Hello lovely people!

Two in one week, aren't we lucky!

Apologies for the irregular posts. Work has been rather crazy and I finally managed to take some time off and got married! We spent a lovely two weeks back home in Scotland, with a small group of friends and family in a little castle then wandered around the Scottish Highlands, eating seafood and picnicking on white sand beaches with just myself and my new husband present. It was sheer bliss!

Sadly, back to normality and so much work I do not know how I will manage. I will try moving forward to be more regular with the updates for this one!

Y x

Montague could not help but come to the conclusion that the current ensemble of Pemberley house guests made rather an odd collection of people.

The man of the house was all that was to be expected, rather stiff, well-educated and of sound mind. His sister, although entirely charming, was exactly as all young daughters from the landed gentry were conditioned to behave; rather too quiet and too docile in character to spark any interest or bring vivacity to conversation. He had tried to engage with Miss Darcy having been seated to her left though the task was not easy. The girl was very pretty in the common way, with dark blonde hair, fair skin and watery blue eyes. They spoke of London, of preferring ton to the country, briefly of a common acquaintance, finally settling on the safe topic of music. Although the girl did her best, he quickly grew tired of her smiles and blushes and both returned their focus to their respective plates.

Mr and Mrs Hurst's attendance was quite the conundrum. He took a great deal of pleasure watching the oddly mismatched couple who despite their opposite natures, seemed entirely happy in the company of the other. The only reason Montague could conclude to their being invited was the simple extension of generosity for her being Bingley's elder sister. He witnessed no real exchange between Mr Hurst, Darcy or indeed his own brother-in-law. The gentleman did not speak during dinner, far too engaged in the pursuit of eating; however perhaps he simply did not feel the need to engage when his wife spoke more than enough for both of them. Mrs Hurst had no issues when it came to conversing, all topics were open for discussion, all thoughts and views enthusiastically shared. Under normal circumstances he would detest such a dinner companion, but in a room were conversation was strained and not forthcoming he was glad of her cheerful easy nature.

He had known from their very first meeting in town that Mr Bingley and himself would never be on friendly terms; yet somehow this juvenile, rather naïve chap had become one of Mr Darcy's closest friends and valued confidante. The mind simply boggled when one tried to find similarities between such a pair. He was not the only man to question their steadfast alliance, he knew Lord Colville had pondered at the pairing also. Yet who were they to judge? So, opposite the men appeared to be, perhaps this was the very key to their successful friendship? Despite his obvious shortfalls, Montague could not help but like the fellow.

Then of course there was the younger sister. He had first seen Miss Bingley at a recital in Vauxhall Gardens. At the time they had not been formally introduced, yet he had admired her appearance greatly. It was rare for a woman to spark his interest from appearance alone, yet he could not help but he drawn to her dark hair and refreshingly tall figure.

As was his habit, he had observed her from afar, building his opinion of her character through observing her interactions and overall manner. Observation was his true ally; it was a skill which served him well in practice and allowed him to believe in his gut instincts without too much deliberation.

It had not taken long for him to determine that Miss Bingley was a spoilt, upstart young woman who would do well to know her place in society. What a pity he had thought, what a waste. During the rest of the season their paths had crossed several times, introductions were made but it was clear neither of them held the other in high opinion. To her he was a mere solicitor, to him she was a manipulative social climber.

He had watched the practised smiles, her scathing remarks, and the rolling of her eyes in exasperation when she believed herself unobserved. He had found her two-faced behaviour rather amusing! He had watched her eyes light up when she spoke to Lord Colville and witnessed her whole demur practically purr when alongside her sought after Mr Darcy. Overly loud and entirely attention seeking, the girl was in her element when centre of attention. He did not doubt for a moment she would be vicious to anyone who dare attempt to steal her thunder.

He causally continued to observe her at the opposite end of the dinner table, to the right of Darcy, her face tilted towards the gentleman as she looked upon him with adoration. Regardless of her faults she was a vision in that dress. Darcy was a fool if he did not notice how pleasing her appearance, or the fact it had been quite clearly orchestrated with his approval in mind.

