It was not quite quarter to the hour when Montague found himself entering the drawing room. He had initially thought, being a man who could never bring himself to dawdle, he might be lucky enough to find the room empty. A little Dutch courage did wonders in situations such as these. A temptation of a quick drink to fortify himself before the evening ahead was most tempting; for Lord knows, he was adamant he would need it.
It was not that he did not respect and admire his host, no one could deny anything but praise towards a man such as Darcy; however, this did not mean he found the gentleman's manner and conversation easy. In contrast Darcy's somewhat stoic mannerisms, he found the friend by contrast to be rather all too much. Mr Bingley was all smiles, boundless chatter and in truth, not entirely bright. The man flipped from pensive to uncontrolled mirth in the blink of an eye. Montague was not one to suffer fools lightly; though he had to admit, although the gentleman would never be his favourite acquaintance, Bingley did appear entirely harmless and somehow this was a rather endearing quality. He was very much like an overgrown, eager to please, energetic spaniel. One could simply not feel cross or displeased in the company of such a zealous being.
Walking into the drawing room he felt most relieved upon observing it devoid of all house guests. Striding across the room he lifted a decanter and poured himself a rather large glass of wine. He turned, feeling his stomach all but drop with heavy disappointment.
She had timed it perfectly. Upon hearing his footsteps echo within the hall, she had rushed to the western window, positioning herself with her face turned towards the evening sun which filled the room in a pretty glow. Its golden heat felt warm across her face as the light danced across her skin; her hair shimmered most pleasingly in the light, highlighting the natural red tones within her dark tresses.
Rolling back her shoulders, she arched her back to the point where the stance became almost uncomfortable, for this forced silhouette she knew made her figure appear at its most pleasing. She tilted her chin and looked wistfully out of the window, waiting. Should she turn? Should she speak first? Upon a heated debate with only herself present, she had agreed that her best move was in fact to apologise to Darcy for her earlier behaviour. Surely he could not be mad at her for such a gallant display of female superiority? In truth she had hoped it might help her cause, allow him to see there could indeed be more to her character; any fool could master the appearance of dutiful wife.
She heard the clink of glass followed by the steady flow of liquid refreshment. She could sense the moment he saw her, followed by the gentleman's sudden sharp intake of breath. The corners of her mouth raised in satisfaction. She knew she was looking as well as could be. In her opinion she had never looked finer. Her evening dress was as dark and rich as the ripest cherry, low and beautifully cut to expose her shoulders and the perfect curve of her neck. She really did adore her dressmaker. Not even Darcy could fail to be impressed by her appearance this evening, of this she felt most certain. All thoughts of Eliza Bennet would be forgot. Surely in such a gown Darcy would finally see her.
Montague inhaled sharply upon the realisation that he was not alone in the drawing room as he had momentarily assumed. Christ not the sister again! What the devil was that harpy doing downstairs so soon? He was in no mood for a second round of conversation with the book hurling brat; however, he could not deny that the view was at least something to be admired.
He drank in her appearance admiring the contrast of the jewel toned burgundy gown against her flawless skin. Her hair was piled high, making her appear even more statuesque than her natural given height. It could not be easy for a woman to be so tall amongst society, yet somehow, he could not imagine her confined to a more genteel frame. In truth it suited her. She had all the appearance of a true beauty, though from what he had witnessed, it only ran skin deep.
"Pray do not just stand there," she cooed, her back still turned to him. "I cannot tell you the displeasure I have experienced due to our earlier misunderstanding, for you know I am never one to argue. I am sure you can fair no better from our cross exchange, but come, let us be friends once more. You must know in my heart I should never wish to displease you. You know I could never truly disagree with you; your good opinion is all that matters to me."
"These are kind words indeed, but entirely unnecessary," he replied slightly bemused by her clearly well-rehearsed monologue. Even by her standards he felt she was laying it on about thick. Did she not know by now her calculated charms would have little effect on him? After a season of crossing paths in London, he was not about to start indulging her spoilt behaviour now.
She turned to face him, her jaw slack and her mouth open in a most unattractive, unladylike manner. It took her several seconds before she could comprehend the unwelcome presence of the man before her. Her eyes suddenly grew dark and her jaw tightened, her mouth forming a thin-lipped harsh line. What in god's name was he still doing here?
"You," she said the word slowly, as though unpleasant on her tongue. The singular word was dripping with distain; Montague could not fail to misinterpret her displeasure.
It was then that the penny dropped. He realised her apparent apology for her earlier behaviour was not meant for him. He looked towards her, witnessing the red flush of colour as it crept up her neck to her now scarlet cheeks. Was this a feminine flush of embarrassment? He almost laughed at his foolishness; no, surely this was anger in its purest form? He doubted Caroline Bingley had enough self-awareness to feel such a natural response as embarrassment. He did not have to ponder the above observation for long before she exploded;
"Am I to forever find you skulking about this house in rooms to which your presence is neither desired nor looked forward to?"
He could not help himself, he found himself grinning at her ridiculousness.
"Not that the matter is any of your concern," he began schooling his features. "It would appear I have found myself in such a position that I shall be remaining at Pemberley for another few days. I have already spoken to your brother with regards to his... little problem, to which I have agreed to render my services. Why should I not take full advantage of what country living also has to offer? It would seem you are most fortunate, since it would appear you have quite the habit of seeking me out."
"How dare you imply that I..."
