So, a couple of days ago, I wrote a story called Costume Theater (found here: s/8924838/1/Costume-Theater). While this is not a sequel or follow-up (I promise, I'm working on it), it is a more in-depth view at how exactly Lizzie and Darcy found themselves playing pool, and more Lizzie being playful with Darcy. I've tried my best to write this story to stand alone, but I'd recommend reading Costume Theater first, as there are a few things that will make more sense and are talked about more in-depth. All you really need to know is that Lizzie and Darcy are tentatively friends at this point, and it's set a couple of weeks after episode 80.

Anyway, whether you read Costume Theater or not, I hope you enjoy my strange tribute to billiards, Clue, and specific terminology, and thank you for reading.

I will point out once again that I, to my knowledge, am not Jane Austen reincarnate. I'm also not any of the writers on the LBD, sadly. Therefore, the LBD and Pride and Prejudice do not belong to me.

"You have a billiards room."

"I would hardly call it a-"

"Of course! Why was I expecting anything less from Pemberley Manor?"

"It's not a manor, Lizzie-"

"What would you like me to call it, then? Pemberley Estate? Pemberley Mansion? Pemberley Hall? Or should I just make up some kind of pretentious name for it, like Netherfield?"

"Call it a house, Lizzie, considering that's what it is."

"Then where do I live? A cardboard box?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. It's still a billiards room."

One of Lizzie Bennet's new favorite pastimes at Pemberley Digital was pushing William Darcy's buttons.

She was getting rather good at it, if she did say so herself.

While they waited for Gigi to return from tennis practice so they could all go to a new modern art exhibit, Darcy had taken it upon himself to give Lizzie the proper tour of the Darcy home, which Lizzie had come to refer to as Pemberley Manor, due to the enormous size of the mansion and the classical decorating. Gigi had given her a rudimentary tour the first day she'd come over, but as Lizzie had seen that first day at the offices, Gigi's tour-guide skills were...lacking, to say the least.

She'd essentially just pointed at various doors and entryways and called out room names. "Kitchen! Living Room! William's Office! Sunroom! Den!"

Still, even from what little she'd seen that day, Lizzie had been able to gather that the Darcys' home was as beautiful as their company. It was all timelessly elegant, a far cry from Caroline's over-the-top decorating at Netherfield and the tacky displays of wealth at Catherine de Bourgh's palatial compound. Sadly, it was obvious much of it wasn't used.

It made sense to Lizzie. Darcy was CEO of a company; between work and traveling, he didn't exactly have the time to sit and read in the library all day or wander around the garden outside. Gigi was nearly as busy, constantly shuttling herself between classes, tennis practice, and the offices. It was a wonder the house got any use at all, really.

It was still sad to her, though, tragic that no one really lived in such a house.

Darcy knew the place astoundingly well for someone who barely seemed to come out of his office. He knew some story for every room, whether it was the tale of how his father had somehow turned a job offer into a marriage proposal to his mother, to the time that John Steinbeck had personally given his close friend, the first William Darcy, signed first editions of all his books. None of them were about him or his sister, but Lizzie could understand why. Nothing could seem the same when half your family was just gone one day. It was easier to tell other people's stories than to relive your own.

So, after many stories and Lizzie constantly teasing Darcy about his family's wealth and prominence, they came to the billiards room. Well, Darcy called it a "lounge," or something equally vague. However, a room that had several well-stuffed armchairs and a couple of bookcases set around a massive mahogany pool table in the center of the room was obviously a billiards room. Darcy couldn't fool her with his falsely-modest descriptions.

Just a house. Right.

Just a house with its own tennis courts, an Olympic-sized pool, gardens, industrial kitchens, and at least twenty rooms.

He was lucky she wasn't calling it a castle.

"Were your parents fans of Clue? The resemblance is uncanny." Lizzie said, stepping into the room and running a hand along the smooth wood of the table.

Darcy rolled his eyes, "It's not a billiards room just because it has a pool table. By that definition, any room with a book in it would be a library."

Lizzie shook her head, "Oh, no. 'Just a room with a pool table' is my dad's office, where it's been crammed in a corner for the past seven years. This is a room for pool and pool alone. Therefore, a billiards room."

Lizzie laughed at Darcy's exasperated expression as he said, "Fine, then. Call it what you want. But, the house is not a manor."

"You are such a liar." Lizzie teased.

"It's my house." Darcy pointed out.

"Yes, which obviously means you're going to be biased." Lizzie shot back, smirking at him.

