blush, she had lied and the thought of explaining herself to him made her stomach twist in knots.

Author's note:

It's nice to read all the reviews, even the critiques . . . it helps so please keep doing it.

Venice was amazing, (saw the filming of Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp's new movie) the weather was great and I really wish I was still there. Might try and add a bit of traveling to the story, maybe having some of the characters going to Venice, what do you think?

I look foward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter, I know Darcy hasn't picked up on William yet but he will.

Kx