He sipped his wine, nodding along with Mrs Hurst's mindless chatter, as he watched the girl place her hand rather too brazenly on Darcy's forearm. Surely Darcy was not such a simpleton as to not be aware of the girl's ambitions? Even if he was, surely, he would not encourage such behaviour? Darcy showed no preference towards the girl, but perhaps in private this was a different matter? He would not put it past Caroline to trap the gentleman using less than moral methods if needs be; but Darcy! Well, the gentleman just did not seem the sort to toy with ladies based on primal desires. If he had not seen Miss Bingley's single-minded attention towards the Viscount, he may have believed some encouragement from the gentleman, however when enticed by money and status, he believed the girl to be quite capable of ruining her own reputation.

He signed watching her. Although he disliked her attitude and pompous nature, he did not take pleasure in her making such an easy spectacle of herself. Her brother it seemed paid her behaviour no heed. Why did her brother not take her more firmly to hand? The most disappointing aspect of her behaviour was the fact that she did at least appear intelligent. Her clever remarks though often mean spirited, were quick and observant. Her brothers' personal papers were kept in flawless detail, an attribute he said belonged to her hand alone. He was certain the sister would be most displeased if she found out he knew it was her doing. It was this realisation which left Montague feeling most aggrieved. The men she persistently persued would not appreciate a woman of sharp intellect. Oh true, men did not want silly wives, but they also did not wish for a woman who would challenge and best them at every move. No doubt she would learn her lesson, and by then it would be sadly too late.

Dinner was of course a grand affair, with more dishes than even an assembly of twelve men together could ever hope to finish. The pheasant was excellent, shot only the day before by their host, served with a blackcurrant and red wine sauce. Having arrived directly from his stay at Matlock, Montague was getting far too accustomed to rich and decadent dining. Every meal was a joy and, being a man exceedingly fond of eating, he tackled each meal time with great relish. He would need to be careful otherwise he would be in serious need of a visit to his tailor. Long gone were the days of sitting in the shared dining hall of his Inn of Court fighting for second helpings. So much had happened in only three years. He was now not only successful, he was intimate with several of the highest social standing families in London. Evenings to the theatre, balls, dinners and private parties, never before had his social calendar been in such demand. Although not everyone relished in his company, there were plenty Miss Bingley's to be found, he had excelled in his chosen profession and his family name still held some sway. The last two years had been but a blur of activity, his acceptance to join the bar alongside the continued influence of his influential patrons found him well and truly in demand. Last winter he had even purchased his own town house in Mansfield Street. At twenty seven, and all through his own hard work and study, he was allowed to feel most self satisfied with his achievements; even if truth be told this last year had been utterly exhausting.

"Perhaps Darcy would be so kind as to invite Miss Bennet and her family to dine at Pemberley before they depart? I can not tell you how much I enjoyed seeing her again. Never have I been as happy as the time we spent in Hertfordshire. Montague do you know the county? Marvellous place, just marvellous. Never have I met with kinder people nor may I add prettier ladies. Speaking of Hertfordshire, perhaps I should also discuss with you another business matter, for their is a property I have the opportunity to buy called Netherfield..."

"Oh for heaven's sake Charles," Caroline cried, banging her wine glass loudly against the table. "Is there not enough to discuss with Mr Montague without dragging up that insufferable topic? Netherfield is a family matter which must be discussed accordingly. Must you air dry all of our business for everyone to hear?"

She looked towards Darcy, hoping he would weigh in to stop this line of discussion. He had been just as keen as herself to remove Charles from Hertfordshire, least he not forget that. She eyed him sharply.

"I... what I mean is, perhaps that is a topic best suited to be discussed at another time?" Darcy offered, uncomfortable under Caroline's fierce gaze. He had long felt guilty of his involvement in separating Charles from the elder Miss Bennet, the less that was said on the subject the better. He had only just been reacquainted with Elizabeth through sheer utter luck! Heaven help him, he desired no excuse to make her think ill of him again. Not when he was doing all in his power to prove to her he could be civil and attentive.

"I think having the Gardiner's and Miss Bennet to dine is an excellent suggestion, perhaps Georgiana you would be so kind as to write a letter of invitation? I would be more than happy to deliver it to the Inn at Lambton during my morning ride."

"I would be happy to do so brother."

"Capital, capital well that is all settled."

