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Chapter Text

Sunday, July 22

“Where are Lizzie and Caroline?” Jane asked as Bing handed her into the passenger seat of the town car.

Bing tore his eyes from her face and looked around blankly. “I don’t know. Maybe they forgot what time we were leaving. I’ll go find them.”

“No, I’ll go,” Darcy offered. If he was the one to fetch them, he might be able to finagle a seat beside Lizzie rather than Caroline.

He ascended the stairs quickly and moved down the hallway of the guest wing.

“Darcy, put the laptop away. No one else is working. It’s weird, man.” His steps slowed. Was someone—it sounded rather like Caroline—addressing him from Lizzie’s room? What was this about a laptop?

“That is why I was working in my room, until you insisted I come down here. The only strange thing is that you thought it wouldn’t be weird.” Was that Lizzie’s voice? He thought so, but it was much deeper than normal, more harsh and monotonic. He hoped she hadn’t caught Jane’s cold.

Then he registered her words. Wasn’t that what he’d said to Bing last night, after he launched another of his “Let’s-make-Darcy-sociable” crusades? Lizzie was quoting him exactly, he noted with surprise, but he recalled speaking the words with more exasperated humor than she currently did.

“I thought you could use a break.”

He stepped into Lizzie’s doorway in time to see her deliver her next line. “You thought wrong,” she snapped, followed by furious typing.

“What are you doing?”

Both women jumped, their heads snapping toward him. Caroline was closer to the door, but Darcy’s eyes were for Lizzie alone. She was wearing a newsboy hat and red bowtie, of all things, along with a simple gray dress. Caroline remained seated on the bed, but Lizzie ditched her laptop and leaped about five feet forward, seemingly trying to hide something behind her back. Darcy leaned a little to his right in order to see around her. “Is that a video camera?”

“Yes,” Caroline said quickly. “We’re recording a letter to Charlotte, so she can see how Lizzie’s doing here at Netherfield. Isn’t it great that they can keep in touch that way?”

His eyes lifted to Lizzie’s face. She was wide-eyed, her hands fumbling to remove the bowtie.

“Are Bing and Jane ready for the wine-tasting tour?” Caroline continued.

“Yes. They are waiting in the town car.”

“The town car? But we’re taking your rental!”

Darcy tore his gaze from Lizzie and frowned at Caroline for her thoughtlessness. “That was when Jane was still sick. The convertible seats only four comfortably.”

“I’ll stay here,” Lizzie blurted.

“That is not necessary. The town car seats—.”

“No, it’s fine. I, um, have work to do.”

Darcy stared intently at her. There was an undercurrent in the room that he did not understand, but he knew just from looking at Lizzie that whatever she and Caroline were recording, it was not a letter to her friend. His curiosity was piqued, and in any event he had no desire to be designated Caroline’s escort for the afternoon.

He fished in his pocket, then handed Caroline the keys to the convertible. “You and the others may leave without me. My plans have changed.”

Caroline seemed ready to argue, but he gave her a stern look, and she apparently thought better of it, and said a nervous-sounding goodbye on her way out.

“May I know what you and Caroline were doing?” he asked after her footsteps had died away.

“We were…reenacting something, that’s all.”

“So I gathered. Is that a habit of yours?”

“Yes,” she said distractedly. “Yes, I, um, like to do this sometimes. It helps me, um…”.

He tilted his head as he watched her…prevaricate? That was unlike her. Caroline would, he knew, lie if it suited her purposes, but Lizzie’s bracing honesty was one of his favorite things about her.

Finally, Lizzie stopped rambling and squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, fine. Might as well have you sue me and get it over with.” That made him blink a little, but before he could think of a response she opened her eyes and continued. “I have a, um, video blog. For my thesis. We were filming tomorrow’s video.”

“And you were reenacting my conversation with Bing because…?”

“Costume theater. It gets my viewers acquainted with people I don’t show on camera.”

“I see.” He didn’t, in fact. Why would her viewers be interested in a mundane conversation between himself and Bing? He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Might I be of assistance?”

“What?”

“I thought I might lend a greater degree of verisimilitude…or would that defeat the purpose?”

“You want to be on my vlog?” A nearly hysterical giggle escaped her and quickly grew to a full chortle.

In truth, he had not been thinking of that, only of the pleasure it would be to sit with her and learn what she was working on. She was probably right—he had a professional image to maintain, and it would be best if he didn’t appear on her vlog—though he didn’t see why she found the idea so funny. Her laugh was a delightful sound, however, and knowing that he had been the one to provoke it, whatever the reason, made him chuckle along with her.

Which in turn made her stop mid-breath and stare at him. He stopped as well, and suddenly the mood in the room was as tense and awkward as ever.

“Why would I sue you?” he finally asked.

Lizzie sighed. “Because that’s what successful businessmen do when they’re mad at someone.”

That wasn’t a particularly helpful answer, though he was gratified that she recognized his success. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because…look, I like you even less than you like me, okay? And I, uh, vented about you in my videos a little. Or a lot. It was stupid of me. Now can we please just—.”

“You think I dislike you?”

She snorted. “Please. You act like you’d rather have a hernia repaired than be around me.”

That was patently untrue. “I just now volunteered to spend the morning with you, and the alternative was not hernia repair.”

She clamped her mouth shut in a way that would have been comical in other circumstances, then continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It’s obvious. The nicest thing you’ve ever said about me was that I was ‘decent enough.’”

Oh no. She heard that? Darcy’s chin tucked in toward his neck, and he wished for a wild moment that he could leave and pretend this conversation had never happened…but no, that would be the coward’s way out. Mortifying as it was, he had to face the fact that he’d spoken and she’d heard those words. Thoughtless words that—he looked at her face, tilted back defiantly but with a shadow of pain—that had hurt and angered her.

“You are one of the most attractive women I have ever known, and I was a fool to state otherwise,” he said, his tone clipped. He felt strange and uncontrolled, speaking so freely to her after weeks of attempting to hide what had seemed to him a painfully obvious fascination. He had done so in part to prevent her getting her hopes up. Now it seemed he’d succeeded all too well. “I…apologize.”

Lizzie did not acknowledge his apology but stared at him as if he’d begun to stand on his head or moonwalk in the middle of her bedroom or some other such absurdity. As he held her gaze, the rest of her words began to sink in. She had said negative things about him in her videos. She disliked him. How could she say that, when her eyes practically sparked with interest every time they had one of their debates?

He had to get away from her and think. He muttered an “excuse me” and walked quickly to his room, staring impatiently at his laptop while it powered up. Then he navigated to Google and typed in “Lizzie Bennet vlog.”

%%%

It was a miserable and unproductive day. After Darcy left, Lizzie sank down on the edge of her bed and stared at her camera for a long time before quietly packing it away. Charlotte would have to make do with the footage she’d already shot. She tried to read, but nothing held her attention. She skipped lunch without even realizing it.

Darcy knew about her videos. It was too much to hope that he’d decided they weren’t worth his time, not when he’d been so damn inquisitive about them. No, he’d certainly watched them by now. At one point, she tossed her book aside, opened her laptop, and grimly watched all 30 videos she’d posted so far, hoping they would somehow be less insulting than she remembered. No such luck. Grotesque, nauseating, obnoxious, pretentious, stuck-up, pompous—she’d spouted a freaking thesaurus about him.

She didn’t hear a peep from him all afternoon, which probably meant he was off plotting a lawsuit against her. He was going to sue her for every penny she had. At least that wasn’t much. Maybe he’d be mad enough to get her blacklisted too. Of all the people she could have insulted, she had to pick a CEO in the field she hoped to work in.

It was late afternoon, and Charlotte still hadn’t returned her calls. Lizzie watched the footage from that morning blankly. Darcy had never stepped into the camera’s view, but his words had been caught clearly. Listening without seeing him, he just sounded surprised and curious, even helpful. It was only when looking at him that she’d seen his disapproval, his judgment.

His last words—“You are one of the most attractive women I have ever known, and I was a fool to state otherwise”—she still hadn’t recovered from the shock of hearing those words while staring into his intense gaze. She wanted to shrug them off as an insincere response to the embarrassment of realizing she’d heard his earlier insult, but she couldn’t. Darcy was nothing if not bluntly honest. He had truly thought her attractive. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

Lizzie shut her laptop and walked to the kitchen. The others wouldn’t be back until late, and Stephane, Netherfield’s chef, had the day off. She was in the middle of reheating some leftover curry when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Ah. Lizzie.” Darcy paused in the doorway and stared at her. One glance told her why she’d heard nothing from him all day—he wore his cycling gear and, judging by the size of the sweat stains on his gray t-shirt, had put in a long ride.

He shifted his weight and fiddled with the straps of his helmet before tucking it under his arm, and she realized she was staring. “Darcy. Hi,” she said warily. He moved toward her, reaching into the cupboard just to her right to remove a glass and then filling it with ice water.

“There’s more curry if you want it,” she mumbled.

“Thank you. Perhaps after I shower.”

She shrugged, then turned to remove her dish from the microwave. She planned to eat in her room anyway. Dinner with just the two of them would have been awkward in any case, but after this morning…no way.

Darcy started to leave, then stopped. “Lizzie?” he said, waiting for her to look at him. “I’m not going to sue you.” He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded and left.

Lizzie moved to the doorway, watching until he was out of sight.

Chapter Text

Sunday, July 22

“All this goes to show that gentlemen are an endangered species … there is no excuse for a guy to be rude, or arrogant, or stuck-up.”

“Oh that reminds me, Darcy was walking by the house the other day. Weird.”

“There’s no excuse for him. George proves it.”

Darcy made an ugly sound low in his throat and snapped his laptop shut. In a matter of minutes, he had scrambled into his cycling gear and was stamping the pedals, devouring the distance on one of the town’s pitifully few bike paths.

He had begun this marathon of Lizzie’s videos in a penitent mood. He had insulted her. She had overheard him and, naturally, been angered and taken a dislike to him. She had made that anger public through her vlog—not the most circumspect reaction, of course, but not out of character either. Lizzie did not back down, whether the issue was Just Dance or Russian literature or Shakespeare. Frustrating as it could sometimes be, he admired that about her. Had he kept his ill-natured opinions to himself, the entire chain of events would have been avoided.

So he was prepared to be understanding, no matter what she said.

He was not prepared for the popularity of her videos—the first had almost 200,000 views!—or her blunt descriptions of the people in her life. Her comments about her mother and younger sister didn’t exactly surprise him, but airing those comments in her vlog was, to say the least, injudicious. And if she would say such things about members of her family, what might she say about him?

“Snobby Mr. Douchey.” The title of her sixth video was a play upon his name, which she had already ridiculed in an earlier video. Now the insults spewed from her. Grotesque. Nauseating. Run-the-other-way-as-if-your-life-depended-on-it. Obnoxious. Boring. Stuffy. Unbelievably rude. It was relentless, bludgeoning. Too good for us common folk. Snob. Infuriating. Lounged around all day in $5000 boxers with people he paid to be his friends because no sane human being could actually put up with him. Then she donned a newsboy hat and bowtie and disfigured him into a sneering misanthrope. How on earth did one “decent enough” from him merit all this?

She admitted at the end that this had been “a somewhat-true-to-life portrait.” Emphasis, he thought, on the “somewhat.”

“The Most Awkward Dance Ever.” Darcy braced himself for another onslaught, but this time, spurred by her viewers, she described events much more as he remembered them. She had danced little that evening until her mother’s conniving sent the bride’s bouquet her way. The annoyance she voiced on camera had been written all over her face then, matching his own when unable to avoid the garter. Dancing under the circumstances had been miserable enough. Could he be blamed for avoiding her forced attempts at small talk? Of course, he knew now that they could have fallen into a spirited dialogue on any number of topics, but she had been a stranger then, and he had never been able to converse easily with strangers. So they had passed the dance in silence.

Then she had overheard his conversation with Bing. She did not invite a partner for this re-enactment, choosing instead to repeat his insults herself. And then, for just a few seconds, she was alone on camera, hurting and speechless, and as he lingered regretfully over that image his irritation at the insults in her previous video drained quietly away.

At least, he had thought, that was the worst of it. Lizzie had begun to attract his notice soon after the Gibson wedding, and while he knew he was often silent and awkward around her, he had at least not been insulting. She disliked him still, and believed him to dislike her—she’d told him as much in her room earlier—but might not her animosity lessen, at least a little?

He should have known better. Lizzie was stubborn, as he well knew, and her best friend admitted in the next video that “Lizzie hates changing her mind.” Jane, trying to convince her to accept Bing’s dinner invitation, argued that “Bing and Darcy have been friends for years. He can’t be that unpleasant all the time … why don’t you come with me, get to know Darcy, and prove me wrong?” Lizzie’s reply: “I don’t have to get to know Darcy, and since he has no interest in getting to know me, it works out perfectly.”

“Perfectly” indeed…except that he had, despite all logic to the contrary, been interested in getting to know her.

Nor was he as successful in guarding his interest as he thought. Lydia, of all people, was the first to mention it, noting despite her hangover that he would have joined Lizzie in playing Just Dance. Charlotte and Jane went further. “Lizzie Bennet is in Denial,” they informed her viewers—in denial of his fixation with her eyes, of his enjoyment of the vigor if not coordination of her dancing.

So three of the most important people in her life had notified her of his growing attraction. How would she respond? That was shown in the next video: Lizzie laughed, proclaimed it “completely, utterly impossible,” made a motion as if to throw up…and then dropped the subject entirely. Her response was not surprising. He had known from this morning what it must be. But it was still oddly deflating, irritating.

That irritation was exacerbated as the topic turned to “swim week.” Swim teams had lately acquired painful associations for him, now made worse by Lizzie’s admission that she enjoyed eyeing and flirting with some of the men. Then, after an evening at a bar with them, and a further admission that she had gone half-hoping she would find someone as Jane had, she introduced her video with “My name is Lizzie Bennet, and last night was…surprising.”

Had she met someone? He did not think she was currently dating anyone—living in the same house with her these past weeks, he’d surely have heard if she was—but had she for a time? He watched her complaints about the boorish behavior of most of the swimmers, waiting impatiently for her to mention the one. And then there he was, effortlessly charming, effortlessly witty, effortlessly attracting Lizzie’s interest and good opinion. His name, Jane asked?

George Wickham. Darcy swore aloud.

Lizzie all but admitted to liking him. Lost herself in smiles while saying how rare a gentleman he was. Had programmed him into her phone and welcomed his texts. Hoped to see him again later in the summer. Darcy balled his hands into fists, literally shaking as he watched. His jealousy was as nothing to his rising anger and fear. He knew what Wickham was capable of.

Then came the words that inflamed him. To compare unfavorably with Wickham! The greedy, manipulative cur who…

Darcy gritted his teeth against the onrush of wind, relishing the burning of his lungs and calves. At the moment, he could have sprinted up Telegraph Hill.

George Wickham poisoned everything he touched. Darcy had watched him do it for years. He had first poisoned himself, degenerating from a carefree childhood friend into a selfish, envious, hate-filled stranger. His irresponsibility had poisoned what should have been a last, powerful act of generosity by Darcy’s father. He had poisoned Gigi, had left her shattered and emotionally alienated from those who loved her—and in doing so, had achieved his ultimate aim in poisoning Darcy.

Now he was flirting with Lizzie. Was it coincidence, or had he somehow happened upon her videos and been alerted to Darcy’s interest by her own sister and best friend?

And what if he had? Would she accept a warning? Believe him over Wickham? Of course not. Her opinion of him had been decided long ago at a tedious wedding reception, without him even realizing what happened. His opinion of her had changed from that first encounter, as he came to know and see her more clearly. Hers had not. Her good opinion, once lost, was apparently lost forever.

“Lizzie hates changing her mind,” Charlotte had said in one of the videos. He had made a terrible first impression, so he was a devil for all time. Wickham had made a great first impression, so he was an angel. Or, equally improbably, a gentleman.

Agitation fueled Darcy’s pace for mile after mile, out of town and past orchards he scarcely noticed. But agitation for him must eventually be tempered with logic, and logic made him nearly certain that Wickham’s arrival was coincidental. From the time Charlotte and Jane’s video was posted, Wickham would have had only a matter of days to find out where Lizzie lived and connect himself with a swim team bound for her hometown. Furthermore, Lizzie had mentioned only the possibility of seeing him again later in the summer. If Wickham had designs on her and a strong first impression in his favor, would he have left matters so casual?

