Through the haze of sleep Caroline was vaguely aware of a voice calling to her. She opened her eyes and sat up abruptly. For a moment she felt puzzled; the room, most foreign to her, was filled with late morning sun and a young maid she did not recognise stood at the foot of her bed.

"Oh, miss you are awake," the unknown girl remarked, nodding far too enthusiastically at such a time of day for Caroline's taste. "One moment, for I am to inform the master as soon as you awoke." Without another word she scuttled off, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Through bleary eyes Caroline scowled at the girls departing figure. The master? It took a moment for her situation to dawn on her; snippets of the trials of yesterday flashed before her eyes. From the horrid altercation with Alfred, to then sharing all her most guarded secrets with Montague. For him to finally know every truth to which she kept so well hidden. Regardless of those unpleasantries, her cheeks flushed with warmth as she recalled Cedric's words and their rather heated exchange. His kiss made her feel as though her body would burst aflame. It was illogical and unplanned, yet she rejoiced in the feeling.

Since a girl of sixteen she had spent many an hour imagining what it might be like to be kissed by the fashionable young men of the ton, Darcy included. She was certain that such sensations could not hold a candle to how she felt when in the arms of Cedric. She paused, replaying his words that meant so much to her;

"I do not wish to own you. I am yours; can you not see that?"

Oh, if only she could believe such words to be true, but in the cold hard light of day she worried that they were merely just that. Words. Words simply said in haste, clouded by passion and their raised tempers. Could she really trust such a declaration?

She lay back against the pillows. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the decor of the room was more than tolerable. Who would have thought Cedric possessed such good taste? Unless of course he had been assisted by some willing female. She felt herself scowl. No, such a thought did not appeal to her. Sucking in her cheeks she looked about the room once more. No, upon deeper reflection the wallpaper was not quite the right shade of lilac and the curtains were in actual fact most shocking.

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself. She could not deny it anymore. He was infuriating, arrogant and often openly chastised her behaviour; but she cared for him. Far more than she should. Oh, it was not the same way she cared for Darcy, no that was quite different. She was not such a simpleton. She knew deep down that her feelings towards Darcy were no more than her own ambitions transferred onto his person. Darcy represented her ideal, the end goal to which her mother and all her hard work aspired. Marriage to Darcy meant prestige and long desired security. She worshiped him for he had saved her, he had shown her kindness when she had seen very little from other peers of the ton. Who could really blame a young girl for thinking herself to be in love?

Happiness in marriage was a thing of chance, but happiness in situation and fortune was a guarantee. Darcy embodied exactly that happy life of social acceptance she so craved. The most desired protection that she and her family would only gain from such an alliance.

Caroline had never contemplated what marriage meant in terms of feeling loved by another. To be in love with one's husband and loved in return was a concept she had not considered for herself. For was marriage not simply the only way for a woman to prosper at the end of the day? A way to out manoeuver one's opponents and triumph over them once successfully settled? Pursuing Montague would not guarantee such an outcome, he did not hold such a social standing on his own alone. The son of a second son, well, even he would be expected to secure an advantageous alliance.

Her mother had been protected by her father. That protection had grown to love, but a love allowed to grow twisted and unchecked. Without their father her mother, once so formidable and sharp, had turned upon herself resulting in her own ruin. Such a loss, such a dependency, had led to instability and pain. Caroline's greatest fear was following in those footsteps. To lose one's mind and sense of self was a fate Caroline would wish on no one. If she did not allow herself to become dependent or attach her heart in marriage, then she would be safe.

She loved Darcy's money, stature and family seat. She worshipped him like some eager pet, most desirous of its master's affection and approval. Seen simply as a man, had not touched her heart, even if she often wished it to be so.