"It is such a pity," Caroline spoke coolly, "for I know Darcy, how much you dislike large dining parties. Do not let my selfish brother force your hand into inviting even more unwanted guests to Pemberley." She looked up locking eyes with Montague. "My brother it seems cannot help himself when it comes to placing his desires above that of all else present. I am sure Darcy; you cannot rejoice in the prospect of having a tradesman from Cheapside partake in an evening meal in this great hall? Imagine what your good uncle the Earl of Matlock would say, if he was expected to break bread with such a man. I promise I shall not speak a word of it to Lady Catherine, for you and I both know what her reaction would be. I mean really Charles; how can you be so insensitive and entirely inappropriate all but in the same breath? To subject us all once more to such backward, common..."

"That is quite enough Miss Bingley," Darcy spoke solemnly. "I have already said I am more than happy to offer the invitation. As such the subject is now closed, and I would be most grateful if you kept much of your thoughts and feelings on the matter to yourself." He rose from his chair.

"Perhaps if the gentleman are ready, we may retire to the billiards room?"

How dare he! How bloody dare he, she fumed sipping on her third sherry. Eleven o'clock had come and gone and still the gentleman had not returned to the drawing room. What the devil was Darcy playing at acting with such blatant disregard to the ladies here present? As usual she had stuck closely by Georgiana's side. Caroline had spent a good hour subtlety casting down Miss Bennet and her family, in the hope that Miss Darcy would soon see them for what they truly were. The girl did not say much, but then again when did she ever say anything of interest? However, she could listen, so Caroline continued in her malicious exchange, entirely ignorant of the uncomfortable looks cast between Miss Darcy and her sister.

Louisa had tried in vain to shift the conversation to something more palatable, but Caroline it seemed was not to be swayed. Louisa did not like her sister when her mood was in such a state. She was cruel and vicious; she and Georgiana did not even know where to look it had all become so unsavoury. Why did her sister and her petty nature always end up spoiling what was otherwise a lovely evening? She glanced at the clock; it was well after eleven. Neither wonder the men stayed away, why would they wish to come back? Her sister had practically glared down their host, called her brother out and had been unfathomably rude to Mr Montague the whole evening. She knew her own husband only tolerated her sister to keep her happy, the other gentleman however owed her no such courtesy.

Snapping at the wait staff Caroline had her sherry glass refilled. Louisa frowned; she did not believe her sister needed anymore to drink.

"You know, it is bad enough I am chastised and sent to spend my evening alongside my sister, but I must say Miss Darcy I believe your brother has treated me very ill. Oh, do not think for a moment I blame him, yet even you must see that his behaviour has only began to be in question following his renewed acquaintance with a certain country nobody. She is a most artful and devious woman, for why else would Darcy suddenly neglect me so?" She took another sip from her glass, not caring one jot that the room had slightly began to sway.

"Caro, perhaps that is enough sherry? I for one found my glass rather potent."

"Oh, hush Louisa, since when did you play the role of mother? As you can see it is only you two present, for apparently the men are happily engaged elsewhere. Heaven knows being married to you would drive any man to drink. Perhaps that husband of yours is to blame? Only too happy to take any opportunity to be free of you for a few hours." She laughed cruelly pleased to see the pained look upon Louisa's face.

Georgiana worried her hands in her lap, where was her brother? Surely Caroline would not speak so in front of the gentleman? She was unsure what to do. Clearly the woman was drunk of all things! Summoning all her courage she addressed both ladies;

"Forgive me, but it has been a rather long day. I believe I must retire for the evening. Mrs Hurst, I plan to take a trip to the milliners tomorrow morning, perhaps you would like to join me?"

Louisa looked towards the young girl and gave a small smile at her thoughtfulness. She had already been trying to think up ways to avoid her sister's wrath tomorrow, heaven knows she was bad enough without adding a sore head from drink.

"I would like that very much. If that is the case, then I too shall call it a night."

"And what of me? What if I do not wish to retire? Darcy is not yet back. He would be most displeased if I were not to be found waiting on his return. I wish to see Darcy and I know he..."

"That is quite enough Caroline," came a stern voice from the doorway. Louisa smiled upon seeing her husband enter the room. She reached out her hand which he took, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news ladies, but it would seem the evening has come to a natural end. Darcy's steward took him away earlier and it would appear the matter will take a bit more effort to resolve than first believed. With this in mind, dear wife, may I escort you to your chambers? I find myself most fatigued this evening, not to mention the veal has also left me with the most atrocious indigestion."