These considerations offered him tentative relief, but he would not be easy until he had watched the rest of her videos.

Darcy pedaled another mile or two before stopping for a makeshift lunch at a farm store operated by one of the orchards. The store had several outdoor tables, and he attached his earbuds and watched Lizzie’s videos on his phone as he ate.

He promptly received further relief. Wickham had left indeed left town, and Lizzie was indifferent to it. She even joked about it, teasing her viewers for expecting anything more. That, along with the green bean gelatin monstrosity she playfully presented to the camera, improved his spirits if not his appetite. The more sobering aspects of the video and her family’s financial struggles were, however, not lost on him.

Nor was the irony of her complaints to Charlotte about job interviews a couple videos later. She hated them, she said, because “in the 20 seconds it takes for me to walk in and say, ‘Hi, my name is Lizzie Bennet!,’ they’ve already decided whether they’re going to hire me or not. It’s the most high-pressure first impression ever.”

“Higher pressure than dating?” Charlotte had asked.

“It’s way worse than dating! What you think of them doesn’t even matter. They take their pick, and you’re either it or you’re not.”

Live by the first impression, die by the first impression, Darcy thought mercilessly.

The videos continued with no mention of Wickham and hardly any of himself. She even admitted enjoying Bing and Caroline’s next party. Then Mrs. Bennet set to scheming again. He had been disgusted by her “green bean gelatin plan”—what kind of mother would attempt to strand her daughter, sans clothing, at a man’s house?—and now Lizzie confirmed his private certainty that her mother had orchestrated their extended stay at Netherfield.

So she and Jane had come. And he had apparently misunderstood everything that came after.

He didn’t want to watch her videos from Netherfield. The last few he’d watched had been a lull of sorts for him, freeing him to absorb her determination that her future work would reflect her values, her pain at the thought of eventually losing her sister to Bing, her giddiness about VidCon. Now he could only wonder bitterly what all she would find fault with, and just how annoyed or angry with him she would become.

She was angry about…well, his existence in any proximity to her, as far as he could tell from her next video. She mentioned no particular words or deeds of his, just gagged at the mention of his name and expressed her pity for “the poor woman that ends up stuck with that douchebag for life.” Darcy’s face hardened as he absorbed the insult. He was not so naïve as to believe that being with him guaranteed a woman’s happiness—life was too full of chance and unforeseen crises to guarantee any outcome—but to instead guarantee misery? That was unfair and deeply unkind.

Nor did the following scenes show Lizzie in any better light. She was as alarmed by Caroline’s interruption of her filming session as by his own interruption this morning. The prospect of himself or Bing finding her videos horrified her, and with good reason. He had grounds to sue her for slander, and anyone but Bing would balk when Lizzie revealed her mother’s scheming against his fortune. A few words from Caroline did away with Lizzie’s horror, however, and she introduced private, unconsented footage of Bing in her next video with a blithe “I wasn’t going to do this, but fates have conspired against me.”

“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and I think I crossed the line with my last video.” The words momentarily eased the heaviness of his thoughts. At least she recognized that she had been unethical. Perhaps she was capable of change after all? Darcy watched attentively, but what he saw confused him. She showed more footage of Bing, then left a voicemail for Charlotte saying they needed to delete all footage of him. What had changed her mind?

Ah. Caroline. He scowled as her appearance recalled the easy way she’d lied to him this morning. The lie was the same, that the videos were for Charlotte. He watched as Lizzie allowed herself to be persuaded, regardless of the unwanted attention Bing might receive, regardless of the very real risk to her professional future. When Bing reappeared, she told him she needed to finish her “letter to Charlotte,” thus fully buying into Caroline’s lie. Darcy replayed the video with deepening disappointment—in Caroline, yes, but mostly in Lizzie.

One video remained. He watched it with scant attention at first, then set off cycling again with the words “it’s like he’s purposely dooming himself to be alone for life” stinging in his gut.

At least it was over now: his marathon of the videos, his infatuation with Lizzie, his delusion that she returned his interest, his misapprehension of her character. And at least it had gone no further than infatuation. If he had actually fallen for her, today would have been devastating. As it was, he had only to decide what to do about her videos, and then he could put all this behind him.

He could sue her. When he remembered all that she’d said about him—by name, on the internet, to an audience numbering in the tens of thousands—he was tempted to do it. But when he considered what such a lawsuit would mean for her career and her future…

No. He could not do that to her.

What other options did he have? A cease and desist letter perhaps, formally threatening to sue her unless she stopped slandering him. The privacy of a letter appealed to him and would protect her from the more damaging consequences of a public lawsuit. But what was the point? She already knew he could sue her. Their confrontation this morning would either make her reevaluate what she put in her videos, or it wouldn’t, in which case a cease and desist letter would be useless because he’d already decided not to sue.

So what then? Do nothing and hope she changed of her own accord? Had she the capacity for that?

Darcy grunted with frustration. He pedaled on for some time, debating within himself and growing ever more dissatisfied with his options. He could, if he chose, force Lizzie to stop slandering him. But forcing her into public silence had little appeal when he knew she would privately despise him as much as ever.

It was galling that she thought so little of him. He was accustomed to being appreciated and respected, not as a matter of course but because he earned such regard from the people who mattered to him: his friends, his business associates, his employees. Even, until the Wickham debacle, from his little sister. But never from Lizzie. For her, he inspired only disgust and ridicule and scorn. The sparks, the intensity that had hummed between them these past weeks had in fact been for him alone. Only her sister’s coaxing and the inevitability of circumstance had kept her from avoiding him entirely. It was mortifying. Rankling.

But it was reality, and reality could not be reasoned with. It must be faced and dealt with. This was far from the worst he had faced. Looked at practically, he had made a fortunate escape from any worse entanglement with her. Lizzie would be better off too, for his disinterest meant Wickham would have no motive for targeting her even if he did return.

Disinterest. He could do that. He had only to remember her mockery. He had tried before to quell his interest in her, but reminding himself of her family and social class had worked only to a point. Her family and circumstances were still unfortunate, of course, even more so than he’d realized. He would scarcely have believed it possible, but based on Lizzie’s videos Mrs. Bennet was even more blatantly mercenary than he’d thought.

Jane clearly wasn’t, though. And Lizzie was something different. She was…more than he had realized. More passionate. More opinionated, not just about Russian literature but about almost everything in her life. More harsh, and not just toward himself. More…uncertain, more directionless when it came to her future. More talented—for regardless of personal feelings he could not deny the appeal and quality of her videos. More deceptive yet, paradoxically, more transparent.

Furthermore, he acknowledged, she had been more than transparent this morning. She had not lied to him about her videos as Caroline had, or as she had to Bing. Instead, she told him the truth. She admitted that she’d been unwise to abuse him in her videos, stated frankly that she expected him to retaliate, and asked for no mercy. He wondered if she had reacted that way out of courage or pride…or because she believed he had no mercy to appeal to.

No matter. He would think no more of her.

Darcy toyed as he covered the remaining distance with the idea of leaving her in suspense about whether he would file suit. Then he encountered her in Netherfield’s kitchen, and something about her expression and the tension in her frame as she regarded him made him relent.

“I’m not going to sue you.” He spoke the words and left. There. The matter was done.

Chapter Text

Sunday, July 22

He wasn’t going to sue her. Darcy had said that, then left before she could respond. Lizzie turned back to the counter and picked up her dish and glass of water, but made no move toward her room.

What now? She’d vented about him over and over in her videos, all the while hiding their existence from him. She’d told him the truth only because he caught her filming and she was a pathetic liar. Now that he’d probably watched every last insult, she wanted only, desperately, to avoid him and pretend none of it had ever happened.

Kind of hard to do when they currently lived in the same house. Kind of cowardly even if they didn’t.

It was time to stop being a coward. Time to apologize to Darcy, even if it killed her. And that was only a slight exaggeration. Choking on those words was a real possibility.

Lizzie set her jaw and started down the hallway, only to stop a few steps later with a hysterical snort. Now was definitely not the right time. He’d said he was going upstairs to shower. Knocking on his door with a swiftly-cooling bowl of curry in hand would exponentiate the awkward.

Back to the kitchen. She sat at the table mechanically spooning in her curry, dreading this apology. How would he respond? She could imagine him leveling her with that cold, disapproving stare. Or leaving the room without speaking to her. Or snapping, “Well, I would hope you’re sorry.” Or words to that effect, but with a lot more syllables. Or…oh G--, he was going to tell Bing. Of course he would. And what he would tell Bing…

Deep breaths, Lizzie.

Darcy reappeared as she finished her dinner. He hesitated briefly in the doorway, then busied himself with his own dinner. It was not until his back was turned that Lizzie could bring herself to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

He straightened and looked over his shoulder. “For what?”

Of course he would make her say it. “You know…saying crap about you in my videos?”

“Apology accepted. Thank you.”

Lizzie frowned when he promptly went back to rummaging through the refrigerator. That was all he had to say? Four clipped words? It grated, but she went on to the all-important question. “Are you going to tell Bing?”

That earned her a scowl. “I will not lie for you, Lizzie. I hate deceit above all things.”

Anger and dismay tightened her jaw. There would clearly be no reasoning with him; he’d all but announced that he hated her. But she had to try.

“I’m not asking you to lie,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m just saying, it was my idea to put Bing in my videos. Jane had nothing to do with it. You’ll see that if you watch them.”

“I know. I did.”

“Then you saw that Jane really cares for him. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’ll be devastated if he—.” Lizzie would have gone on—she was not above begging when her sister’s happiness was at stake—but Darcy forestalled her.

“Would you prefer that you and Jane tell him?”

“Yes!”

“Very well.” And without waiting for a response, he turned away to start the microwave.

Lizzie stood and brought her empty dishes to the sink, then stared frowning at him as he stood in profile. He was clearly furious with her, and his attitude of moral superiority was stronger than ever. He was, as always, unbearable…yet he was being fair about Jane. He had apologized promptly this morning when confronted for insulting her. He had watched the—she had to admit it—much worse insults in her videos, and instead of holding a lawsuit over her head or even waiting for her to apologize, he’d informed her he would not retaliate. What was she supposed to think of that?

“Thanks for not suing me.”

He looked up, hesitated, then said, “I would not have your future suffer because of an error in judgment.”

Darcy was trying to protect her future? This was beyond belief.

“Furthermore, while I cannot guarantee Bing’s reaction, he is the kindest person I know. That augurs well for you and your sister.”

“‘That augurs well?’” she managed. Seriously? She’d never even heard that one before.

His expression abruptly closed. “More fodder for costume theater, I suppose,” he snapped.

The curt words stung. Clearly he thought her insincere and callous enough to keep doing the very thing she’d just apologized for.

“I’m not going to insult you in my videos after this. I promise. I can stop doing costume theater of you if you want, or even stop talking about you at all. My viewers won’t like it, because they’re kind of weirdly obsessed with you, but whatever. I—.”

He made a derisive noise. “By no means suspend any pleasure of theirs.”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” she said, voice biting in frustration, “but I can’t stop vlogging and take the videos down! They’re going to be my thesis project. I can’t afford to throw away two months of work and start something new! All I can do is…is try to do better.”

Lizzie braced herself for another sarcastic retort, but none came. Darcy merely looked at her, long and probing and inscrutable.

“I have not asked you take your videos down,” he said finally. “I don’t care what you discuss or portray in them. Indiscretions notwithstanding, you are clearly talented in that area.”

He moved then, taking his food with him toward the door. At the last moment, he paused and turned to her. “After today, perhaps we should dispense with the illusion that either of us knows what the other is thinking.” With that, he was gone.

Well, that was cryptic.

Lizzie remained there for a few minutes before deciding that staring at the empty doorway through which Darcy had passed wasn’t actually helpful in understanding him. Shaking herself, she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then walked back to her room. She texted Jane, asking to see her when she returned from the wine tasting. Jane replied that they were about 30 minutes away.

So she waited, impatient and ever more worried. What would Bing think about the videos? She wasn’t really afraid now of his anger. If Darcy wasn’t even going to sue her, she definitely didn’t need to worry about Bing taking revenge with his surgical tools. He still might not like being in her videos, though. And what if he watched them? They were fresh in her mind after her marathon this morning. Lydia yelling “Jackpot!” when he moved into the area. Her mother’s stalking and convoluted plans. What had possessed her to put so much of that in her videos? Who could blame him if he freaked out and…?

Deep breaths again.

To distract herself, Lizzie set up her camera. Her filming session this morning felt like an eon ago now. What could she tell her viewers? She wasn’t even sure what to think about the day’s events, much less what she should tell them. Whatever she ended up posting, though, the tagline she’d filmed this morning would have to change. “My name is Lizzie Bennet, and I’ve figured out what William Darcy is good for” was definitely not getting airtime after today. Not when she obviously hadn’t figured him out at all. Not when it turned out he was good for things other than being opinionated, things like being understanding and complimenting her looks and her talents. Like protecting her from the consequences of her “indiscretions,” as he termed them.

“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and…”. And what?

“My name is Lizzie Bennet, and today is the day I eat my words,” she finally said. It seemed inadequate, and she kept the camera on, hoping for better inspiration. Then she heard footsteps approaching.

Caroline beat Jane up from the car. “Does he know about the videos?” she asked without any preamble.

“Yes.”

She sat down beside her. “What did he say?” She sounded a bit breathless.

“About you? Nothing.”

“About the videos. About anything.”

“He’s mad about the things I said, but he’s not going to sue me. The videos weren’t your idea, so I wouldn’t think he’s mad at you.”

“But he did watch them.”

“Yes.”

Caroline looked to the camera, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she got up and left.

Jane arrived in the doorway just then, sidestepping to avoid collision with Caroline before coming to sit by Lizzie. “You wanted to see me? I wish you could have come today! It was—.”

Lizzie interrupted her. “Jane, we’ve got to tell Bing about the videos.”

Chapter Text

Sunday, July 22

Bing walked back into Netherfield alone, having dropped Jane and Caroline off at the front door before pulling around to the garage. Alone, but more happy than he could ever remember. He had spent the day with two of the most important women in his life, driving free and winding from vineyard to vineyard in the bright sunlight. Caroline had, he thought, been quieter than usual, but then she had been seated behind him and Jane in the convertible, the wind preventing much conversation. That same wind had teased Jane’s hair enchantingly, and her delight in experiencing wine-tasting for the first time had fueled his own. She was delightful, lovely, and the sweetest woman he had ever known. He cared deeply for her, and after today he felt almost convinced that she cared for him too.

Almost.

That was Darcy and Caroline’s doing. “I’ve never met anyone that smiles that much” had been Darcy’s verdict after watching Jane at the Gibson wedding. Of course, he had also said she was the only pretty woman in the town, so Bing had taken his words with a grain of salt. But Darcy had persisted over the following weeks, insisting that he was being impulsive and would one day regret Jane. Caroline, on the other hand, was not worried. “Have you seen anything to show that the feelings are reciprocated?” Jane wasn’t hard to read, she insisted. “You just have to look.”

So Bing had looked. And he had seen Jane smile, just as Darcy said. Everyone she met was gifted with that sweet, luminous smile. Everyone. Bing wasn’t jealous when she smiled at other men. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He just wanted her to smile at him differently than she did at everyone else.

Like today, for instance. One of the tasting-room attendants had evidently been struck with her and had accidentally spilled wine all over her arm. Caroline had snapped at the man for his clumsiness, but Jane’s smile had not dimmed one bit as she mopped up the mess. Only after the man left had she wrinkled her nose at the smell and the stain.

Did Jane wrinkle her nose, so to speak, when she was away from him? Was Darcy right, that her mother gave her no choice but to encourage him? Bing truly didn’t think so. He just wished he could be sure.

Once in the house, Bing left the wine he and Caroline had purchased in the wine cellar, then stopped by Darcy’s room to return his car keys. Darcy accepted them with a nod but seemed not to want to talk, so Bing let him be. He was not ready for the day to end, though, so he moved on to the guest wing, hoping Jane would join him for a movie.