Somewhere along the line, Lizzie had stopped being so careful around Darcy. After a few outings with him, along with Gigi and Fitz, and their second, hilariously bad actual attempt at costume theater starring Darcy as Bing, she'd just felt that she didn't have to be so guarded, so constantly cautious about offending him. If they were going to be friends, maybe it was time Darcy saw Lizzie a little more herself. If he didn't like her that way, so be it.

She hoped he did, though. She wouldn't have admitted it if pressed, but Lizzie did care about Darcy's opinions of her.

Lizzie frowned as she lifted her hand off the table and saw her fingers lightly coated in dust. It was such a waste. She couldn't help but be reminded of their cheap old table that tilted to one side after an unfortunate "accident" during Lydia's freshman year of high school in which one of the table's legs broke, half the balls went missing, and the table mysteriously smelled strongly of Corona. Of course, Lydia claimed complete innocence, despite the fact that she'd been home alone on a Saturday night the weekend of the incident. The table was useless, now covered in her father's papers and used books. She missed playing on it, the intense tournaments that would strike up between her and Lydia on school nights when they had nothing to do.

Suddenly, she was struck with an idea. "Let's settle this." Lizzie grabbed a cue off the wall and set the triangular ball rack in the center of the table.

Darcy seemed both intrigued and slightly wary as he asked, "How?"

"A wager," Lizzie said, cringing as she saw Darcy's expression. She'd forgotten about the mess with Wickham and his decidedly un-academic pursuits. "I mean, not with money. Just a game to...decide terminology. It sounds really stupid, but-"

"If I win, you stop calling the house Pemberley Manor?"

"Right," Lizzie nodded, and she couldn't help but grin as she added, "But, if I win, I get to call it Pemberley Manor to my heart's content. No complaining from you. And this is a billiards room, and you have to admit it."

Darcy rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a cue of his own off the wall, "Deal."

As they set the balls in the rack, Darcy added, "Although, in the interest of full disclosure, I must confess I've never been very good at pool. Fitz had to teach me how to play."

Lizzie pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin, "Oh, don't worry about it."

Darcy removed the rack and gestured at Lizzie, "You first."

Lizzie leaned over the table, lining up the cue before shooting the white ball into the triangle, knocking them off in a million directions. She couldn't hide a small smirk as the navy and yellow balls hit their targets. "Guess I'm solids."

Darcy sighed, giving her the same disapproving yet slightly amused look he'd given Gigi when she'd tricked the two of them into a room together. "Somehow, I suspect this isn't exactly a fair game."

Lizzie held up her hands, "Hey, I never said anything about my own skill level. Your failure to ask is your own misfortune."

"I thought you valued fairness and honesty."

"When it suits me." Lizzie said, glaring at the red ball as it fell short of its destination.

"Did your father teach you to play?" Darcy asked as he prepared for his own shot.

"Um, no," Lizzie said, surprised that he'd held on to that small detail about her own pool table, "My father can't play pool to save his life. It was actually...my mother." Lizzie laughed a little at the memory of being taught to play by Mrs. Bennet, instructing Lizzie, who struggled to see over the top of the table, on how to hold the cue and break the balls in that deep-southern accent she'd held on to, despite being out of Mississippi for the past thirty-five years.

Even Darcy laughed softly at that, unable to contain amusement at the thought of Mrs. Bennet being some kind of ace pool player, "Be serious, Lizzie."

"I am! How could you not believe me?" Lizzie said in mock-outrage, before she continued, amused at the utter disbelief on Darcy's face, "No, it really was my mother that taught Lydia and I to play pool. She apparently used to use it to pick up men at Ole Miss - she'd pretend that she was a complete amateur, wager a drink, and blindside them. She felt it was essential for us to know, in her quest to get us husbands, how to scam men, apparently."

Now it was Darcy's turn to smirk at her, "So, you're scamming me now?"

Lizzie opened and closed her mouth, blushing. She hadn't meant it that way, but it certainly sounded like it, after that story. But, Darcy was Darcy, not some random guy in a bar. "N-No, not like that. Just a friendly game over terminology."

Darcy shook his head, smiling ruefully as one of his balls sank, "Oh, no, Lizzie, you can admit it. It's my own fault, anyway. Half of my job is seeing through scams, and yet I've missed the most obvious among them."

"I maintain my innocence. Unlike my mother, I'm not using my skills for nefarious purposes. I'm using them for...education." Lizzie replied.