Caroline sat, seething, as the two other ladies said their goodbyes and began readying to take their leave. How dare Darcy neglect her so. Business or not, how could he do this to her? He had just left her, with not even a goodbye! She had been nothing but attentive towards him all evening. She had laughed, smiled, apologised as she always intended, and practically hung on his every word. Several times she had placed her hand across his forearm, not once did he remove it. Was this not sign enough that he encouraged her advances?

She stood, slightly unsteady, the effects of the alcohol clearly taking their toll. Goodness she never allowed herself more than one glass, two perhaps if stretched out over an entire evening. She let out a sudden giggle.

Louisa glanced at her husband then to her sister. Nodding silently Mr Hurst took hold of Caroline's elbow, steading her where she stood. "Sister, allow me to escort you also, for I fear the day has been quite tiresome and you are in need of a good night's rest."

For once Caroline did not even attempt to argue, allowing her brother-in-law to guide her from the room and up the stairs while her sister also took her other arm. She knew they would think she was foxed, yet she did not care one jot. Why was it that nothing ever seemed to go in her favour?

Upon reaching her rooms, she dismissed Agatha, refusing to allow her to help her undress. She was in no mood to be fussed over. She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher by her wash stand and flopped upon her bed. Her beautiful gown was creased and pulled around her. She felt her eyes water. He hadn't even given her one compliment on the expensive, beautifully crafted garment. She ran her hand over the silk, so smooth and cool against her skin. She had once heard him say that he favoured a deep red within his own wardrobe. How foolish she felt going to such trouble when it was not even appreciated. Her head felt too fuzzy, she closed her eyes; perhaps sleep would make it all better.

Caroline woke to a dry mouth and a room cloaked in darkness. She had fallen asleep fully clothed upon the end of her bed. She stood and walked towards the window; it must still be the small hours of the morning. A single candle upon her dressing table was aflame, she took it and lit two more, filling the room in a soft warm light. The room felt chilled, for the fire was dying in the grate. She walked across the room and pulled sharply on the bell. She needed out of this blasted dress and there was no way she could unhook the tiny buttons which ran the full length of her spine on her own. Oh, why had she been so silly earlier and dismissed Agatha!

She sat at the vanity and began the tedious process of unpinning her hair. It fell in loose curls about her shoulders, heavy yet entirely comforting. Manoeuvring her arms behind her back she managed to undo three of the very top buttons but the rest were simply impossible. Where in the devil was the maid? She stood abruptly and rang the bell once more, her sudden movement giving her a little head rush. Oh dear, it seemed she was not quite past the effects of her sherry indulgence, however the room no longer spun uncontrollably so that was a good sign.

She staggered back slightly and let out a small giggle. If she did not know herself better, she would have thought herself quite foxed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"You, my dear are utterly foxed!" She giggled at her reflection. "Shame on you," she smiled wagging her finger at the laughing reflection.

Where was the maid? Surely someone was still awake? She went to the door and opened it, looking down the corridor. "Agatha," she called in a quiet singsong voice; "Agatha..."

There was no reply. "Agatha it is me, Miss Bingley, would you please come back for I cannot undo all the buttons. Also I would very much like a piece of walnut cake."

Before she knew not what she was doing Caroline was walking along the corridor, fumbling as she made her way to the landing below. Suddenly she stopped.

"Someone has stolen my shoes!" She remarked wide eyed noticing her feet to only be clad in stockings. She paused, turning her ankle this way and that, puzzled by the freedom of not wearing slippers.

"Agatha do come quick, for I seem to have lost my shoes."

It was then she saw it, light escaping from under the door of Darcy's study. Heaven's he was still awake! She walked silently towards the door and listened. There were no voices, no sound to be heard. Did that mean he was on his own? She stood like that for several minutes, her face pressed against the wooden door. Finally, she heard what she could only assume to be a sigh from within. Poor Darcy, working so late into the evening, he truly was a paragon of all that was good. Surely, he would not wish to spend the whole evening on his own? Lord knows she hated being on her own. It was hard being on one's own.

Fuelled by drink and a light-headedness which can only be ascribed to believing oneself in love; she opened the door, stepped inside and closed it firmly behind her. She leaned against the door, her hair loose and cascading in wild curls over one shoulder. She looked towards the gentleman seated at the desk, his broad shoulders visibly tensing as he drank in her most inappropriate appearance.

"What in the devil do you think you are doing!" he cried.