In the guest wing, he followed the sound of Jane’s voice to Lizzie’s room a couple doors down. The women sat at the end of Lizzie’s bed.

“Hey, Lizzie,” he said after seating himself beside Jane. “It’s too bad you couldn’t join us today. You missed some great wines, but we bought some Sauvignon Blanc that you can try later.” He looked up then and saw that Lizzie’s camera was still on. “Oh, hi Charlotte! Wow”—he looked back to Lizzie—“this is a really long video letter.”

“It isn’t actually a video letter,” Jane began, but Lizzie interrupted.

“No, let me tell him.” She took a deep breath. “Bing, I…I have a video blog.”

“Oh! Well that sounds like fun. But I can leave if you’re in the middle of—.”

“I’ve had it since April. And the last few weeks…I’ve been filming it here.”

He was confused. She’d said that like it was a confession. “Lizzie, you’re our guest. You can treat the house as yours. It’s fine if you film your videos here. I know Caroline will feel the same way.”

“But you’re in them! I let you think they were letters to Charlotte, but they weren’t.”

Bing’s eyes cut to Jane. It was she who had first told him they were video letters.

“I mean, Jane actually was filming a letter to Charlotte that time,” Lizzie clarified, speaking more and more rapidly, “but Charlotte also edits all my videos, and I let her post it. And later, when you asked about a movie for Jane, I put that in my videos too. On Youtube. It was deceptive, and you’re probably getting all kinds of creepy comments from the internet now, and…I’m sorry.”

Bing looked slowly from Jane to Lizzie’s camera and then to the woman herself. “Lizzie, it’s fine. I’d have said yes if you’d asked me about posting those videos. If you want, you can post this one too. You’re my friend, and Jane’s sister, and…it’s fine.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Lizzie said, still looking nervous. Then her phone rang. “Oh, that’s Charlotte. Finally! I’ve been trying to get hold of her all day. Um, excuse me.” She walked out of the room and down the hall as she answered.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Jane said, touching his hand. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t think you’d mind being in Lizzie’s videos, but I shouldn’t have just assumed that.”

“No, you were right. I don’t mind.” He glanced back at the doorway, through which Lizzie’s voice could be heard faintly. “Lizzie seems really stressed over this. Did I say something embarrassing on camera that I’ve forgotten about?”

“No, no, you were always super sweet.” The sincerity in her words and smile sent his heart floating somewhere in the stratosphere. “Lizzie is just upset because Darcy found her filming this morning. He gets to her sometimes, and then she vents about him in her videos. And she’s embarrassed because, um…”. She began to blush. “She talks about us a lot too, and about Mom’s…”. Her voice trailed off.

Well now he was definitely curious. But he was also a gentleman. “Jane, if what’s in the videos makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just not watch them, ever. I’m not some stalker who has to spy on you any way I can.”

Jane looked away from him, one hand fidgeting with her hair. “No,” she said finally, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping secrets from you.”

“I won’t think that, I promise. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” she said with an uncertain smile, “but…I want you to watch them.”

And with that, his evening plans were settled. Lizzie’s laptop was on the desk in front of them, and Jane quickly navigated to a playlist. Bing angled his body slightly to see the screen and wondered what he was getting himself into. On the face of it, Lizzie talking a lot about him and Jane in her videos seemed promising…but why did Jane seem so nervous?

Lizzie appeared on the screen, and the next few minutes were full of confusion. The high view count on her first video was unexpected, and while he was amused by her descriptions of the 2.5 WPF club and why most rich, single men weren’t actually eligible, he was stunned to realize he was the reason she had chosen that topic for her first vlog. Apparently he had been the subject of intense gossip when he bought Netherfield—“rich, hot, and single…jackpot!,” as Lydia put it.

Lizzie’s next video about her sisters also began unsettlingly. Lydia, she said, was a “stupid, whorey slut,” and she was just describing how Lydia “marked her territory all over town” when Lizzie herself walked back through the door. Bing turned to her and tried to hide his confusion. He had never heard her use language like that before.

“Ok, I’m…oh my G--, you’re watching the videos?”

Jane leaned around him to say, “It’s ok, Lizzie. I want him to watch.”

Some unspoken communication passed between them. Then Lizzie said, “Ok, I guess I’ll…um…make myself scarce.”

Jane was on camera when he returned his attention to the videos. He smiled at the sight of her, and again at the real woman beside him. She, he noticed, did not speculate about his arrival or his fortune.

His first meeting with Mr. Bennet was the subject of the next video. Bing relaxed a bit as he watched it, amused by Lizzie’s comically inaccurate version of that encounter. Perhaps, he thought, she exaggerated in her videos for entertainment purposes. And she did correct herself now and admit Lydia wasn’t as she’d described. He did not quite understand her…but that was nothing new. He liked Lizzie, but she was sharp and clever, and sometimes her debates with Darcy went way over his head.

Even with that understanding, the title of her next video horrified him. “My 500 teenage prostitutes?” Had the speculation about him taken a sickening turn?

“She doesn’t really mean that,” Jane said, hands clenched in her lap. “Just…keep watching.”

He did, and was further shocked. Mrs. Bennet had stalked him to the point of stealing his mail? He looked to Jane, hoping she would confirm that Lizzie was exaggerating again, but she would not even look at him. What had she thought of his arrival? He could not begin to guess, now. And Lydia confirmed that her mother had bribed her to drive by his house, so Lizzie’s account could not be wholly exaggeration.

“After the Wedding” came next, and Jane was on camera again. Would she mention meeting him? At first it appeared she would say nothing. Lizzie, dressed as her sister, gushed that he had stolen her heart, that “it was like the stormy clouds of loneliness parted, and his face was the sun shining happiness down into my life.” Bing knew even before Jane protested that she had said no such thing. He could not imagine her gushing like that, no matter what the subject.

Then Jane donned a plaid shirt of Lizzie’s and began to portray her sister. “You and Bing did hit it off rather well. Maybe Caroline will be your sister someday, and be less mocking than your current sisters.”

Bing’s whirring thoughts abruptly stilled, his heart pounding. Had Jane just said what he thought she’d said?

Lizzie as Jane countered, “Or maybe we’ll just date for a little while, get our sexy times on, that kind of thing.”

“Maybe, and maybe that will lead to something more pure and wholesome.”

“It’s not like me to speak so hastily of commitment, especially with a man that my mother picked out and practically stalked for me and my sisters.”

Jane looked uncomfortable at the mention of stalking but did not let that deter her. “No, but sometimes things just happen, and who knows, maybe this is just meant to be.”

Bing swallowed hard. In that moment he could not care, nor scarcely remember all that had unsettled him. He turned to Jane, whose eyes skittered away immediately. The serenity that had always seemed innate to her was gone; she seemed even more embarrassed than before. He wanted to set her at ease, but he was stunned, speechless.

Maybe this is just meant to be. He had thought that too, after that first magical night of dancing and talking with her, but the voice of self-doubt in his head had thrown cold water on it. Now he knew that, beyond his highest hopes, Jane had felt the same way from the beginning.

Bing slowly took one of her hands and kissed it. She did not pull away as she had last time, when she was sick. Instead, she met his eyes.

“I felt the same way,” he said quietly. “I still do.”

Jane smiled and visibly relaxed. Bing smiled in return and threaded his fingers with hers.

The playlist continued, and Lizzie’s vehemence in the next video quickly caught his attention, but happy as he was, not even Lydia’s rather crass portrayal of him or Lizzie’s speculation that Darcy paid him for his friendship could perturb him very much. Lizzie’s vehemence was explained in the next video, which did perturb him.

“I’m sorry she heard that.” He frowned as Lizzie mimicked Darcy’s verdict on her as “decent enough.” He was glad she hadn’t heard Darcy continue on that theme later that night, when he’d tried to defend her as attractive. “I would as soon call her mother a wit” would only have hurt and infuriated her further.

It was several more videos before Jane appeared again. This time she was ecstatic, eyes and face alight, clapping with excitement as she told Lizzie of the flowers he’d sent. Bing grinned at seeing the reaction he’d hoped for. He had selected the flowers with care, after scanning her pinterest boards for ideas, and had sent them to her workplace because he knew her career was important to her. But he’d been uncertain at the time whether she really liked them. She had called and thanked him politely, of course, and he had made himself content with that. He didn’t want to be the guy who had to get thanked all the time. It was just that…he liked making people smile, giving joy to those he cared for. He always had. Even Caroline, usually so self-possessed and cynical, could occasionally be reduced to happy squeals by a well-chosen gift. It thrilled him now to see how happy his flowers had made Jane.

A dinner invitation had accompanied the flowers, and that dinner was the topic of Lizzie’s next video. Bing was pleased—he found he enjoyed reliving the past like this. Then, partway through the video, came an exchange of utmost interest, as Lizzie and Charlotte disagreed over whether Jane should continue to “play it cool” toward him.

“I think it’s obvious she really likes him,” Charlotte said, buoying him even more. “I just think we’re the only two people who can tell.” A clever bit of editing showed her, as Jane, greeting someone she really liked, her mortal enemy—did Jane even have such a thing?—and the mailman with an equally warm, “Oh hi! It’s so good to see you!” Charlotte continued, “We, as life-long scholars of the many moods of Jane Bennet, can tell the difference. I’m not sure Bing can.”

“Well, he’s a smart guy,” Lizzie retorted. “He’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure he could, if he put his mind to it. The question is, will he put in the effort if he’s not getting any encouragement?”

“Well if he’s not going to put in the effort, he’s not worth her time,” Lizzie concluded.

That…was very informative and thought-provoking. Bing’s mind was racing, trying to take it all in, when Jane opened the next video with, coincidentally, “Oh hi! It’s so good to see you!”

“I guess I do say that a lot,” Jane said from beside him. He had been too wrapped up in the on-screen conversation to register her reaction to it. He looked down now to find her cheeks flushed, her forehead furrowed.

“You make people feel welcome and appreciated,” he said reassuringly.

She smiled slightly before taking a steadying breath. “Is Charlotte right?”

“Um…,” he floundered.

“I mean, I know I’m reserved,” she continued. “It’s part of who I am, and…and maybe a little bit because I’m overcompensating for Mom’s…enthusiasm. But is it really very hard for you to tell what I’m feeling?”

It was an important question and deserving of a thoughtful answer. Bing reached to pause the video, buying himself time. “It is, sometimes. I feel like the opposite, myself, that I’m too obvious when I like someone. That’s what Darcy says, anyway. And I guess it’s harder to read people who are different than us. But…,” he continued, thinking aloud and realizing the truth of it even as he spoke, “Lizzie is right. If we’re going to be together, it’s my job to become an expert on the, uh, ‘many moods of Jane Bennet.’ I think I’m up to the challenge. And Jane”—he trailed the fingers of his free hand down her cheek—“there is nothing I’d rather do.”

Jane’s eyes were achingly wide as she listened, and when he finished she grasped his fingers and kissed them, echoing his earlier gesture. “Thank you, Bing,” she said quietly. “I’ll try to work on being more open with you too, and not hiding what I’m feeling or what I want. I—I don’t want you to doubt that I care for you.”

“I don’t, now.”

How was it possible to be so exhilarated and yet so at peace? Bing wrapped an arm around her waist when they resumed the videos. They were both enjoying them now, laughing as Lizzie alternately portrayed both of them in costume theater and then again when Jane impersonated Darcy.

“Lizzie’s viewers loved this one,” Jane informed him, looking adorably pleased with herself.

“I think even Darcy would enjoy it,” he replied. He caught the gist of the sketch, too, and the possibility of Darcy being fixated on Lizzie made him thoughtful.

The videos still had their awkward moments. Bing’s eyes widened at the sight of the molded green beans in cranberry jello. He rather thought Lizzie exaggerated again with talk of her mother’s convoluted plan involving a white-gowned Jane, the jello, and a freak rainstorm, but then Jane blushed and hid her face against his shoulder.

“She really would have made you do that?” He would have treated Jane respectfully and honorably, even in such a situation, but any number of other men would have taken advantage of the situation…of her. He wondered if her mother had attempted such a thing before, and felt a little sick.

“I hope I could have talked her out of it,” Jane said, leaning back and smoothing her hair distractedly. “I don’t think it actually rained that day anyway. The…drought, you know.” Her brow knitted. “I know it sounds unhinged, but she just…she wants so desperately for all of us to be happy. It can be overwhelming sometimes, but…”. Her voice grew firm. “I love her for that.”

Bing nodded slowly. “I think I understand.” He smiled a little. “She and I both want you to be happy, so we have that in common.”

Lizzie and Lydia also shared that desire. Lizzie choked down the jello concoction in question—provoking Bing to gratitude and sympathy—and despite their embarrassing speculations, both women were clearly thrilled when, after a later party, he and Jane spent the night talking and connecting at a deeper level.

Time in the videos approached the present as yet another convoluted plan brought Jane and Lizzie to stay at Netherfield. Bing was actually looking forward to his own appearances by this point, but his pleasure in them was mingled with surprise.

Caroline had found the videos. She encouraged Lizzie to keep filming, which pleased him, but he couldn’t quite understand her reasoning for not telling him: “I think we can both agree that the men discovering your video diaries would be catastrophic, especially for your sister’s budding relationship with my dear brother.” Catastrophic how? He would have been bewildered, of course, if he’d seen only Lizzie’s first few videos. Perhaps that’s what Caroline meant, that she was trying to protect him. But why would she encourage Lizzie to lie to him about the videos?

It didn’t quite make sense. But it didn’t have to, not right now. The hour was late, and Jane had already begun to yawn and lean against him, drowsy and warm. Bing closed Lizzie’s laptop when the last video ended and helped Jane to her feet. They found Lizzie in the sitting room a few doors down, pacing rather than sitting.

“We’re done,” Jane said, her smile stretching itself into yet another yawn.

He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you to bed. Goodnight, Lizzie.”

%%%

It was late, very late, by the time Lizzie returned to her room. As she did, she saw that the camera was still on. Charlotte had been sending her texts for the last hour, pestering her to send the footage so she could edit it and get to bed. Her job meant there would be no time for editing in the morning. Lizzie turned off the camera, sent Charlotte the footage and some brief instructions, then tried to get some rest herself.

Chapter Text

Monday, July 23

Darcy woke well before his alarm the next morning, and his first waking thought was of Lizzie. He had habit to thank for that, he supposed; but still, it was not a particularly good omen. He rose with determination and began his normal weekday routine: work out for half an hour, breakfast while catching up on the news, then to work. Early hours were a practical necessity for a West Coast-based CEO, but fortunately he was a morning person by nature. Lizzie too was an early riser. He usually found her in the breakfast room, latte and phone in hand, but his early start meant she was not there today. That was just as well.

It was a relief to allow the routine of work to absorb him. Emails upon emails, conference calls with Reynolds and later with a major investor, decisions to be made on everything from the latest advertising campaign to the production team’s proposed upgrade of the video editing software. It energized him, all of it, but especially his virtual meeting with programmers working on the as-yet-unnamed story and communications app. The actual guts of their algorithms were beyond his comprehension, but the team’s excitement was palpable, as was the progress they’d made.

Progress and creative fulfillment. Seeing them in his company and employees always brought satisfaction, but especially now, in his absence. He knew CEOs who felt they couldn’t leave the helm for more than a week. He had worked remotely for three months now, returning only a few days at a time for key meetings—yet Pemberley Digital was thriving. He was lucky in his employees, and he knew it, both those he’d hired and the core that remained from his parents’ time.

Yes, work was satisfying and energizing…but it could not evict Lizzie from his thoughts. They strayed to her easily and often, even more so now that he knew the commonality in their professional interests.

Caroline came around noon, inviting him to lunch as she did every weekday. Before the Bennets came he had usually joined her and Bing. Lately, however, Bing had started driving Jane to and from work as well as disappearing around midday, presumably to meet her for lunch. Darcy might still have lunched with Caroline occasionally, but lately she had taken to needling him over his supposed future with Lizzie. The picture she painted was alarming—Mrs. Bennet loudly asking the price of each of his furnishings, Lydia sock-sliding the length of his house—and Darcy found that his best defense was to keep to his room with a plate of food to graze on as he worked.

Today she announced lunch in a slightly nervous tone, but his response was the same. “I will come down for something later. Please don’t wait for me.”