But if she allowed herself to be swept up by Montague's words and the feelings they encouraged, where would she find herself? How exposed would she be? Could he really be happy to take her as she was? Not as his possession, not as something to be gained, and not part of any social game. He did not wish to own her; but in doing so he would entirely. She already knew that if she gave her heart to him, he would own her completely. But what would happen if she was simply not enough? The fear that he would grow to resent her sent a chill down her spine. She could not allow herself to be swept up in the moment without considering the reality of their situation. He was the nephew of an Earl. She had money yes, but she was a nobody. A nobody with a family history which would taint his reputation purely by association. His family would never except such a match. It was true he did not live his life as purely the gentleman, he had a career, clearly ambitions of his own. Would he really want to tie himself to her family? Risk such exposure to his character when his own professional ambitions were so high? Of this she could not be so sure. Nor was she certain she would be happy to resign herself to a situation within society so beneath all she had hoped for.

Montague consumed her senses; it was not only desire but an equal passion which he returned without question. He often told her how disagreeable and wretched she was, but all these things he charged her with were nothing if not true. She knew exactly how difficult her temperament could be, how spoilt and selfish she could act; but for a man to openly ignore her flaws and basically say he loved her in spite of them, was that not something insignificant?

Now with time and more clarity of mind she wondered what this truly meant. He was only the nephew of an Earl, yet there had to be some expectations that he himself would secure a socially advantageous marriage. Caroline felt slightly foolish for some of the unkind and unjust things she had said to him regarding his position. She had dismissed him and belittled him, treated him with no more curtesy than the other hired staff. She had thought him beneath her, in no way connected to the established families of ton. Of course, now she knew otherwise, but for the first time she realised that it did not matter. She had been drawn to him regardless, and now she knew of his connections, surprisingly they meant very little to her.

But she did not wish to disgrace him. Of all the cruel things Caroline had ever done or said in order to protect her own position, the one person she could not bear to hate her would be Montague. He chastised her now yes, but there was no malice or hatred in his eyes. If in time that were to be lost and vexation and regret take its place, she was not sure her heart could bear it.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She wore a simple long button-down nightdress she had accepted most unwillingly the evening before from the pretty Miss Brown. No man should possess such a young, attractive female as a housekeeper. She looked across the room. Her masquerade costume from the evening before lay draped over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. She was not entirely certain she could wear the item again. Yet what else was she going to dress in in order to return home?

At that moment the bedroom door opened, as the last person Caroline would ever have expected to see entered the room.

"What in the devil are you doing here?" Caroline asked in surprise. She felt a slight flutter of panic, for she knew how the scene must appear. She was alone and under the roof of a man who was not a close relation.

"Good morning to you too."

"What are you of all people doing here?"

"I think you would call this the offering of an olive branch, Miss Bingley." She held out a folded pile of fabric, paying no heed to the rather furious expression across Caroline's face. "I am afraid it is the best I could do on such short notice; it is far too early for anything more suitable to be obtained. Do not worry, it is actually a former day dress of Georgianna's, I doubt anything fitted to my person would have catered for a lady of your stature."

She placed the folded garment on the end of the bed and turned ready to depart. "May I suggest you hurry and dress, I dare say you should not keep the gentleman waiting. You will find us in the drawing room. Do make haste Miss Bingley. I fear Lord Colville can only keep Mr Montague entertained for so long." Caroline opened her mouth ready to question further but paused upon seeing the young woman raise her hand by means of absolution.

"Not now Miss Bingley, as you are likely aware it is early and I am in no mood to have this conversation twice. For once in your life simply do as you are told. I shall tell the gentleman you shall be joining us imminently."

She left the room closing the door softly behind her, leaving Caroline standing by the bed quite a gawk as she tried to contemplate her situation. Never before had Anne de Bourgh reminded Caroline so much of her no-nonsense mother.

hello lovely people

Very sorry for the rather tardy update. I wasn't very well for a month and then work and life and we all know the rest!

I promise I shall be getting back into this and more regular with updates again. I am starting to work part time in the office, so more commuting means more time to knock up a few chapters ;)

Oh by the way, anyone who is also interest in HP fanfic, I've started a rather self-indulgent little story which will not be very long and a one off if anyone is interested called Forget me Not... This is what happens when you reread everything in your house during lockdown, you begin to dabble!

take care Y