On those mornings when you wake up with a hangover, there are only three thoughts which your brain is conscious enough to process - 'Where the hell am I?', 'What did I do last night?' and 'I am never going to drink again.'

A quick glance around the room reassured me that I was alone and in my own bed. Phew. We were off to a good start.

I sat up cautiously, wincing as I did so, and reached for the glass of water that I always kept on my bedside table. Taking a hearty swig, I did my best to piece together what had happened last night...

"Come on, Ellie! Come out with us. It's the last night before uni starts – we've got to do something fun!" my sister Lisa had urged. "I just heard about this new club that just opened in the city. Raoul knows the bouncer and he's promised to get us all on the guest list for tonight."

Lisa had turned eighteen and my parents were thrilled that they could no longer be held responsible for her choices. There were four of us girls in the family but from the start, Lisa had always been the wild one. Having spent the last three years sneaking into clubs with a fake ID and drinking illegally, you would have thought that Lisa would have been over the nightclub scene by her eighteenth. On the contrary, she was delighted to be able to do these things with the Government's permission – even though not having it had never stopped her before.

Being 20 and 23 now, my older sister Jenna and I no longer thought of clubbing as a novelty. Jenna was in her fifth year of a medical degree and preferred spending quiet nights in her apartment, curled up with her textbooks and her cat.

I was in my last year of an Arts degree and while I enjoyed the occasional night out on the town, I had to grown appreciate the peace of nights in too. I'd recently decided to move out of home and into on-campus housing with my best friend Charlotte. We didn't have much space and it was furnished with secondhand goods from charity shops, but it was our first real step towards independence and we were both immensely proud.

I hesitated. "I don't know, Lisa. Seeing that there won't be a lot of sleep in my life once uni starts, I was kind of hoping to have an early night."

My sister snorted dismissively. "You're getting old, aren't you?"

I refused to take the bait. "We're all getting older, aren't we? You'll understand where I'm at in a few years."

Lisa was not known as the most manipulative member of our family for nothing. She swiftly changed her tactics. "So I saw Peter in a bar the other day," she said casually, as she checked her reflection in my bedroom mirror. "He had his arm around this cute little blonde. It's good to see that he's going out and having fun, unlike someone else whose name I shan't mention."

I tried not to react but couldn't help gritting my teeth at her words. Peter was my ex-boyfriend. We'd dated for four years and in everyone's mind (well, at least in my mother's and his), we were the perfect couple. It was assumed that we'd get married one day and I have to admit, I was probably thinking we would be. One day, that is.

But I sure as hell wasn't expecting a proposal on my 20th birthday. We'd gone out to a Thai restaurant that we both loved and then for drinks at a nearby pub. The evening passed quickly and it wasn't long before we were outside my front door – this was while I was still living at home, obviously.

"Thanks for a great evening," I said, tiptoeing so that I could give him a kiss.

"You're welcome," he said with a smile. "Good night."

And with that as our farewell (or so I thought), I opened the door and was about to walk inside, when Peter called my name. Turning around, I was stunned to find him kneeling on the front step with a small square box in his hand.

"I forgot to give you your real birthday present," he said, his eyes sparkling.

I cautiously opened the box and found a heavy diamond solitaire inside. I stared at Peter in astonishment. Did he really think that this was the kind of jewellery that I'd go for? And then suddenly it hit me. It was an engagement ring.

I was in my second year of uni and by no means did I feel ready to accept his proposal. Not at that stage, anyway. So I gently tried to explain that I wasn't ready to get married right then but maybe in a few years...maybe after we'd both graduated. I wasn't prepared for Peter's reaction.

He immediately lost his temper and began ranting at me, complaining that I'd led him on. It wasn't until recently that I'd discovered it had actually been my mother who had been leading him on. Apparently she'd been dropping hints that he should propose for the past couple of years. She'd made him believe that I was ready to get married and would drop out of uni if he gave me that opportunity.

Mother never had been excited by my degree. She had never been able to understand (and still didn't) why I was doing it. In her mind, an Arts degree offered no prospects. There was no opportunity to meet a rich man I could settle down with – the average Arts student spent their dosh on textbooks and beer. It wouldn't lead to a renowned or respected career like Jenna's or Mary's.

Our middle sister Mary was an accomplished musician and studying at the respected Conservatorium of Music. She was something of a prodigy, having mastered the likes of Mozart and Tchaikovsky before she'd reached her sixth birthday. Mother saw Mary's gift as compensation for her plain looks and introverted personality. She might not have the beauty to attract a wealthy husband – but with a promising future as a concert pianist, she would never have to worry about being poor.