“I can bring up a plate for you,” she offered. “I know what you’ll want. There’s—.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but I prefer to select my own food.”

Caroline moved from the doorway to come stand beside his desk. “Darcy, I want to apologize for yesterday, for not telling you what we were filming.”

“‘Not telling me?’” he echoed. It was not her omission but her outright lie that was at issue.

“I just…I didn’t want you to find out all the terrible things Lizzie has been saying about you!”

“I see.”

“I was shocked when I found her videos. She was so unfair, to Bing but especially to you—mocking and slandering you like that in front of thousands of people! I knew you would be furious at her, especially since you…”. She stopped, biting her lip. “Well, I decided that instead of telling you about the videos, I’d just try to warn you away from her. I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she finished, touching his shoulder lightly.

Darcy’s jaw tightened. He and Caroline were friends, or at least they had been, and she was his best friend’s sister and currently his hostess. But he was not going to passively accept her continued lies.

“I might believe that, had I not watched you in her videos.”

“But I just—.”

“Cunning under the guise of apology will not work with me, Caroline.”

Caroline flinched slightly at that, her eyes first widening, then dropping to her feet. She could not leave quickly enough.

Darcy’s frown remained. How easily manipulated did she think he was, that she would try to pin all the blame on Lizzie? She had been helping Lizzie with costume theater when he arrived, and costume theater of him could only mean mockery. In addition to lying, she had participated in the very thing she claimed to deplore.

Costume theater for tomorrow’s video, Lizzie had said. Darcy steeled himself, knowing it would be wiser not to watch. Curiosity beckoned irresistibly, however. Would she mention that he had found her filming, or relay any of their conversation afterward? In the past, any interaction with him seemed to have inevitably ended up in her videos, but he could not begin to guess what she might do now.

The new video was there in her playlist. “My name is Lizzie Bennet,” she began, “and today is the day I eat my words.” Which words, he wondered, leaning forward intently.

The footage following her theme music had been filmed prior to his interruption. Or so he assumed, for in it Lizzie complained about the “agreeable-off” between Bing and Jane, and while he frequently shared her exasperation at their unrelenting pleasantness, surely she did not now lament the lack of conflict between them.

“But there is at least one person I can count on not to be happy about everything,” she said. His lips contorted in a wintry smile. Of course she would think contrariness his finest quality. “Don’t get me wrong—Darcy is still unpleasant, disagreeable, and full of himself, but at least he’s not afraid to have an opinion. It’s usually a very disagreeable opinion, but it’s nice to have something you can depend on. The man finds a way to criticize everything and everyone.”

Caroline entered, and they performed the familiar costume theater scene. Then he arrived. It was strange hearing himself in Lizzie’s videos. He sounded…dense, he thought, overly formal and far too slow on the uptake. He winced when he heard himself naïvely volunteer to be in her videos, remembering how intrigued he’d been that she had already introduced him to her viewers. No wonder she had laughed in his face.

He had never stepped into the camera’s view. Lizzie’s face was not visible either, only her torso as she fidgeted nervously before the camera. Her voice was as high and strangled as he recalled. Their conversation played without jump cuts. He apologized—“you are one of the most attractive women I have ever known, and I was a fool to state otherwise”—and then left. The video’s last image was Lizzie sinking to her bed with an expression of bewilderment.

Darcy played the video again, then again, his dissatisfaction growing. He tried to reason himself out of it. After all, Lizzie told her viewers up front that she had been wrong and did not try to gloss over their confrontation. That was more than he had expected. Her insults, though nothing new, still had the power to sting. He would have resented them, especially after her promise last night, if not for the hope that she had left them in to typify which words she was eating.

But that was exactly the problem: he didn’t know what she meant. The video was as enigmatic as her apology last night. It wasn’t that he expected a point-by-point repudiation of all that she’d said about him. But the video had ended too soon. He needed to know more. He had finally realized how completely they had misunderstood each other, even had a portal now into her thoughts, but had only one cryptic sentence filmed after their confrontation to tell him what she was thinking.

He was being ridiculous. Just yesterday he had balked at being in any future videos, and now he was frustrated that she didn’t say more about him? Perhaps she would in a later video. Perhaps she intended this as a cliffhanger for her viewers. Or perhaps she would say nothing, finding him uninteresting as anything other than an antagonist.

What did it matter? Why did he care what she thought of him? He had determined to be disinterested, and this was a poor beginning.

Enough. He closed his web browser, went downstairs to pick up the plate of food that Stephane had kept warm for him, then immersed himself in work once more.

Chapter Text

Monday, July 23

Darcy finished his last scheduled call for the day and was just beginning to tackle his inbox again when he heard a car turn into the driveway. A glance through the window above his desk told him it was Lizzie. Given the location of his room, he often saw her return after a day of…well, until yesterday he hadn’t known exactly how she spent her days, but maintaining a vlog and documenting it for her thesis were surely time-consuming.

“I mean, what does he do with his life?” he remembered Lizzie asking in the video with all the insults. The question was rhetorical, for she had already determined how someone like him spent his days: “He probably uses his money to lounge around all day in $5000 boxers watching BBC miniseries with people he pays to be his friends because no sane human being could actually put up with him.” The charge was easily refuted and would have been laughable coming from anyone but Lizzie. Even she knew better now; the costume theater scene he had interrupted had shown Bing urging him to stop working and instead socialize with his friends.

Others of her charges were more vague and consequently harder to disprove. “It’s like he’s purposely dooming himself to be alone for life,” for example, as she had said in a recent video. What could he say to that, except that it was wholly and cruelly untrue?

He rewatched that video against his better judgment. There had been no costume theater this time but rather a game show Lizzie dubbed “Darceny” in which she quizzed Caroline over their recent conversation about what made a woman accomplished. That was unusual, he now realized. Today’s video featured costume theater again, so apparently this had been a one-time deviation. Strange.

Equally strange was her exact memory of his words. To Caroline’s recollection of “courteous, selective, well-read, at least an advanced degree, and an appreciation for arts that doesn’t include Hollywood movies or popular music,” Lizzie had added the remaining “physically fit, fluent in more than one language, up to date on current affairs, fiscally responsible, a charitable nature, and a talent for something other than watching reality television.”

Lizzie evidently thought he had been listing his requirements for a potential girlfriend, and had mockingly concluded that such a woman did not exist. She wasn’t entirely wrong, he supposed. He had in fact been answering her challenge to define what qualified someone as having their life together, but there was of course considerable overlap with what he looked for in a woman.

He wanted more than just a woman who was well-adjusted, however. That she be of his social class was his family’s expectation and his own. It was simpler that way. He did not want to risk his heart with someone who might be more interested in his wealth than in him. Someone of another socioeconomic background would also struggle to understand his responsibilities, as Lizzie had when she assumed after a single encounter that he had none. But above all that, he wanted true compatibility, a woman who valued authenticity and family as much as he did. Who challenged and stimulated him. A woman he could trust with his heart, his past, his dreams for the future—with whom he could labor to build their future.

Did that doom him to being alone for life? Maybe. It was not a pleasant prospect, but there were worse things in life than being single.

But that was beside the point. The point was, Lizzie had interpreted his description as personal criticism and had taken offense. Apparently she thought he shouldn’t have standards, which was hypocritical because she herself had them. Her videos proved it.

She had standards for behavior. Her mother didn’t measure up, nor did Lydia.

She had standards for how idealistic one should be about one’s career and future. Charlotte didn’t measure up.

She had standards for the pace at which a relationship should progress. Jane’s swift romance with Bing didn’t measure up.

Most hypocritically of all, she had standards for men too. He had, again despite his better judgment, poked around her Youtube channel after their conversation last night and happened upon a Q&A video in which she described what she looked for in a man. And, not that it mattered, he had noticed that he matched every item on her list.

But what if he hadn’t?

The question gave him pause. What if Lizzie had countered his list of the attributes he valued in a woman with her list of attributes for a man? And what if she’d said her ideal man would be outgoing, charming, as adept in social situations as herself, or any number of characteristics he lacked?

He would have been piqued, would have felt insulted. Just as Lizzie had.

Another mortifying discovery soon followed, for in fairness, he had to admit Lizzie had much more reason to feel insulted than he would have. Her video reminded him that the conversation had been framed as whether the women here were accomplished, and she and Jane were clearly the women here whom he knew best. He hadn’t intended his words in that way any more than he had intended “decent enough” to hurt her. But it had, regardless of his intent.

Lizzie felt she didn’t measure up to his list. From her facial expression, “fiscally responsible” rankled; perhaps other items did as well. And why wouldn’t they? She thought he had been scrutinizing her these past weeks, and she was right. She thought he looked at her only to find fault, and had he not looked for flaws to counter his growing fascination with her? The faults he had detected then were more in her family and financial situation than in herself. Her videos certainly showed her to be more personally flawed than he’d realized…yet somehow it bothered him that she might feel herself lacking.

It wasn’t just her though. Lizzie believed no one could match his list. Caroline had suggested that Gigi did, but she had not seen her since…since Wickham. Darcy inhaled a shaky breath as he recalled the last time he’d seen his sister. Gigi was…fragile, wracked by doubts and self-reproach, her old vivacity achingly absent. No one would call her well-put-together right now, but he didn’t care about that. He loved her unreservedly and rejoiced at each bit of progress Fitz felt he could share with him.

If Gigi didn’t match that list, at least for now, who did?

Fitz didn’t. He watched every reality cooking show he could find, primarily because he loved cooking but also, Darcy suspected, because he enjoyed needling his friend with the latest happenings.

Bing didn’t, for he would never be selective in whom he allowed into his life, not to mention that his ongoing identity crisis over med school meant he might never earn an advanced degree.

Caroline didn’t, lacking, among other things, a charitable nature.

Did he match his own list?

The question was breath-taking. Surely he did, for had he not always prided himself on what he was accomplishing and who he was becoming? Yet after the last two days, how could he claim to be courteous?

Darcy stood abruptly and began pacing his room. It was all happening too fast. He needed to consider, and not allow himself to be run away with…whatever this fearsome mixture of humiliation and doubt was. He paced for some time, but to his dismay he found his questions proliferating.

Was Lizzie right? And if she was right about this, what else might she have been right about?

An impulse stirred him, and before he could quash it he texted Fitz. Am I a snob?

Yes.

Quick and direct, the response made him blink.

Full of myself?

Um…sometimes. Why?

Dooming myself to be alone for life?

His phone rang within seconds.

“So I am a snob,” he said flatly, forgoing a greeting.

“I’m gonna answer that with a question. Did you or did you not tell me that you disapprove of the word ‘OK’?”

He frowned. “Not the word, just its etymology. It originated in a fad for intentionally misspelling words and then abbreviating them. That is ludicrous.”

“Aaaaand I’ve made my point.”

Darcy made no reply, and Fitz dropped the teasing. “Ok seriously, what’s going on? Did Gigi say that stuff about you back when…?”

“No. It was…no one you know.”

“Uh-huh. And what is her name?”

The assumption made him bristle. “That is not important.”

“Fine. So the lovely but outspoken Ms. X just up and told you that you’re doomed to be alone for life?”

“Not exactly. But she despises me. Thoroughly. And…I think she might be partially right.”

Fitz gave a low whistle. “What exactly happened?”

He began to recount briefly what had happened yesterday, the revelation of what she thought of him and why. His explanation was as disordered as his thoughts, and he had not spoken long before Fitz interrupted.

“Wait, wait, you mean she didn’t say this stuff to your face but to the whole internet instead?”

“She is a graduate student in mass communications. She vlogs as part of her thesis.”

“So her thesis is gonna be about how much she hates you? And she’s actually living in the same house…dude, I hate to say it, but this girl sounds like bad news. Are you sure she’s not digging around for some kind of exposé?”

Darcy gave a brittle laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that. And you said yourself that she was right to call me a snob. I’m just not describing it very well.”

“Hey, no worries, it’s hard to talk about stuff like this. Just…maybe start from the beginning?”

The beginning. The Gibson wedding. Their acquaintance and Lizzie’s animosity had begun there. He was about to try again when a thought occurred. “Why don’t I let her start from the beginning? That is, if you don’t mind watching her videos?”

“Sure thing. Except for one little problem.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know her name.”

“Lizzie Bennet,” he said intrepidly. Naming her meant there was no going back. Not that Fitz would have let him off the hook at this point, but still…

“All right, I am on it. And Darcy?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a loyal and loving dude, so don’t let Lizzie’s disdain get you down.”

That wrung a chuckle from him. “I appreciate the sentiment. The alliteration I will tolerate.”

Fitz grumbled good-naturedly. “Oh, and check your Twitter. Gigi’s gonna get worried if you don’t answer her soon. Fitz Williams out!”

What was this about Gigi? Darcy quickly navigated to Twitter. He had ignored all notifications since yesterday after realizing that most came from Lizzie’s viewers. Now he saw Gigi’s tweet from this morning: Hi! Miss you. Having fun with @bingliest and @that_caroline?

She missed him. That was not something she would have said even a few weeks ago. Reading the words made the tightness in his chest loosen a little. Well, it has been illuminating. How are you? Is everything OK?

She must have had her phone handy, because she replied in less than a minute. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. :)

Somebody has to.

Everything’s great. Doing some advance reading for the English Lit class I’m taking next semester.

And I have a whole new bunch of twitter followers. Not sure why.

Understanding was only moments in coming. Caroline had mentioned Gigi in Lizzie’s video last week. Small wonder that the more avid viewers had tracked her down. He only hoped she would not find the videos herself, for some of the content would distress her. I got the same a few weeks ago. They’re nothing to worry about.

Then I won’t :)

Darcy closed his laptop after she signed off; clearly he would get no more work done today. Bing had knocked on the door midway through his conversation with Fitz, announcing dinner, but Darcy had waved him off. They would still be eating now, but Darcy wasn’t hungry and had no desire to join them. Perhaps another bike ride would help clear his mind.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, July 24

Lizzie took a bite of her quiche, her attention more on the door and hallway beyond than on her plate. The breakfast room was empty except for herself, and that was precisely what had her worried.

After she and Darcy had it out in the kitchen on Sunday, she had thought they might be able to reach a point where they could…well, not peacefully coexist, but maybe something close to it. But now, two days later, they had yet to coexist at all.

As the only early risers in the house, they had endured many an awkward breakfast during her time at Netherfield, but this was the second morning in a row that he hadn’t shown. Combine that with the fact Bing had returned alone from announcing dinner last night and reported Darcy was “on the phone” and they shouldn’t wait for him. Darcy used to bring his laptop down often and work in the corner during the evening, but not last night.

The longer this went on, the more she felt certain he was avoiding her. He would of course still be angry over her earlier videos, and understandably so, but watching the new video Charlotte posted on Sunday’s events also brought panic when she tried to imagine how he might react to it.

It had made so much sense, in those late and exhausted hours Sunday night, to tell Charlotte to show Darcy’s interruption and the events leading up to it. He had said he didn’t care what she portrayed, and allowing him to speak for himself and admitting up front that she was having to reconsider some things seemed like the least she could do. She was determined to be more responsible in her future videos and wanted her viewers to see the reason for that change. The inherent drama of the scene and her viewers’ ongoing clamor to see Darcy were undeniable, but she honestly believed those had not been deciding factors in her decision.

Darcy didn’t know that, however. And he was the person least likely to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Approaching footsteps interrupted her worrisome thoughts. Darcy entered, and Lizzie stilled, watching him warily.

“Good morning, Lizzie,” he said quietly.

“Good morning.” She watched as he busied himself with the coffee. “Did you, um, sleep well?”

“Er…tolerably, I suppose. And you?”

“Same here.”

He filled a plate, then gave a brief nod in her direction before heading toward the door.

“Darcy?”

He stopped to look at her, and she stood, picking up her latte and now-empty plate. “I’m leaving now, if you want to eat in here.”

“Thank you, but that is not necessary. I have an early conference call and will need to eat in my room.”

“Oh, okay.” He made no immediate move to leave, and Lizzie went on. “I, uh, posted a new video yesterday.”

“Yes, I saw. Based on the state of my twitter notifications, it was quite effective as a cliffhanger.”