"And how exactly is this educational?" Darcy asked, clearly entertained by her weak defense. Anyone else would've been angry with her at this point, or at least mildly annoyed in his situation, hustled and stuck in an unfair game. But, to Darcy, it all just seemed a great joke, as his eyes darted between the table and Lizzie, lit up with a spark of amusement.

"I'm teaching you that a room with a pool table in the center is defined as a billiards room. Obviously." Lizzie replied as she took a shot of her own, gently nudging the green ball forward into the corner pocket.

"You're quite the teacher." Darcy laughed, watching her put the orange ball away.

Lizzie looked down, shrugging as a small smile flickered across her face, "I try, although I think my talents are better suited outside schooling."

Darcy stepped away from the table to chalk his cue, looking at her more seriously now, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle, "So, what do you want to do with your life, Lizzie Bennet?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, "Where did that come from?" It was an odd question to ask, one of the most personal and all-encompassing parts of a person's life. Their dream. It didn't fit in their joking game, but Darcy seemed to have some purpose behind the question. Lizzie wasn't sure if she wanted to indulge him with an answer or not.

Darcy's tone became playful again as he responded, "Well, you seem to be masterful at hustling people at pool, so I wondered if the mass communications studies might simply be a cover-up for your true life goals." Lizzie couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, and at Darcy's strange method. Did he think he could confuse her into answering by rapidly changing the mood?

Lizzie shook her head, "No, that's just how I'm going to pay off the student loans."

Darcy wouldn't let it drop, though, still watching her. " Are you looking to be a YouTube celebrity, or do you want something more?"

Shouldn't that have been obvious? Of course Lizzie wanted something more. She wanted...She wanted to see the world. She wanted to have adventures and find true love and be successful and creatively fulfilled and happy. Even if she knew she couldn't have all of that, or even most of it, she still wanted it desperately.

But...maybe she hadn't really figured out how exactly she was going to pursue it yet.

Lizzie Bennet had gone through much of high school being asked what she wanted to do and responding that she had no idea. She knew she wanted to do something in entertainment, but what exactly that was was an open question. So, she majored in Mass Communications with Charlotte and assumed she'd just figure it out.

Flash forward to four years later, and she hadn't. But, that was fine, right? More study was necessary, anyway. A master's couldn't hurt. They were practically necessary to find jobs now.

Now, here she was at 24, and she still didn't know where she wanted to go. Not really. She adored Dr. Gardiner's lectures on media and interactivity, loved learning about all the techniques and concepts behind things that appeared so simple on the screen. But, where could she ever get a job where she applied those things right out of grad school? Was there even a job out there that would really encompass everything she wanted to do?

Hesitantly, Lizzie answered Darcy, not looking at him. She must seem ridiculous, nearly finished with her master's and still not a clue as to what to do with it. ""Of course I want something more. The videos are only a year-long project. Well, that's the way they're supposed to be. Maybe I'll make a few more, but I think I'm definitely ready to have my life out of the spotlight. Graduate, get a job, start doing the things I want to do."

Even that wasn't enough for Darcy, though. "Such as?"

Lizzie sighed heavily. Why did he care so damn much about everything? Why did he want to know these things about her?

Because we're friends, she thought to herself, and sometimes, friends ask you the hard questions.

Maybe Darcy knew how to push some buttons of his own.

"I, um, I don't really know yet. I think something in web media, definitely. Serving as a creative director on scripted projects, maybe writing...I'm going to VidCon again this year to see. Figure out what might be out there for me to do."

She waited, expecting the reprimand, the look of disapproval, perhaps even a laugh. Here she was with a 28-year old CEO, completely unable to choose a career, a skill most people picked up at the age of six. But, Darcy just smiled slightly as he watched his ball sink, still trying to put that puzzle together.

When he spoke, all he said was, "Would you like a reference letter? Pemberley isn't the best known company, but perhaps it could help you in whatever career you decide to go into."

Lizzie nodded, giving him a half-smile, "Of course, that would be fantastic, thank you."

Not just a thank you for the suggestion of a letter, a letter from a CEO that would hold great weight with any media company she chose to apply for, but for being kind. For not belittling her for having no plans, as many of her classmates had. For not making her feel like a child.

For being her friend.

Darcy shook his head, as if he'd finally found his answer, or just given up for the time being. "Would you like to work on it this Wednesday? At lunch? I know that's when you film your videos, but it's the only day I have free."