She stopped midsentence as the true object of her affection strode into the room. She felt her chest tighten upon seeing his handsome appearance. Lord why must he always see her angry and mid argument! He wore an evening jacket of deep royal blue with silver detailing alongside grey trousers. His skin was clear and bright, his hair slightly damp from his evening toilet, such a thought was enough to almost bring on palpitations.
"I see the two of you are well acquainted," he observed dryly crossing the room to pour himself a drink.
"I am sure Miss Bingley and I shall be firm favourites," Montague replied casting Caroline a rather satisfied glance.
Darcy instantly picking up the true meaning behind his reply could not help but smirk. "How could one not."
Caroline witnessing their exchange could feel her blood boiling. Darcy was mocking her alongside that insufferable man!
Thankfully, for all present, the rest of the party arrived, and with-it the room became filled with Louisa's constant bright chatter focused on no real topic in particular. Bingley's need to gossip like a fish wife was also most welcome, as he began enthusiastically retelling a story that his valet had told him earlier involving a particular farm hand. Both siblings spoke non-stop which Montague for once could not be more thankful for. He sat to the right of Louisa, simply nodding when he felt it correct to do so, it appeared the woman did not need verbal encouragement.
From this safe position he glanced between his host and Miss Bingley. How could he have missed something so obvious! The girl looked at him like a love sick pup! So, the rehearsed monologue from earlier was intended for their host obviously. He watched Darcy, who for all intents and purposes was corned by the dark hair girl, as she focused all her attention on his person. How long had the girl believed herself to be in love with him?
He frowned slightly at the sickenly obvious display. Surely Miss Bingley knew better than to act so blatantly amongst company? Then again she had made quite the spectacle of herself in London fawning over his friend Lord Colville. He had chastised her behaviour in passing when attending the Bingley's final ball of the season. Even then, the girl had shown her true ambition. Her single minded determination to attract the Viscount had been quite uncomfortable to witness. He wondered if the girl would fair better in her endevour at securing Mr Darcy, for her attention had been most unwelcome to his friend; whom it was clear to all had lost his heart quite entirely to another. He smiled to himself as he thought of his friend and the sweet natured Miss de Bourgh, such happy news their union would bring. He could only hope Colville would hurry up and ask the girl to marry him.
A false peel of girlish laughter caught his attention once more bringing his frown back to Miss Bingley. Her eager smiles, high pitched laugh and affected manners were almost laughable upon observation. Yet laugh at her Montague could not.
He watched Darcy closely. The gentleman it appeared was unmoved by such undivided attention from the lady. She may not have been his favourite companion, but even Montague could not deny visually she was something to be highly admired, an attribute that was enough for most men.
Darcy's eyes did not pass over her figure once, nor did he look upon her face as he gave one word replies to her eager attempts at conversation. Montague almost felt sorry for the woman, but at the same time he felt an unusual pang of vexation at her obvious play for Mr Darcy. The girl was ambitious indeed if she had set her cap at such a man. Of course, a woman such as Caroline Bingley had her eye on being mistress of an estate such as Pemberley. It made perfect sense when one considered ladies of society in general. Darcy was indeed an attractive prize to any young woman. However, Montague could not help but feel a little disappointed that Miss Bingley, who seemed to possess more backbone and intellect than most women, was rendered just as daft as the next lady when presented with such a man.
No, the gentleman did not even look at her. He smiled to himself at such a realisation.
"What do you think of my plan? For I think it to be most excellent indeed. Just say the word and I shall send the invitation directly."
Montague turned to focus his attention back to Charles. "You mean to invite your cousin to London as your guest?"
"Yes, do you not think it a jolly good idea? Perhaps this way, through my getting to know him better and vice versa, we can discuss the issue as gentleman."
"Charles do you really think such a scheme wise?" Darcy asked. "Inviting such a man into your home, a man who for all intents and purposes wishes to take to take the very home from underneath you?"
"Oh, do not be so dramatic Darcy! Montague what say you to such a plan? Are you as fastidious as my good friend here or can you see the merits of my idea?"
"I must admit, I had myself been pondering the advantage of taking a trip to Scarborough to meet with the gentleman directly. However, inviting him to London, showing that we respect his opinion and validate his potential claim, it may not be such a bad idea. I for one, wish to know more of the gentleman, for until I do so I am unable to propose how best to deal with the situation. I think it a very good idea indeed."
"Capital, capital," Bingley cried, pleased with himself for such a suggestion. He looked to his friend who merely nodded as he began to discuss particulars with Montague. Sometimes Charles wished his friend would give him more credit. It was true, he was not as sharp of mind nor as resolved in character; but he was not as naive as he believed Darcy thought him to be. Perhaps if he could deal with his cousins claim quickly and to his advantage, Darcy would finally start treating him as more equal than in need of his protection.
The three-gentleman continued to discuss the above matter until the bell rang to announce dinner. Darcy turned to his sister, taking her arm to escort her in to dine. To Caroline's horror her brother, so engrossed in what Montague was saying simply followed them, taking the lawyer with him! Her sister and Mr Hurst then followed at the rear leaving Caroline standing quite forgot in the drawing room.
Had the gentleman lost all sense of common decency? She stomped her foot. How dare her brother neglect his duties. She did not expect much from Montague, he was no more than hired help after all.
"Since when was it custom to dine with the help?" She muttered to herself as she moved through to the dining room alone. Not only had the gentleman entirely overlooked her presence; she sulked, for she was also rather certain that Darcy had paid no attention to her carefully planned attire whatsoever.