His tone was mild, but Lizzie still winced. “Yeah, about that…you said you didn’t care what I put in the videos, and I took that and ran with it, but then I thought maybe you didn’t mean showing you was ok, that I should have asked you first,” she said, all in a rush.

“Lizzie, it’s fine. I admit I was surprised you included that footage. But I meant what I said. I don’t mind if you discuss, portray, or show me in your videos. If there is something I’d rather you didn’t include, I will let you know.”

Lizzie could only stare at him in response. That biting tone in his voice the last time they’d discussed her videos was now gone.

Seconds later, his watch beeped. “Excuse me, I must go. I have a meeting to lead in ten minutes.”

“Ok. Sure.” And for the fourth time in a row, she watched in total bewilderment as he left the room.

%%%

“Soooo…what did you guys think of my last video?” Lizzie began playfully. “Were you surprised at how it turned out? Have you finally had enough of Darcy now that you’ve heard his voice? Or did you still want to see him? Oh wait, I’ve read through your comments—yes, that’s right, all of them—so I already know the answers to those questions.”

Then she straightened her shoulders and became more serious. “Since my questions have been answered…or at least the ones I asked just now have been…I’ll answer a few of yours. Has Darcy watched my videos now? Yes. Did he give me permission to include that footage of him in my video? Yes. Is he going to raid Bing’s medical bag for scary surgical tools to use on me? No, and he’s not going to sue me either. He’s actually being really decent about it…,” her mouth curved a little, “dare I say, decent enough?”

She continued, “He did insist that we tell Bing about the videos, and I agree that was the right thing to do. And since I happened to be filming at the time, you’re going to see exactly what happened. My name is Lizzie Bennet, and sometimes good can come out of the bad stuff in life.”

Lizzie held for a long moment, then turned off her camera and sent the footage to Charlotte. That task completed, and with half an hour to spare before she needed to leave for her first tutoring session, Lizzie leaned back in her desk chair, her hands laced over her stomach.

“Decent enough.” She hadn’t planned to say that, to turn Darcy’s words back on him, but now that she’d said it she knew she would leave it in. Her viewers would enjoy it. She could imagine the GIFs that would ensue. Or maybe she couldn’t; her viewers’ creativity was sometimes astonishing.

Astonishing. That adjective fit Darcy too. She could never have predicted his response to her videos. Their conversations over the last few days kept playing over and over in her mind. Him volunteering to help with her costume theater scene. His confusion when asking, “You think I dislike you?” The fact that even while incensed with her, he had not retaliated but instead protected and even complimented her. His parting words on Sunday: “After today, perhaps we should dispense with the illusion that either of us knows what the other is thinking.” Lurking unsaid was the fact that she had been pleasantly surprised and he unpleasantly. And now his abrupt change of attitude toward her videos. There had been no need to ask this morning whether he was angry over the last few insults she had left in her video; he clearly wasn’t. Was it possible he somehow understood her reasons for leaving them in? She wondered what he would have said, had she asked him about it.

A smile ghosted across her face a moment later when she realized she had done just what he suggested: wonder what he thought instead of assuming she knew.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, July 25

Lizzie, her tutoring done for the day, settled down with her laptop and headphones in a quiet corner of the college library. Charlotte had just sent her a draft of the new video to be posted tomorrow. It would be the longest video as yet, but that was fine with Lizzie. What had transpired between Jane and Bing was important and meaningful. They had been as googly-eyed as ever the last couple days, but also seemed more confident in each other. Lizzie was so happy for them, and excited to share it with her viewers.

Lizzie smiled a little after her introduction, when she saw that Charlotte had left in Caroline’s abrupt entrance and questions about Darcy. Caroline had been in a funk since Sunday, hardly speaking to her. Lizzie guessed she felt guilty for talking about her friend and houseguest behind his back. Had she been editing the video herself, Lizzie probably would have omitted that footage, but she was not going to ask Charlotte to cut it. Caroline had, after all, been the one to encourage her to lie to Bing and had actually lied to Darcy too.

Then Jane entered, and Lizzie’s smile widened in anticipation. Bing joined them, and after Lizzie’s apology the video marathon began, some clever synching by Charlotte allowing viewers to see via an inset what Jane and Bing were watching.

Shortly thereafter Lizzie’s smile evaporated. She had not noticed it on first viewing for whatever reason, but this time she registered Bing’s reaction to her earliest videos. Specifically, to her words about Lydia.

“Ugh, Lydia’s being a stupid whorey slut again…We’re all very proud she’s now too old to be on any reality shows about having babies in high school…She’s like a puppy. A cute, adorable, humps the neighbor’s leg, never know where she sleeps puppy. Yeah, she chews your slippers and marks her territory all over town, but you still love her.”

Bing’s jaw dropped at her words. He looked…horrified almost, or as close to it as his habitual good manners would allow. She had re-entered the room at that moment, and he had been so stunned he hadn’t even spoken to her.

She had never spoken about Lydia like that in front of him. Jane’s interest in him had been clear from the start, and Lizzie had wanted to give a good impression…or at least not draw his attention to her family’s failings.

She had been discreet around Bing—and had instead saved her vicious words for the internet.

What kind of sister was she, that she would say such things about Lydia in the most public venue possible, call her names and liken her to a dog, and then have the nerve to end by saying she loved her! Lizzie felt cold as the realization broke over her. This was even worse in a way than the abuse she had heaped upon Darcy, for she owed more kindness to her sister than to him.

What must Lydia have felt when she watched that video? Maybe, Lizzie thought feebly, she hadn’t been hurt by it. Lydia always seemed so impervious to…well, anything she didn’t wish to hear. Maybe she had shrugged it off. Or maybe she had retaliated by saying equally unkind things about Lizzie in her own videos.

On that thought, Lizzie quickly navigated to Lydia’s Youtube channel. She had, at Lydia’s pestering, tweeted out her first video, but had yet to watch any of them. She began the first video now, only to stop one minute in. “Poor Lizzie and Jane,” Lydia said. “They’re not used to being without me. It’s probably really hard on them.”

“Why aren’t you staying there?” Mary asked. Lydia suggested that Jane wanted time alone with Bing, but Mary countered, “But Lizzie’s there.”

For a split second, Lydia’s smile disappeared. Then she defensively shot back, “Stop interrogating me!”

Lizzie paused the video, feeling even lower than before. Her own words, fresh in her mind from her own recent video marathon, echoed clearly in her memory. One of the benefits of living at Netherfield, she had said, was that “I don’t have to deal with my mom or Lydia for a little while.” “Would you believe I miss Lydia?” she had asked Caroline a week later. The question was rhetorical, her tone indicating clearly that such a supposition was laughable.

Lizzie let guilt dog her for perhaps ten minutes before giving in and calling her sister. Her guilt then intensified, for Lydia sounded surprised when she picked up, reminding Lizzie that she had scarcely called or texted her sister the entire time she’d been at Netherfield.

“I was just thinking…do you want to get together this afternoon? Maybe get ice cream or something?”

“G-- yes, it is totes boring over here! Maybe froyo? Please please please?”

And so Lizzie found herself in line behind Lydia, watching as she flirted outrageously with the boy who filled their order. Fortunately he was more shy than wolf, and stared after them, his smiling face still flushed, as they found a table.

“So…how have you been?” Lizzie began, feeling the lameness of it.

“Bored. Like, suuuper bored. There’s no one to talk to but Mary.”

“Oh, how are you two getting along?”

Lydia snorted. “‘How are you two getting along?’ What are you, my grandma?” Then, without waiting for a response, she went on, “She acts all allergic to having a good time, but she’s kinda cool when she loosens up.”

Lizzie tried but failed to imagine their cousin “loosening up.” “I see. Um, well, it sure hasn’t been boring at Netherfield lately. I had to tell Bing about my videos.”

“Darceface wouldn’t keep a secret, huh?”

Darceface? Lizzie hoped fervently that Lydia would never call him that to his face. “I shouldn’t have tried to hide them from Bing in the first place. He wasn’t mad like I thought he would be. Didn’t take out a restraining order on me…or on Mom either.”

Lydia ignored her attempt at humor. “Yeah, I know. Jane says it was one of the best things that’s happened in their relationship. Laaame, but…kinda cool.”

“You talked to Jane about it?”

“Duh. When I saw your video, I had to make sure she was ok.”

“Oh.” Lizzie felt another surge of guilt, that Lydia had been watching her videos even when they were apart. The time had come, and she was unaccountably nervous. “Lydia, I—I need to apologize to you. I’ve said some things about you in my videos that…were really harsh and unkind. I…I worry for you, a lot, but I’ve realized that saying that kind of stuff—calling you names and especially posting it on the internet—well, it’s about the least helpful thing I could have done. I’m so sorry.”

Lydia’s eyes were intent on her while she listened. “Thanks,” she said tentatively, her usual animation absent.

“I…I hope you weren’t hurt by the things I said?”

Lydia screwed up her face in disbelief. “O.M.G. Are you seriously asking whether it hurts when my sister says I’m a stupid, whorey slut, or a boy-crazy, completely irresponsible substance abuser?”

Lizzie looked down, her eyes burning. How stupid and blind could she possibly have been? “Ok,” she said, defeated. “I’ll take them down.”

“Take what down?”

“The videos where I say bad stuff about you. I…I guess that’s a lot of them.”

“But…I thought they were your thesis project!”

Lizzie looked up to meet Lydia’s look of disbelief. “And you are my sister,” she said firmly.

The effect of those words was remarkable. Lydia’s face softened in a way Lizzie had never seen before. She considered a long moment, then suddenly smiled. “Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ “You posted them on the internet, so you’re stuck with them now. But…thank you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Lizzie smiled back. “Ok. Thank you,” she said, feeling the weight of the last few days lifting off her. “Hey, do you want to see a sneak preview of tomorrow’s video? Charlotte just sent it this afternoon. It shows Jane and Bing watching the videos.”

Lydia’s eyes lit up, and she dragged her chair over next to sister’s while Lizzie took out her laptop. Lizzie found herself watching her sister as much as the screen while the video played. Lydia interjected a few comments that Lizzie was glad Bing wasn’t there to hear, but her excitement for their sister was unmistakable.

“Ooh, ooh, idea!” Lydia exclaimed when the footage had ended. “We should make a video too!”

“Um…ok,” Lizzie said slowly, “but my camera is back at Netherfield.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Some of us don’t have fancy equipment and just use these,” she retorted, pulling out her phone.

And so, a couple minutes later, Lizzie found herself seated next to her sister on the grass in the park across the street. It felt strange for Lydia instead of her to “host” the video. They spoke of nothing more substantial than their favorite froyo flavors and speculation on how much longer the remodeling back home would take. Then Lydia gave her a daring smile and held up her hand for a high five. This time Lizzie obliged, and they were still smiling at each other when Lydia stopped recording.

Lizzie dropped Lydia off at their uncle and aunt’s, shared a brief conversation and hug with her parents, then set off for Netherfield again. As she drove, her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Lydia. She had seemed…different today. More serious, even when they weren’t talking about serious things. Maybe the loneliness was getting to her, or Mary was rubbing off on her?

She remembered too Lydia’s retort about whether she’d been hurt by Lizzie’s words in her videos. Lizzie pulled over into a parking lot for a minute and rewatched the video, one of her last before leaving for VidCon and Netherfield, that contained the words Lydia had quoted. Lydia had entered after hearing Lizzie freaking out over losing Jane, had come to return her necklace and…maybe even to comfort her? It hurt now, seeing Lydia’s face fall when instead of accepting her comfort, she labeled her a “boy-crazy, completely irresponsible substance abuser.”

Her words had the power to hurt. Lizzie had known that in theory, of course, but the truth of it had never been so real to her as now.

And then, with a shock of comprehension, she thought of Darcy. There hadn’t been much conversation between them at breakfast this morning, though what there was, was studiously polite. Lizzie remembered thinking at the time that if they kept this up, they would be having agreeable-offs worthy of Jane and Bing.

Darcy’s politeness had emboldened her, and she had tentatively broached the question on her mind. “About my last video, I…um…I left the insults in. I know I said I wouldn’t do that in my videos anymore, but I had filmed them before, and I was just trying to…well…”.

“It’s fine,” he had said, even as his chin tucked a little toward his chest. “I think I understand why. And…on reflection, I have indeed been unpleasant, disagreeable, and full of myself at times.” He had not seemed to want to talk after that, and breakfast had ended with few more words between them.

It struck her now that he had quoted her exactly. She wondered uneasily how many others of her insults he could now quote too. A few days ago, she would have scoffed at the idea that she could hurt Darcy’s feelings, even at the notion that he had feelings to hurt. But now…

It was a quiet Lizzie who arrived back at Netherfield. She passed Jane’s partly open door en route to her own room and, after a moment’s thought, tapped on it.

“Lizzie, it’s so good to see you! How was your day?”

“Terrible. And good. I don’t know, I guess some of both.”

Jane set aside the fabric she had been working on. “What happened?”

“I got froyo with Lydia,” Lizzie said, taking a seat on the end of Jane’s bed.

“Oh. Did you two get in an argument?”

“No,” she replied, smiling slightly. Jane had tried to play peacemaker in many a sisterly fight over the years. “I apologized for the mean and…and judgmental things I’ve said about her in the videos. We had a really good time after that.”

Jane smiled and reached over to touch her arm. “I’m so glad! It was brave of you to apologize to her.”

“Brave?” She certainly didn’t feel brave.

“Of course! It takes courage to admit when you’re wrong and work to make it right.”

“I guess,” she said, shrugging. Jane remained quiet, listening with open sympathy, and at length Lizzie spoke again. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“How I do what?”

“Be so kind all the time and see the best in people. I mean, when’s the last time you had to apologize for something you said? Kindergarten?”

“Lizzie,” Jane said affectionately, shaking her head. “Do you know how many times I’ve wished I was more like you?”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re not afraid to say and feel and do. It’s hard for me to show or admit what I feel, but it comes so easily to you.”

Lizzie’s brief smile evaporated. “Yeah, well, saying what I think hasn’t been such a great thing for me lately. Hence all the apologies.”

“‘All’ the apologies?”

“Lydia…Bing…” she lowered her voice. “Darcy.”

“You apologized to Darcy too?”

“Yeah. For all the c--- I’ve said about him.” Jane waited again, and Lizzie twisted her hands together and continued, “He’s been acting out of character ever since he found the videos. Or at least I think he is. The guy I described in my videos would never react like this. Which means either he’s had a personality transplant…or I’ve been wrong about him. Really wrong.”

“Do you want to get it right?” Jane asked softly.

Lizzie thought for a long moment. “Yeah.”

“Then maybe the first step is to get to know the real Darcy.”

Lizzie thought again, then nodded and cracked a smile. “Well, we know he’s tall, for starters.”

Jane laughed. “That he is.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday, July 25

“Knock, knock.”

Darcy looked up to find Bing in his doorway. “Oh, no lunch with Jane today?”

“I thought we might go out for lunch instead, if you have time.”

Darcy had the time and readily agreed, though he did wonder at the request. This wasn’t Stephane’s day off, and it was earlier than their usual lunch time. Were they avoiding Caroline for some reason?

Of course. The videos. Lizzie and Jane would have told him by now, and Bing must want to talk privately about it.

They were mostly quiet as Bing drove. Darcy was preoccupied with the coming conversation. He had been too absorbed by his own role in the videos to give much thought to his friend. He had Lizzie’s word for it that Jane truly cared for Bing, but that wasn’t something he could just outright tell him. And what other advice could he give? He was uncertain now about so many things.

Bing waited until they had placed their orders to broach the topic. “I saw Lizzie’s latest video. I, uh, assume you know she showed the footage of you. Or of your voice anyway.”

Darcy nodded. “I gave her permission.”

“So did I, when she and Jane told me about them. I’ve already been in a couple anyway.”

Tactfully worded, he noted. From the carelessness of Bing’s tone, there was no need to ask if he was bothered about the lack of previous consent. “Yes, I saw. I believe I wasn’t to know about your purchase of a period romance film, lest I ‘revoke your man card.’”

Bing grinned sheepishly. “I might have known you’d watch that one.”

“I watched all of them, in fact.” He tried to speak the words lightly, but nevertheless Bing’s smile disappeared.

“I was afraid of that. That must have been rough watching.”

“It was.”