Therefore, in a sick, twisted kind of way, I could understand why Mother had tried to marry me off, although I wasn't even a legal adult in some countries. I knew that her intentions had been good. But this hadn't stopped me from turning Peter down. And to my surprise, he'd instantly broken up with me.

I'd walked inside the house, only to be instantly accosted by Mother and my sisters who'd been unashamedly eavesdropping on the entire conversation.

Mother had vowed that she could never show her face in Vaucluse, where Peter's family lived, again. She then urged me to call Peter and beg for his forgiveness and threatened to disown me if I didn't.

Fortunately, my father, who had been calmly sitting on the couch and reading the paper through Mother's outburst, decided to speak up.

"Ellie," he said gently. "It seems as though we have a problem here. Your mother will never speak to you again if you don't marry Peter. And I, on the other hand, will never speak to you again if you do."

I'd always been my father's pet. I was the only of his four daughters who loved history as much as he did. Dad had been a professor at Cambridge when he'd been younger. He then went to Sydney on a holiday with some friends and promptly fell in love with a girl whom he'd met at Bondi Beach – my mother. There was a difference of 20 years between them, which would seem a little creepy to some. But despite all odds, they'd made it work and he'd ended up moving to Sydney.

Dad had never once said so during the time that we'd dated, but I knew he hadn't liked Peter.

I hadn't seen Peter since the night we'd broken up and was somewhat miffed to hear that he had apparently already moved on. It had only been a few months after all.

Lisa could tell she'd won and she smiled triumphantly. She rifled through my wardrobe and tossed a little black dress at me. "I'll give you 10 minutes to get dressed and then we're out of here!"

I groaned as I thought about just how much we'd been drinking last night. I'd started to lose count after the fifth or sixth tequila shot. Jenna was a lightweight drinker and had given up after two. I was starting to wish I'd followed her example.

My head was throbbing painfully and my stomach felt like it was burning. I slowly got out of bed and shuffled to the communal bathroom. Thankfully, no-one else was there. I didn't stop to think why. I just threw up.

An agonising 20 minutes later, I was back in my room and was struggling to pull the blinds shut when Charlotte walked in. She looked annoying awake and perky, which surprised me, since Charlotte was usually not a morning person.

"Hey, Ellie!" she said cheerfully, reaching over and helping me snap the shade shut. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have a tute right now?"

I stared at her blankly for a moment. She must have understood my pained expression because she gently turned me around so that I was facing the clock on my wall.

All of a sudden, it made sense to me – Charlotte looked perky and awake because it was already 12:15pm! And she was right – I had a history tutorial on the other side of campus...which had started 15 minutes ago.

If it had been a lecture, I would have opted to skip it, even if it was the first one of a new semester. But a tute was a different story – attendance was mandatory and rolls were marked. You couldn't pass a subject without attending at least 80% of the tutes. There was no way that I could afford to miss this. Oh, shit.

Charlotte grasped the situation quickly and kindly made me a cup of strong black coffee while I frantically grabbed some random clothes and made a dash for the bathroom. I took the fastest shower of my life and groaned as I looked at the outfit I'd assembled – orange T-shirt, black mini, purple undies, white bra. I looked as though I'd picked out my outfit in the dark. But it was too late to get changed.

I gulped down the coffee quickly, even though it was far too hot, grabbed a notebook and pen and ran for my life.

It was a quarter to one by the time I'd reached the classroom where the tute was to be held. I'd mistakenly gone to the wrong building and had to double back when I'd realised my error. I knocked cautiously on the door and opened it to find eight of my fellow classmates staring at me. I suppose I was probably was quite a sight. But I was too distracted to think about that.

Because standing in the middle of the room was the hottest guy I'd ever seen. And from the frown on his face and the pen in his shirt pocket, I realised that this was my new tutor. Oh, crap. What a way to make a first impression.

Author's Note: I've been a long-time fan of Pride and Prejudice but this is the first time I've ever tried to write a story for this fandom. As you're probably aware by now, this is a modern day fic and it's set in Sydney, Australia. This story is not a strict retelling of P&P – e.g. Peter is Mr Collins and he's not related to Ellie. He may appear later in the story, though. I've also gotten rid of Kitty – I didn't feel that her character would add much to this story.

Reviews and constructive criticism would be most welcome – I'd love to hear what you're thinking of this!