Lizzie couldn't stop looking at Darcy, looking for the answer to why he would be so kind to her, when she'd never returned the kindness, "Wednesday works for me," she said, pausing a moment before she added, "Thank you, really. You don't have to write me a letter. I mean, you're the CEO."

Darcy just gave her a bashful smile, "You're my friend. Anything I can do to help you get where you want to go."

Lizzie looked away, grabbing the cue as an excuse not to meet his gaze. Fitz had been right, all those months ago; Darcy really would do anything for his friends. Even if it wasn't the right thing to do, he tried.

Even though it had hurt her sister so deeply, she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him for trying to help his friend. Not anymore. Not when she knew that he wouldn't have done it to purposefully hurt Bing. He wasn't malicious or purposefully cruel, that had become obvious.

He just made mistakes sometimes, and Lizzie Bennet was the last person on Earth who could judge anyone for making mistakes.

"Thank you." Lizzie said again, with as much sincerity as she possibly could, attempting to mask her internal confusion and that lingering feeling of disappointment.

That small, secret feeling that she'd gotten that she couldn't place, the stupid feeling that she'd wanted Darcy to give another reason, no matter how ridiculous and far-fetched that reason would be. No matter that the reason didn't exist.

She and Darcy were looking at each other again, with Lizzie paused midway to the pool table, holding the cue in one hand. She felt the moment that appropriate eye contact would've broken slip past, but she couldn't be the one to break it.

"William! Lizzie!" The spell broke and Lizzie turned to see Gigi Darcy in the doorway, a strange expression on her face.

"Hey, Gigi." Lizzie said weakly, waving with her free hand.

"Are you about done in here? Because I can wait if you-" Gigi said quickly.

Darcy looked over at Lizzie for confirmation, "I think our game is about done."

Lizzie nodded, "Yeah, I think we're good."

She glanced at the table and saw two solid balls and four stripes remaining. She smirked at Darcy, "Looks like I win."

Gigi shot her brother a confused look, "Really? Usually William's very good at pool. He even-" She stopped midsentence at a look from her brother, suddenly very interested in the carpet.

Lizzie's mouth dropped open. "William Darcy."

The other Darcy was also looking intently at the ground, although he wore a small, amused smirk.

"What was all that about fairness and honesty?" Lizzie challenged.

Darcy shrugged as he mumbled, "My father always told me that it was courteous to give your guest the advantage. At least in the first game."

Lizzie just shook her head in disbelief, laughing now. "We're having a rematch."

"Right now we have an exhibit to attend." Darcy said pointedly, grabbing his jacket off the chair, still looking slightly abashed at being found out.

"Fine, then. Afterwards. We'll play Clue, too. I need to show you that room." Lizzie said, following Darcy out of the room.

"Will you be attempting to take advantage of me there as well?" Darcy teased.

"No. I already won our wager, remember?" Lizzie said, grinning up at him.

"Surely you won't hold me to a wager made in an unfair game."

"Well, if both parties were unfair, I believe that balances things out."

Darcy just shook his head, "Fine, Lizzie Bennet. You win."

"C'mon, you two! We're going to be late!" Gigi called.

"So, are you up for a rematch? Completely fair this time, I promise." Lizzie asked.

"I'll consider it." Darcy replied.

"We'll have to finish our tour of Pemberley Manor some other time, you know." Lizzie said, bumping up against him as they both tried to exit through the main doors at the same time.

Darcy wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but he was smiling as he replied, "I think you can see the rest of the house on your own. I showed you the most interesting parts."

"Including the billiards room?" Lizzie asked, raising her eyebrows in anticipation of his response.

Darcy sighed before he conceded, "Including the billiards room."

Darcy and Lizzie eventually did have their rematch. It was a tie at two games apiece. They'd play semi-frequently for the remainder of Lizzie's time at Pemberley, whenever they were both there and not busy with work or other pursuits. There was no foul play after that first game, although there were several accusations of it after the fact (mainly when Lizzie was losing).

Lizzie called the Darcy home Pemberley Manor long after the game, much to Darcy's annoyance and amusement. Eventually, though, she too decided it was just a house, albeit a massive one.

However, she never ceased to call the room with the pool table the billiards room, nor did Darcy, as a man of his word.

Lizzie never forgot that game of pool. The day that Darcy hadn't judged her, when he had every opportunity to. The day she let go of that last prejudice against him, or at least as much of it as she could. The day that the two of them really, truly became friends.

The day that, secretly, Lizzie began to hope against hope for the impossible to be true, that perhaps Darcy hadn't changed his mind about her after all.