There was a pause, then Bing said, “I had no idea Lizzie disliked you so…intensely. I mean, she did seem more on edge when you were around, and ready to argue with you, but I didn’t realize how skewed some of her opinions about you were.”

“Then you knew more than I,” he said wryly.

Another pause, then Bing asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Darcy stared at him as realization hit. Bing hadn’t brought him here to talk about Jane, or at least that wasn’t his primary reason. Bing was concerned about him. It was strange, having the shoe on the other foot. Darcy wasn’t sure he liked or felt comfortable with it…but he also realized he couldn’t shut out his best friend.

“I did not like much of what she said,” he said hesitatingly. “But I needed to hear it.”

Bing’s eyebrows lifted. “You think she was right?”

“In part, yes. She said I’m rude and arrogant, and I admit I’d had little kindness or respect for anyone here. At times, not even for you.”

“You mean that scene she and Caroline were re-enacting when you came in?” Bing said in surprise. “I don’t think you were rude. I’d given you a hard time about coming down and spending time with the rest of us, and you gave me a hard time back. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh at Bing’s easygoing nature or be appalled that his friend was apparently accustomed to his rudeness and anti-social behavior. “Be that as it may…I am trying to do better.”

Bing nodded. “Does Gigi know about all this? Or Fitz?”

“Gigi, no. Fitz, yes. I wanted an impartial perspective, and he was kind enough to agree with Lizzie that I am a snob,” he said dryly.

That earned a chuckle from his friend. “Yeah…he’s probably right about that.” Darcy narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance, and Bing continued, “But hey, you’re improving already. You didn’t even complain today when I brought you to a chain restaurant.”

Darcy had to smile a little at that.

As their food arrived, Bing mentioned marathoning the videos with Jane. “Caroline thought that my finding the videos would be catastrophic, but it turned out just the opposite. Watching them with Jane was…really nice.”

Darcy took in Bing’s dreamy smile and naivete. From Caroline’s perspective, Bing finding the videos probably had indeed been catastrophic—to her hopes of limiting his entanglement with Jane, to their attempts at convincing Bing to leave Netherfield and return to med school in the fall. Not to mention that his own opinion of her had lowered after seeing her deception. But saying as much to Bing would serve no good purpose.

Instead, he focused on the last part of Bing’s statement. “‘Nice’ is the most tepid adjective you have applied to Jane to date, but I gather from your expression that it is an understatement.”

For a moment, Bing’s smile was unrestrained. “Yeah, it is.” Then he sobered, continuing hesitantly, “If you want, you can actually watch it. Lizzie had been filming already before Jane and I came in, and she asked about including some of the footage in her next video.”

Darcy tilted his head a little, his eyes narrowing in thought. Usually, asking about Jane Bennet elicited flights of near-poetry from his friend. “I take it you have adopted a no-spoilers policy?”

“No, I can tell you if you want. I was just…trying to be sensitive.”

“Sensitive to what?”

Bing was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. “You. I found out through watching the videos with Jane that she really does care for me. You…well, Lizzie feels the opposite.”

Oh. Darcy kept his expression impassive. “Unlike you and Jane, Lizzie and I are not dating.”

“I know. But you wouldn’t have watched all those videos if she was just another woman.”

Darcy looked down. He could not deny it, could not even formulate the words to continue deflecting. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I…don’t know what to say. Or even what to think.”

Bing nodded compassionately. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk it through sometime.”

Darcy thanked him, and they spoke of lighter topics during the remainder of lunch.

%%%

Continue working in his room or join the others? Darcy had finished an evening business call with colleagues in Singapore, and was not long in deciding. He took his phone and book and headed downstairs.

It wasn’t that he was eager for company or that dinner had been a resounding success. Caroline had embarked on a string of reminiscences that left the Bennets with little to say. Bing had attempted several times to steer the conversation to more general topics; Darcy himself had responded to Caroline only enough to avoid being rude.

Yes, dinner had been strange, but he still felt he should join the others for the rest of the evening. “Make something good come out of this,” had been Fitz’s parting advice when they spoke again last night, and while solitary self-examination and growth would continue to be a large part of that, so too would practicing better behavior.

He entered the lounge to find Lizzie alone, reading. “Excuse me, Lizzie. Er…where are the others?”

“Jane and Bing went for a walk. I’m not sure where Caroline is. I haven’t seen her since supper.”

“I see.”

Darcy selected a chair across and diagonal to her and settled in. He adhered conscientiously to his book for perhaps the first three minutes, until he happened to glance up and find Lizzie’s eyes on him, frowning slightly. She immediately looked away. It happened again a few minutes later, and then a few minutes afterward the tables were turned and she caught him looking contemplatively at her.

Clearly, neither of them was really reading. He wanted to say…something that would break this polite standoff between them. She had tiptoed around him at breakfast the last two days, sounding him out as to whether he was still angry with her. In fairness, he was probably no better. He did not understand Lizzie well enough now to know how to interact with her.

Still, it would be odd to be silent for half an hour together. He opened his mouth to say something about whatever book she was reading, but then closed it just as quickly.

Darcy is boring. Stuffy. Unbelievably rude. He heard the words as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud again. She appeared now to regret having aired such words in her videos, but that did not negate the fact that those were her true feelings. If he initiated a conversation with her, she would respond politely, but only for politeness’ sake. He did not want that. And so he returned to his book, mechanically dragging his eyes across the page, though in reality not taking much of it in.

“Still reading Shakespeare?”

Darcy looked up in surprise at her question. Was there a challenge in her voice? He could not tell, though it seemed likely given their previous heated debate over the dramatist.

“Yes,” he said, tilting the book for her to see the title: Henry IV, Part 2. It was his reading of Part 1 that had sparked their previous debate.

“Is there a Part 3?”

“In a way, this is Part 3. Shakespeare wrote a tetralogy on the English kings Richard II, Henry IV, and Henry V.”

“Oh” was Lizzie’s only immediate reply, and Darcy looked down, feeling at that moment the personification of “boring” and “stuffy.”

“Why do you like them so much?”

“I am descended from a soldier who fought under Henry V at Agincourt.” Her expression seemed to indicate genuine listening, so he went on. “Aside from the personal element, his character as drawn by Shakespeare is intriguing to me.”

“Why?”

Did she really want to know? “He is introduced as the wayward and undutiful Prince Hal, resisting the attempts of two opposing father figures to groom him in their image. But his father’s death forces him to take his place as king, and shouldering the responsibilities of the crown is transformative for him.”

Lizzie had been quietly taking it all in, then suddenly asked, “Is your dad a businessman too?”

“He was. My…parents are gone. There was an accident some years ago.”

Lizzie’s mouth rounded in surprise, and Darcy drew in on himself slightly. He hated being the subject of pity; that’s why he almost never spoke of the incident.

Then horror washed over Lizzie’s face. “Oh G--, and I said you were doomed to be alone for life! Of all the stupid, malicious things I could have said, I—.”

“It’s fine,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “You could not have known.”

“It is not fine,” she countered just as firmly. Then, quietly, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Darcy had heard those words before, dozens of times in the wake of the accident. But now they came from Lizzie, with a feeling tone and sympathetic expression that he had never seen before, not even in her videos. His gaze felt trapped by hers. “Thank you.”

A long moment passed, then he shook himself and changed the subject. “Are you still reading Tolstoy?”

“Yeah, still Anna Karenina,” she said, lifting the book from her lap for him to see. “The high school lit teacher assigned it as summer reading for the incoming juniors, and I’m tutoring a few of them.”

Ah, so she was a tutor. She must be a good one at that, else the parents would have hired someone studying for a literature degree rather than mass communications. “Are they as insensitive to the merits of Russian literature as I?”

Lizzie’s mouth quirked upward a little. “There’s a range. One of them is insensitive to the merits of all literature. Another has really dug into it and is planning to major in literature. The rest are somewhere in between.”

“Is Tolstoy—,” he began, but Bing and Jane entered at that moment. Jane started excitedly telling Lizzie about the beautiful sunset they’d seen on their walk, and Darcy was recipient of a curious but encouraging smile from Bing. Caroline joined them shortly thereafter, and there was no further opportunity for conversation with Lizzie.

Still, as Darcy stretched out and prepared for sleep that night, he found himself thinking again and again of Lizzie’s words.

Chapter Text

Friday, July 27

It was a relief that the others knew about her videos, Lizzie had decided. No more lies or side-stepping around the truth, no more worrying about who might crash one of her filming sessions. But what she had not anticipated was the potential for awkwardness now that her videos were fair game for dinnertime conversations.

“So, Lizzie, I see you posted a new video,” Caroline began.

“Yes, I did.” As expected, the viewers had loved watching highlights of Jane and Bing’s video marathon and their newfound understanding of each other…though the keyboard mashing had been saved for her introductory comments about Darcy.

“How lucky that you were filming when you told Bing about your videos! Otherwise your viewers would have missed out on all that cute footage.”

Bing smiled at those words, happy but self-conscious, and Jane reached to touch his hand. Lizzie, however, was watching Caroline’s expression and frowned a little. “I’m glad they gave me permission to post that footage, but I wouldn’t call it just ‘cute.’ I’m really thankful that watching the videos together gave them an opportunity to clear the air about everything,” she said, her voice softening as she smiled at her sister.

“Everything?” Caroline echoed. Bing, at whom that comment was addressed, did not reply.

“Well, I mean…,” she paused in confusion. “Is there something else they should have discussed?”

Caroline merely continued looking at her brother, and after a moment Lizzie turned to him too.

There was a long pause, then Bing looked over to Jane. “I’m…um…taking a break from med school.”

“‘Taking a break?’” Jane echoed, her eyes widening. “When?”

“Since a couple weeks before I moved here.”

Her mouth fell open. “That was…three months ago?”

He nodded. “Caroline is right, I should have told you before. I’m sorry. I was just burned out and…I haven’t really wanted to think about it. But we should talk about it. Maybe after supper?”

Lizzie’s mind was whirring. Though as surprised by the news as Jane, it actually did make sense now that she thought about it. Bing had bought a house and moved to a completely different town in the middle of the semester, and he had spent the last couple weeks as Jane’s glorified chauffeur rather than studying around the clock, which she surmised was required for med students. She looked involuntarily to Darcy to see his reaction, only to find him exchanging a glance with Caroline. Bing’s revelation was plainly not news to him, and Lizzie wondered suddenly if his long stay at Netherfield was related to it. His eyes now met hers briefly before fixing on Jane.

“Sure,” Jane said, her brow still knitted. Then she released a breath and smiled a little. “For all the talking we’ve done, I guess there are some really important things we haven’t talked about until this week.”

Bing relaxed a little at her tone, and Lizzie could see them holding hands under the table as they waited for the food to be passed.

The two disappeared after supper for a drive, while Lizzie ended up in the lounge with Darcy and Caroline. If she had hoped for a decrease in the evening’s awkwardness, she would have been disappointed, for Caroline failed in her repeated attempts to draw Darcy into conversation. What was he reading? Was that his favorite Shakespearean play? She preferred the tragedies herself. Had he seen the announcement about the new director of the Royal Shakespeare Company? He planned to stage all the plays in the space of a few years. She would personally love to see a live performance—“after all,” she concluded, “no one does drama like Shakespeare.” Darcy replied only sparingly; he certainly seemed less willing to talk, Lizzie thought, than when they had discussed Shakespeare and Tolstoy earlier in the week.

This had been going on for a while when Caroline’s wristband buzzed, one of those fitness bands that reminded her to move about every so often. She stood and circled the room once, then turned to Lizzie.

“Lizzie, why don’t you take a turn around the room with me? It feels good to move around after sitting for so long.”

It was a slightly weird request, but Lizzie shrugged and went along with it. The two of them meandered around the room, dodging furniture, then turned back to find Darcy watching them, his book closed.

“Won’t you join us, Darcy?” Caroline asked. When he didn’t answer immediately, she cajoled, “Come on, you can’t refuse two attractive ladies.”

Lizzie wasn’t so sure about that, but the ploy actually worked. Darcy joined them in their odd ritual, though he didn’t look very happy about it.

“Speaking of exercise,” Caroline began, “the Olympics started today in London. I’m so excited for the gymnastics! Remember how exciting that competition was last time?”

“Not really,” Lizzie admitted.

“What are you going to watch?” she asked Darcy. “The cycling, of course, since you’re an expert at that!”

“I find cycling more enjoyable to do than to view. And I am hardly an expert.”

“What about you, Lizzie? Oh, that’s right,” she continued without waiting for a response, “you like swimmers with—how did you put it?—‘burly bods.’ Isn’t that right?”

Seriously, what was her deal? Was she trying to make this awkward? Lizzie directed a questioning frown toward her…and noticed a challenging glint in her eyes that could not be disguised. It seemed she was trying to make things awkward, or at least to make Lizzie feel awkward. But why?

She had been acting weird ever since Darcy found them filming. Was that what this was about? Lizzie suddenly remembered her old suspicion that Caroline was interested in him. And now he had seen her participate in mocking him and lying about the videos. Perhaps he was upset with her, and she was trying to mend fences and make herself look good at another’s expense? But that seemed unlikely, Lizzie thought; if Darcy was not even angry with her, surely he would not carry a grudge toward Caroline.

So long was the pause that Caroline spoke again. “I guess she’s daydreaming about all those ‘burly bods,’” she said, directing a meaningful smile toward Darcy.

Lizzie raised her chin. No matter what Caroline’s motives, she was not going to participate in her little game. “You must watch my videos a lot, to quote me so exactly,” she said archly.

“Of course I do! You are my friend, Lizzie, and I care about what’s happening in your life.”

Had Caroline’s assurances of friendship always had that hollow ring in them?

“I’ve been wondering, actually,” she went on, “whatever happened to that ‘smoking hot’ swimmer you were so interested in?”

“If you mean George Wickham, I haven’t heard from him since swim week.”

“Oh no, how disappointing for you!”

You should know how that feels, she might have retorted if Darcy wasn’t there. But he was, and while he had remained silent during this exchange, a glance revealed him to be staring at her with some intensity. Anyway, she really was trying to cut down on the snark, so she just answered flippantly. “Not feeling super crushed about it.”

“I am so glad to hear that! I know how much you liked him—such a ‘rare gentleman,’ like you said.”

Did she have that video memorized, Lizzie wondered? She shrugged. “What can I say, it’s been out of sight, out of mind.”

A brief silence followed, and Lizzie wondered what tactic Caroline would try next.

Surprisingly, it was Darcy who spoke. “You seem to have enjoyed your visit with your sister this week.”

“My visit?” Lizzie echoed, confused.

“With Lydia.”

“Oh.” That left her even more confused. She had not mentioned seeing Lydia to anyone except Jane, and surely she would not have mentioned it to Darcy. “How do you know about…wait a minute…do you watch Lydia’s videos?” she asked, incredulous.

“No, but that one showed up in my recommendations this afternoon.”

“Oh. Yeah, we got together for froyo. That’s her favorite. And it was actually really good to see her. I hadn’t realized how I missed her.”

“Well, then maybe we should invite her over!” Caroline said promptly. “I’m sure she would enjoy sock-sliding all over the house again.”

Lizzie ignored her. “You know, you and Lydia actually have something in common,” she said, still looking at Darcy.

“Oh?” He asked politely but looked a little skeptical.

“Yeah. Neither of you want me to take my videos down.”

Darcy’s expression shifted then. He looked…thoughtful perhaps? Lizzie could not read his thoughts, but his gaze was intent upon her, and she found she did not want to look away.

“Oh, look at the time!” Caroline exclaimed. “We’re going to miss the opening ceremony! Here, let me turn it on.”

Lizzie looked away from Darcy at last and returned to her place on the couch. Darcy too resumed his seat and busied himself with his phone. The opening ceremony played out onscreen, but Lizzie had scant attention for it. The puzzle of Caroline’s behavior, and of Darcy himself, occupied her thoughts far more than the spectacle.

In her room later that evening, Lizzie rewatched her last few videos with her attention on Caroline. It was surprising just how much of their conversations she had missed, or now appeared quite different in hindsight. Caroline’s statement that she thought at first that the videos were childish, her encouragement to lie about them, her lack of concern over the consequences Lizzie might face for her ethics violations in them, her occasional expressions of boredom or even disdain when Lizzie wasn’t looking—it was all so obvious now.

Caroline had never truly welcomed her at Netherfield; she had always resented her presence. Lizzie rolled her eyes now when her video self apologized for misjudging Caroline. Yet another nail in the coffin of her idea of herself as a perceptive judge of character.

Why then did Caroline pretend? It wasn’t about being a good hostess; no imaginary etiquette could have required that she volunteer to be in the videos and help hide them from her brother. And why the change in her behavior now?

It had to relate to Darcy. On rewatch, Lizzie could see that Caroline had encouraged her to vent her frustrations about him. Her own feelings were not well disguised. “Is your house almost finished?” she had asked. “You know we love having you here. Before you and Jane showed up, I was all by myself with Darcy…and my brother. The more the merrier. How can I convince you to stay?” With the insincerity now stripped away, the true import of those words was plain.

And then…and then Darcy appeared and apologized for his early insult: “You are one of the most attractive women I have ever known, and I was a fool to state otherwise.” That was now in her videos, and Caroline had seen it. Could she possibly be…?

If she was, it was absurd. She was gorgeous herself and could have no reason to be jealous just because Darcy complimented another woman. If he had shown interest in her beyond that one compliment…but he never had. Or had he? A memory leapt forward unbidden, of Charlotte and Jane hijacking an early video to suggest that he was fixated on her. But Lizzie promptly shrugged away the possibility. Complimenting her once, looking at her fixedly during one evening, and months ago at that—only the wildest imagination would assume an interest based on that. And of course that was before recent events.

No, it was too absurd.

It was absurd, but it was not repugnant as it would have been not long ago. Lizzie scarcely knew what to make of Darcy now; her every assumption about him had been turned on its head, and this new jumble of observations had yet to coalesce into a firm likeness. His was a truly intricate character…but, it seemed, a good one.

Chapter Text

Saturday, July 28

Jane entered the kitchen that late afternoon intending only to fix herself a cup of tea. The smell of baking bread greeted her, and she was about to compliment Stephane on it when she caught full sight of the kitchen. It contained only Caroline, her hair tied back, her hands covered with dough, and an expression of utter frustration on her face.

“Oh hi Caroline, it’s so good to see you!”

“Jane!” Caroline said, relieved. “Quick, could you take the bread out? The timer went off a minute ago, and I can’t…” she gestured futilely with her hands.

“Oh, sure!” Jane quickly located the oven mitts and removed the French bread.

“Is it burnt?”

“No, it looks just perfect! Shall I brush it with melted butter?”

Caroline frowned. “Are you supposed to do that?”

“I usually do. It makes the crust more flavorful.”

Caroline assented, and Jane busied herself with the butter. “What are you working on now?” she asked, eyeing the mass of dough.

“It’s supposed to be gnocchi.”

“Mmm, that sounds delicious! And I know Bing and Darcy both love Italian food.” Caroline made no response, and after a moment Jane continued tentatively, “Is it supposed to be sticky like that?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said crossly. “I’ve been trying to follow the recipe, but it just won’t cooperate.” She finished with a thud of the dough.

“I saw a video once of an Italian chef rolling gnocchi, and I don’t think it was sticky. Here,” pulling out her phone, “let’s see what the internet says.” A couple websites later, she had to deliver the bad news. “It says that if the dough is sticky it’s better to just start over.”

Caroline’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t think I have enough potatoes to start over.”

“You could use pre-packaged gnocchi instead. I know it’s not the same as homemade, but—.”

“They sell pre-packaged gnocchi?” Jane nodded, and Caroline echoed it decisively. “Ok, I’ll use that. Oh, but I can’t leave right now! I haven’t even started with the rest of the meal!”

“I can go to the store—or better yet, let me ask Lizzie. She’ll be driving back soon from Charlotte’s and can stop on the way.”

Caroline looked ready to protest this, then abruptly turned her face away and started moving the dough to the garbage.

Jane quickly completed the call, then looked over to where Caroline was washing her hands. “Ok, what can I do to help?”

Some minutes and a couple minor crises later, Jane was almost finished chopping up the vegetables for roasting. Caroline, between tasks for the moment, was watching her. “You do that really smoothly,” she said suddenly. “If this fashion thing doesn’t work out, maybe you can be a sous chef.”

Jane looked up. “You make it sound as if you don’t think it will work out,” she said pleasantly.

Caroline shrugged. “Entry level fashion is pretty much a dead end.”

“It can be. Sometimes I’ve worried that it will be, for me,” she admitted. “But I’m working really hard at it, trying to learn all different sides of the business. My boss thinks I’ll be ready for an assistant merch position soon…providing one opens up, of course.”

Caroline said nothing, just smiled briefly before turning to rummage in the refrigerator. Jane smiled ruefully. “I guess that doesn’t sound very important compared with saving lives.”

“Right. Which Bing will be doing someday soon. But only after he returns to med school,” Caroline said with emphasis.

Jane nodded. “Yes, we talked about that last night. He’s not sure yet what his plans are.”

Caroline made what might have been a small scoffing sound. “Well it’s obvious what his plans need to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“He can’t finish med school if he keeps hanging around out here.”

“I know he can’t, and I’ll really miss him if he decides to go back,” Jane said with a small sigh. “But I’ll support him whatever he decides to do.”

“Really?”

Something about Caroline’s tone gave Jane pause. Her hands stilled, and she looked up. “Of course! I want what’s best for him, and if that means being apart for a while…well, like I said, I’ll miss him, but I’ll manage.”

Caroline was watching her, eyes narrowed. She seemed kind of on edge about the whole subject. But then again, she had been on edge all afternoon. Jane felt sorry for her, that the stress of making a perfect meal was only adding to her ongoing concern and worry for her brother. The kindest thing she could do would be to set her at ease and continue helping. “Ok, the vegetables are all chopped. Do you want to season them while I find a baking dish?”

“Sure,” said Caroline, her frown softening a little. “Thank you.”

“By the way,” Jane said as she started rummaging in the drawers below the ovens. “I was going to ask. I’ve been working on a dress, and…well, it’s jade-colored and I think it would really complement you. Would you be interested in modeling it for me?”

“What do you mean, modeling it?”

“For my lookbook. I would just need a few photos of you wearing it. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Caroline thought for moment, then said, “Sure. I’ve always liked jade.”

Jane beamed and expressed her appreciation, then set about preparing the pan.

%%%

Lizzie shouldered her backpack and was just reaching into the car for her camera bag when Darcy rolled up on his bicycle. She stood still for long seconds, taking in the sight—he really was distractingly hot in his cycling gear—then mustered a greeting. “Hey, Darcy.”

“Good afternoon, Lizzie. How was your day?”

“Good.” She smiled, then continued, “Really good actually. It’s been too long since I spent a day just hanging out with Charlotte.”

He nodded, then looked past her into the car. “May I help with your bags?”

Lizzie bit her lip. There really was quite a lot—Jane’s first request had been only for packaged gnocchi, but by the time she located that in the store Jane had texted with several other items. Apparently a spill of some sort had exhausted the paper towels, and they could not find where the spare rolls were stored, so a large bargain pack now rested alongside the other groceries. She could use the help hauling it all in…but given the tone of Jane’s initial call and the spill situation, she wasn’t sure what awaited her.

“Thanks, but I can get it all.”

He looked a bit skeptical, but said only, “It is no trouble, and I am going in regardless.”

Lizzie cast about for a reason to stall him. “Um…your bike! Someone might come by and steal it!”

“Putting it away will take only a few seconds.”

There was nothing for it. “Thanks, but I will be fine,” she said firmly.

“Oh. I see. Very well,” was all he said, but something about the way he looked down and turned away to park his bike gave her pause.

“Darcy…”. Her voice trailed off, but then again, she reasoned, he would find out about it soon enough anyway. Presumably that was the whole point of this. “Caroline is cooking tonight, and I’m, um, not sure if you should go in there.”

“Ah,” he said, looking toward the house with a weary expression. “I was not aware that she could cook.”

“Anyone can, I guess. It’s just a question of how well or…not well.”

He nodded. “Would you like some help carrying your groceries as far as the hallway outside the kitchen?”

This she gladly agreed to. “How was your day?” she asked in return as he bent to pick up a sack.

“Well enough. I finalized a presentation I’ll be giving on Monday.”

“And cycled.”

He inclined his head. “As you see.”

Lizzie looked him over. “You do that a lot.”

“Cycle? Yes, it is my favorite form of exercise. I also find the rhythms and solitude of it helpful when working through various issues.”

Their arms now loaded, they began walking slowly toward the house. “I used to use walking the same way, to help me think through things…or when I just needed to get outside the house. I guess I got out of the habit during last school year.”

Darcy made no response but looked down, his eyes narrowing. A snarky comment leapt reflexively to her lips, in defense against his judgment on her lack of exercise. But on second thought she stifled it. Instead, she waited a long moment, then said, “A dollar for your thoughts?”

“A dollar?”

She shrugged. “I figured the going rate for CEOs was more than a penny.”

That drew an unwonted smile from him. “I was just thinking that you seem to use your videos in the same way at times, to think things through.”

Lizzie opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again. “Yeah, I guess I do. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Is it difficult, making so much of your life public? I mean,” he quickly amended, “of course there is much more to your life than can be contained in a few minutes of video. But—.”

His voice trailed off as Lizzie snorted. “I wish. Did you have a life when you were in grad school?”

“Not to speak of.” Darcy looked down as he spoke, his voice quiet.

Lizzie studied his demeanor and bit her lip. She appeared to have hit upon a painful topic again. “Sorry, you were asking…?”

He appeared to shrug off his thoughts. “I was just thinking that vlogging as you do requires a rather high degree of transparency.”

“It does, and at first it weirded me out a little. Especially since Charlotte leaves in some things I would edit out if I were doing it. But I’ve been surprised by how much I enjoy sharing my life with my viewers.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I guess internet fame has gone to my head.”

“Was the choice not to edit yourself deliberate?”

“Kind of?” Lizzie opened the door with her free hand and stepped back to hold it for him. “I mean, I took the same classes as Charlotte, so I could do it myself. But she enjoys the production side, and I thought it would be weird to stare at my own face that much.” Seeing that Darcy was listening carefully, she went on, her speech coming more quickly in her enthusiasm. “So in the sense you’re talking about, no, it wasn’t deliberate. But now that we’re a few months in…I really like how her editing adds a level of mediation to the story. Really a counter-narrative at times. Dr. Gardiner and I were actually just talking about that last week.”

Darcy nodded. “Ah, I wondered if she might be your advisor.”

Her eyes lit even more. “Do you know Dr. Gardiner?”

“Only by reputation. I happened upon one of her papers several years ago and was intrigued. Her work on new media has direct application to much that Pemberley Digital does. We actually discussed her latest paper in a development meeting a few weeks ago.”

His voice lowered to a near-whisper toward the end due to their proximity to the kitchen, and Lizzie felt a surprising and keen disappointment that their conversation had come to an end. Darcy set down the groceries, gave another smile and nod in response to her mouthed “thank you,” and moved quietly toward the stairs. Lizzie watched him go and made a mental note. Pemberley Digital merited googling.

%%%

Caroline shut her bedroom door, stepped out of her shoes, and fell backwards onto her bed, feeling so frustrated she could cry.

It wasn’t that dinner had been a disaster. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every last dish had been delicious. That was due in part to Jane, of course, whose cooking skills matched her persona in fairy tale-like quality. Caroline had half-expected her to start singing to summon a horde of animals to help. Jane had deflected all praise for the meal, however, insisting that she had only helped with the vegetables and that Caroline deserved full credit for the success. That understated her role somewhat, and Caroline had made a polite attempt to correct her. But she was particularly proud of the French bread, which had been all her own doing. The internet’s idea of a “foolproof” recipe had been spot-on in that instance.

Compliments had come frequently throughout the meal, further buoying her spirits. Darcy had, disappointingly, not joined in, but his request for a second slice of the French bread was a compliment in itself. He had at last spoken to her at meal’s end: “Thank you for the meal, Caroline, Jane. It was very good of you to cook for us, and I'm sure Stephane appreciated having an extra evening off.” And he had assented readily when Bing volunteered them to clean up the dishes and kitchen “since the ladies prepared the meal.” It irked Caroline that Bing implicitly included Lizzie, who after all had contributed only a few groceries. But she could hardly point that out, and in any event she was not going to provide an opportunity for the domestic scene of Lizzie and Darcy sharing kitchen chores.

And so she had retired upstairs, exhausted but encouraged by the success of her day’s labor. Then she had realized she’d left her phone in the kitchen. And then, while fetching it, she had overheard Darcy and Bing talking…about Lizzie.

Caroline moved her forearm to cover her eyes, blocking out the light.

She and Darcy were perfect for each other. The more she knew of him, the more she became convinced of that truth. They lived in the same world, moved in the same circles. Shared nearly identical tastes in everything from the arts to humor to coffee. Shared a cynicism and detachment toward life, and an affectionate amusement at Bing’s utter lack of the same. They had initially also shared a purpose in coming to Netherfield. Darcy’s willingness to linger out here in the wild had given her the first inkling of the disastrous events that would follow, as the man who was ideally suited to her, who not long ago had flirted readily with her, became infatuated instead with a woman who could only be called monumentally unsuitable. Lizzie’s unreasoning hatred of him had been Caroline’s only comfort in the past weeks. Now even that was gone, and in its place was a Lizzie on her way to returning that infatuation.

It was infuriating. Alarming. Mortifying. It hurt.

At least the situation with Bing and Jane seemed less dire than it had only a day ago. Caroline had been scrambling tactically of late. At first she had taken a laid-back approach, simply echoing Bing’s own uncertainties about Jane’s interest and awaiting the inevitable cracks in her façade of sweetness. But Jane’s façade was seemingly impenetrable, and thanks to her mother’s scheming Caroline had started considering more serious measures.

Then Bing had watched Lizzie’s videos, with fallout every bit as disastrous as Caroline expected. She had watched the video of him and Jane with a feeling of near-hopelessness. She was going to fail in her responsibility to bring her brother back to his senses. He was on the verge of throwing away his entire future, and for what? To be chauffeur to a debt-ridden girl in a dead-end fashion job? Jane’s already powerful influence over him was nearing totality. Even the most drastic measure Caroline had considered before would be of no use at the moment. She could still arrange for Jane to be caught with another man, but in Bing’s present frame of mind, he would probably just ask her what had happened.

Desperation to drive a wedge between them had prompted Caroline to reveal Bing’s break from med school. Desperation…and the recognition that given his new commitment to Jane, her influence would be necessary if he was to return to school. It seemed unlikely that she would let him leave until he was permanently hooked, but it was just possible that she and her mother would covet his status as a doctor enough to risk it.

And based on her talk with Jane today, it seemed to be working. Either that, or Jane’s recent success was making her careless. It seemed almost too good to be true, that she would be willing to remain behind while Bing returned to med school. Once he was immersed in classes and textbooks and spending his time with more suitable women, she would be easily forgotten. Caroline’s chief concern now was if Jane’s willingness was genuine. She would not put it past her to say one thing during their chat today and something quite different when alone with Bing.

Still, that situation was somewhat promising. And Bing had readily accepted her explanation for not telling him about Lizzie’s videos, so she was safe on that front.

But her brother was only one of the two men she stood to lose. What could be done about Darcy? What tactic could you take with a man who found out a girl hated him—who listened to her spout every belligerent thought that entered her head on the internet—and still looked at her like Darcy looked at Lizzie?

Caroline lay there for long minutes, dredging her mind for ideas and growing ever more frustrated. There seemed to be no way Darcy could be worked on. Everything she’d tried in the past week had failed. Throwing him into Mrs. Bennet and Lydia’s company seemed the likeliest of success…but just yesterday he had voluntarily watched one of Lydia’s videos and seemed to have actually enjoyed it. Caroline shook her head. For now, she would be better off working on Lizzie—yet what could be done when even the mention of that swimmer she’d gushed about earlier in the summer was now met with indifference?

George Wickham. Caroline thought for a moment, then googled him. Some competition photos were her first discovery, and that Lizzie had not been exaggerating. “Smoking hot” indeed. Perhaps she would not be so indifferent if thrown into his company again. And hadn’t she mentioned the possibility of seeing him later in the summer?

A little more googling and Caroline found the team he coached and their upcoming schedule. This brought disappointment, for they would not be in town again for another month. As volatile as the current situation was, a month from now might well be too late.

Then she really struck pay dirt, in the form of email addresses for each of the team’s coaches. Caroline hesitated only a moment before composing an email with a link to Lizzie’s video about their first meeting. That sent, she turned her thoughts in another direction: how to hasten the swim team’s arrival in town.

Chapter Text

Sunday, July 29

They were headed to the Bennet home. Bing had been a little surprised when Jane suggested her backyard as the location for her photo shoot with Caroline. After all, Netherfield had plenty of picturesque settings to choose from—the sweeping staircase in the foyer, the sunlit atrium, or the arbor in the rose garden, just to name a few. But the Bennet home had several hibiscus that would be in bloom, and Jane thought they would be the perfect background. Bing was happy to go along with her plan, and Caroline acceded as well.

“I wouldn’t think there would be any construction workers on site on a Sunday,” said Jane as he drove them across town. “And the hibiscus are away from the house, so hopefully there won’t be equipment in the way.”

“There’s that park a couple blocks away, right?” Bing asked. “We could go there if necessary.” Jane nodded her agreement.

At first, the sight of a work truck in the Bennets’ driveway made it seem that their alternate location would be necessary. Jane got out and walked around the house to talk to the workers while Bing and Caroline waited in the car.

Jane returned a few minutes later. “The house is done!” she exclaimed, beaming. “Mom and Dad signed off on the work on Friday, and the guys are just here picking up the last of their equipment.”

Bing smiled and tried to share in her excitement as he should. He knew Jane was truly enjoying her stay at Netherfield, but it was only natural that she would miss her home. He suspected today’s photo shoot location was as much about that as the hibiscus. She and her family’s lives had been disrupted for almost a month, and of course they would be relieved to reunite in their own home.

“I’m going to let Lizzie and Lydia know,” Jane said as she tapped out a text on her phone.

That task completed, she led them into the house. The living room furniture had been pushed together in the center of the room and was covered with sheet. The room also smelled faintly of fresh paint, so Bing opted to wait in in the kitchen while Jane and Caroline headed upstairs with the garment bag.

Jane returned a minute or so later. “Caroline will be down as soon as she finishes touching up.”

Bing nodded, reaching for her hand as she seated herself next to him at the table. “I had a look in the backyard, and there’s no equipment or tire tracks or anything next to the bushes.”

“Perfect!” she said, beaming. “Oh, and I let Caroline know that I heard back from Lizzie. She’s going to pack up this afternoon.”

“There’s no rush,” he said regretfully. “We’re happy to have both of you stay as long as you want.”

Jane threaded their fingers together. “I know, and we’ve had a wonderful time and are so grateful for your hospitality. But it has been a while, and Lizzie wants to get home before the work week starts.”

Bing nodded, resigned. The mention of Lizzie carried his thoughts to Darcy. His friend had been even more introspective and absorbed by work than usual during his stay at Netherfield, and it was only in the last few days that his mood had lightened to…well, not exactly happiness, but at least enjoyment. That change had everything to do with Lizzie, who seemed to be undergoing a change of her own where his friend was concerned. Bing had noticed an actual, though fleeting smile pass between them at dinner the night before and had tentatively brought it up while he and Darcy were cleaning the kitchen.

“We’ve had several conversations lately,” had been Darcy’s admission, with a hint of smile that said much more than words.

“And?”

“And she is asking me a lot of questions.”

“Well that sounds promising, if she’s trying to get to know you better.”

“Perhaps,” Darcy said, his expression solemn once more. “Though it remains to be seen whether she will like what she finds.”

That was an unusual comment, coming from Darcy, and Bing frowned a little as he remembered it. Lizzie’s departure couldn’t come at a worse time, and Bing made a mental note to text Darcy and alert him as soon as he had an opportunity.

A couple more minutes passed in thoughtful silence, then Bing’s attention was drawn by Jane’s squeeze of his hand. “Is something wrong? You’ve been quiet all day.”

“My parents called this morning to talk about school plans.”

“What did you say?”

Bing shrugged. “I mainly listened.” He paused, then continued, “Now that you’ve had a few days to think about it, what do you think?”

“Have you thought about the question I asked?”

“You mean, why did I decide to go to med school in the first place?” At Jane’s nod, he frowned a little. “I didn’t, exactly. I mean, I never sat down and weighed pros and cons and decided to be a doctor.”

“Why then?”

“I’ve been trying to remember that,” he said, his gaze far away. “Caroline broke her arm when I was five. When we got to the emergency room, my dad started treating her, and I was so upset that mom had to take me to another room. She finally distracted me by teaching me about different kinds of fractures and how they look in x-rays. She’s a doctor too, you know. Afterward I explained what a greenstick fracture was to Caroline and anyone who asked about her cast.”

“Oh, that is so sweet! I’m sorry Caroline was hurt though.”

He nodded. “I don’t know if my parents already wanted me to be a doctor before then, but ever since…there was never really a question about it.”

“And what about now? If you weighed the pros and cons now, would you choose to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Helping people, and giving back—that will always be important to me. Of course, being a doctor isn’t the only way to do that. But it is a good way, and…I don’t know, my parents are both so good at it. I just assumed I would be too. Then with all the classes, and the stress, I got burned out, and just…left.”

Jane trailed her hand along his arm reassuringly. “Bing, there is no shame in needing a break, or taking time to reflect and make sure whether you’re on the right path.”

“I know,” he said, though not very convincingly even to himself. After another pause, he continued, “Sometimes I think…I don’t want to always wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t quit during first year, if maybe I would have adjusted if I’d just toughed it out a little longer.”

“So you’re thinking of going back and giving it another try?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But…”.

“But what? What’s stopping you?”

“You,” he said, looking up from his introspection. “Jane, med school is…it’s all-consuming. I fell out of touch with so many people last year, even Caroline and Darcy for a while. Fortunately they understand how work can take over your life. But if I go back…I don’t want to lose you. To lose us.”

“You won’t,” Jane said, her eyes looking confidently into his. “If we’re meant to be, and…and I think we are, then we’ll make it through, even if we have to be apart for a little while. I know med school is demanding, and I will be understanding when you’re busy. I’ll visit you when I can, and when I can’t…well, I’ve been told I make great care packages.”

He smiled a little at that. Jane continued, “But Bing, no matter what you decide, I will be your biggest supporter all the way. Just like you’ve become mine.”

Bing released a deep breath. With Jane looking at him with that depth of caring and assurance in her gaze, the decision he faced seemed…lesser, somehow. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Jane’s lips curved into a smile as he dropped a kiss on her nose. She returned the gesture with a light giggle, and they would have continued had not Caroline entered the room.

“Oh Caroline, you look great!” Jane exclaimed. “I like how you put a little wave in your hair!”

“Thank you,” Caroline said simply.

“I don’t know that we need any last-minute alternations,” she asked, examining the dress with a critical tilt of her head. “What do you think?”

Caroline agreed, and they moved outside to begin. The photo shoot proceeded smoothly. Caroline posed easily, and as Jane used only her phone without further camera or equipment, there was little for Bing to do except compliment both women whenever Jane paused to show him her latest snaps. At the end, he suggested taking a photo of both of them. The sight of the two most important women in his life arm in arm and smiling at him only added to his contentment.

“And now,” he said, pocketing his phone, “may I take the two most beautiful women in town to dinner?”

%%%

Caroline sat in the seat behind Jane as Bing drove back to Netherfield. The sun was setting, commanding his and Jane’s attention, but Caroline spared only a few glances at it.

Today had been…interesting. Caroline had never really believed Jane was involved in her mother’s schemes to keep her at Netherfield, but if she had any doubts, today’s events settled them. Jane had clearly not checked to ensure that construction was still ongoing before taking them to her home, nor did it seem to occur to her to be embarrassed that her mother had let nearly a whole weekend pass without informing her that the house was finished. Lizzie would have been mortified and noisily apologetic at the news. Caroline, had she been in Jane’s position, would have simply redirected the photo shoot to the park without revealing the truth.

But Jane had done neither, and Caroline wasn’t sure what to think about that.

And then there was the conversation she’d overheard between Jane and her brother. There was satisfaction, of course, in hearing Jane follow through on her promise to support Bing if he decided to return to med school, and greater satisfaction still that he seemed close to a decision to do so. After months of frustration, things finally seemed to be taking the correct course…though knowing how easily Bing changed his mind, Caroline didn’t dare fully hope that she had accomplished her purpose.

Jane’s professed belief that she and Bing were “meant to be” was idealistic and trite, just the kind of thing Bing would fall for. But there was also something…appealing in what she said. “No matter what you decide, I will be your biggest supporter all the way”—Caroline had never in her life heard those words. She didn’t, couldn’t believe Jane truly meant them. No one could, surely.

But more than anything, it was Bing’s words that stayed with Caroline. She had not noticed any difference in their parents’ hopes for him after she broke her arm. She did not even remember their mother taking him aside; she remembered only the injury itself, the pain afterward having mercifully faded from memory. But now memories of the aftermath trickled back to her, memories of Bing. He had followed her around constantly in the weeks after her injury, opening doors, cutting up her food, carrying things, even pleading to go to her class and help with her schoolwork. At last, she had snapped an exasperated refusal, reminding him that he couldn’t even read yet and wouldn’t understand the lessons. That had ended the matter, but he had still hovered quietly near until her cast was finally removed.

Caroline clasped her purse in her lap and watched Bing’s profile in the fading light.

Chapter Text

Sunday, July 29

The house is done. Jane says Lizzie’s leaving today.

Disappointment surged through Darcy as he read Bing’s text, as much for what it didn’t say as for what it did. The house was done…and Lizzie was seizing the earliest opportunity to leave. Maybe she had left already. He stepped to his window and saw with some relief that her car was still outside. But that would change all too soon. The routine of seeing her at breakfast and throughout each day, the excitement of knowing that a chance encounter was possible at any moment—all would be gone, replaced by infrequent and unpredictable meetings.

He would miss her. That did not surprise him, but the ease of admitting it to himself did.

The obvious solution was, of course, to take steps toward seeing her more frequently. He would take those steps with alacrity if he felt more sure of his ground. More sure of her.

Lizzie acted differently toward him now. It wasn’t just that she asked him questions, as he’d told Bing. She had always done that, but these questions were different, without an edge, questions that did not put him on the defensive or assume she knew the answer. How he had mistaken her former behavior for interest in him was increasingly bewildering.

Was her behavior now indicative of interest though? Or was it the contrast only, the lack of animosity, that deceived him? Lizzie had detested him, perhaps even hated him, only a week ago. People didn’t change their minds that quickly, especially one like Lizzie who, he had it on her best friend’s authority, hated changing her mind.

Enough. This way lay madness. Lizzie was making an effort to know him. Surely that was enough for now. He would do better to concentrate on the necessary changes to himself instead of obsessing futilely over the changes in her.

The reminder given, Darcy lifted his chin and walked swiftly toward Lizzie’s door.

“…next time you see me, I’ll be—.”

He knocked at her partially open door before registering that she was filming a video. She sat on the end of her bed, facing the camera. “Excuse me, Lizzie,” he said apologetically. “I did not realize you were filming. I can return later if—.”

“Oh, no, hi!” she said, halting a little. “You’re fine, I was just wrapping things up. Do you, um, want to say hi?” she asked, glancing toward the camera.

“Sure.”

She shifted over to make room for him, and, mindful of needing to be in the frame, he seated himself closer to her than he would otherwise have.

“Well, everyone, it looks like you’re finally getting your wish—meet William Darcy,” she said with a flourishing gesture in his direction.

Darcy inclined his head. “Good afternoon, everyone. Or…er, morning I suppose, by the time you see this.” What was it she’d said, “my viewers are kind of weirdly obsessed with you?” He tucked his chin a little and turned back to Lizzie.

“Did you need something?”

“No. That is…Bing messaged me that you were leaving, and I came to see if you needed any help carrying your things down.”

“Thanks! I’ve been packing, but I ran out of space. I guess I brought over more stuff in the last few weeks than I realized.”

His gaze followed her gesture to the suitcase in the corner and other small piles scattered around the room. “I believe Caroline kept their moving boxes, so there should be quite a few in the storage area. I can bring as many as you need.”

Lizzie raised a teasing eyebrow. “Fetching and schlepping boxes? Sounds like you’re eager to get rid of me.”

“Not at all.”

“Oh.” She took in his look. “Well, ah, thank you.” She turned back to her viewers. “What did I tell you? William Darcy, very decent indeed.”

“I’ll never live down those words, will I?”

“Not a chance,” she retorted, and he found himself smiling slightly. For him, the words still stung, emblematic as they were of his rudeness and selfish disdain. But that Lizzie would now tease him with them was nothing short of remarkable.

Darcy excused himself then and returned a few minutes later to find her standing at the closet, emptying the last few hangers. “I brought these boxes,” he said unnecessarily, setting two on her bed. He noticed as he did that her camera was still on. “This one should be large enough for your costume theater props, and more are available, if you need them.”

At Lizzie’s nod, he picked up the largest prop, the hat used for portraying her mother, and confirmed that it did indeed fit in the box. He added other props as well: Bing’s doctor’s mirror, Jane’s flower, Caroline’s scarf and sunglasses, Mr. Bennet’s pipe and hat, Lizzie’s plaid shirt. Then at last he picked up his own emblems, the familiar brown newsie hat and red bowtie. He paused, rubbing the bowtie slowly between his fingers.

Lizzie had not portrayed him in costume theater since he discovered her videos. He wondered if she had before he arrived today. He wondered if she would portray him any differently now, if her voice and expression would still be so harsh and rigid and unfeeling. He wondered if she had noticed the changes he was attempting to make.

He looked up to find that she had stopped as well, her eyes on him. “Thinking about burning them?” she asked, her tone joking but her expression hesitant.

“No. It has been…useful to see myself as others see me.”

She winced. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a true-to-life portrait.”

“Perhaps not entirely. But it was true enough to be cause for concern and attention on my part.”

Lizzie eyed him for a long moment, then sat down next to him. “You really are a forgiving person, aren’t you? I would never have guessed that.”

“Forgiving?” he echoed, surprised. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I try to give the benefit of the doubt, especially at first, but I find it hard to overlook immature or insincere behavior. And my trust, once broken, is never regained.”

Lizzie did not respond but looked at him with a thoughtful frown. They were within half a sentence of George Wickham, but Darcy was loath to bring him up, especially on camera. Instead, feeling uncertain, he added, “I suppose I’ve a tendency toward resentment.”

“And I tend toward judging and misunderstanding,” she said ruefully.

Judging and misunderstanding whom? Was it possible she referred to him, at least in part? It would be impossibly presumptuous to ask…and all too possible that she didn’t refer to him any more than he had referred to her.

Then, breaking the moment, she turned to face the camera. “Well, I think that wraps things up from Netherfield. The next time you see me, I’ll be with Charlotte and Lydia again. I know from the comments that you’ve missed them—and I have too. Bye everyone!” He nodded toward the camera as she moved to turn it off.

“Thanks for being in my video,” she said as she turned back to him.

“It was a pleasure,” he said firmly.

“I, um…I think my viewers are going to be really excited to see you. Your notifications might be a bit crazy for a few days.”

“They have not troubled me to date, and I am accustomed to some degree of public notice. I am not concerned.”

Lizzie smiled and nodded, then quickly filled the other box. Darcy watched, more reluctant than ever to see her leave.

“Looks like I need just one more box,” she said.

He was just leaving the storage area again when inspiration struck. He ascended the stairs quickly, making his way back to Lizzie’s room.

“Will there be any food at your home?” he asked upon entering.

Lizzie looked up from where she was packing away her camera. “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that,” she said blankly. “Mom emptied everything from the refrigerator and freezer before we left, so probably not. I’m not sure what we’ll do for supper…maybe order a pizza or something.”

“There are leftovers here, from last night, if you would like to eat before you leave?” he gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh! Thanks, that would be great,” she said, smiling at him again. “I’m glad you thought of it.”

Darcy found himself smiling as well a few minutes later as they walked together toward the kitchen. He too was glad he’d thought of it.