AN: This is part 1 of 2. The story begins at episode 88 and moves forward into the future, where it will undoubtedly be canonballed.

. . . . . .

regret: noun, a sense of disappointment or dissatisfaction; verb, to think of with a sense of loss

. . . . . .

Hours later, after they've told Jane and their father, after the hugs have all been given and the tears have all been shed and the tea has all been drunk, Lizzie sits alone on the back step, trying to sort through her thoughts. She's ecstatic, of course—ecstatic and relieved and so grateful to whoever it was that got the website taken down that she can barely keep it in. And yet there's something lurking at the back of her mind, some thought she can't get at like an itch she can't scratch, and it's keeping her from giving herself over completely to her happiness.

Maybe, she decides after a long while, it's that she wishes she'd known that everything would get sorted out so easily. Of course she's absolutely thrilled about it, thrilled about the fact that after only two weeks and through nothing they themselves have done, things have worked out. Of course Lydia's still in a bad way, hurt and confused and fighting the fact that some part of herself still loves George, but considering what they feared and expected only a few hours ago, they all got off easy.

But the point is, if they'd known that it would all get tied up so neatly, maybe she and Jane wouldn't have had to put their lives on hold and uproot themselves to come home. Maybe Jane wouldn't have lost her job in LA. Maybe Lizzie wouldn't have had to cut off her time at Pemberley Digital and leave behind her friends in San Francisco.

And she tries to ignore the thought as long as she can but it bubbles to the surface and she admits that yes, maybe it's that she wishes she'd known how easily and quickly things would be sorted out because then she never would have told William Darcy about any of this. She never would have admitted that her little sister had been manipulated, used and abused by Darcy's archnemesis, and she could perhaps have returned to Pemberley Digital once things were sorted out and pretend that nothing had ever happened. She would never have cut off the greatest career growth opportunity she'd ever had. And Darcy never would have grown cold toward her; they wouldn't have drifted apart like this. Darcy never would have known how right he was about Lizzie's family. Because that has to be what happened, right? He'd been so curt and distant there at the end, and he hasn't contacted her since, not even to see if she made it home okay, as she'd suspected he might. So all she can assume is that he's disgusted by the almost-scandal, that he doesn't want to associate himself with people like that.

But that thought makes her sit back and frown. Because if he's blaming Lydia for being taken advantage of and he's blaming Lizzie for being related to her, then she wants to have nothing to do with him. Because what kind of jerk would do that? Of course, deep down in her heart, Lizzie feels that the man who raised Gigi, who wore that ridiculous afro wig on camera, who sounded so concerned as he rubbed her shoulder and asked if she was all right, couldn't be that unfeeling. But she's been wrong about men before.

But in the end, no matter what he thinks of her now, she did tell him and he did stop caring about her and there's no use fretting over what can't be changed, so Lizzie stands up from the step and goes inside because it's time to stop thinking about this.

. . . . . .

She told Dr. Gardiner only that it was a family emergency, and her teacher was understanding and flexible and didn't press for details. But though she wasn't given a deadline for getting back to her studies, Lizzie wants very much to finish her degree, so she calls Dr. Gardiner the day after the video goes down.

"Ah, Lizzie," Dr. Gardiner says. "I hope everything is well with your family."

Lizzie smiles, even though Dr. Gardiner is on the other side of town and can't see the smile across the telephone line. "It is. Thanks."

"So," the professor says briskly, "let's talk about how this break will affect your schooling. Do you want to go back to Pemberley Digital to finish out your shadowing?"

Yes, absolutely yes, but also a resounding no. Lizzie doesn't know what to say, but she can't mention the reasons for her hesitation. "If you think I should, I can . . ." she begins hesitantly.

Dr. Gardiner laughs. "You'd rather just move on and finish up?" she guesses.

That's close enough, Lizzie says to herself.

"Well, you only had a week and half left at Pemberley, so why don't we just call that one completed? And your final company wasn't expecting you until the end of March anyway, so you should still be on track for that."

"That sounds perfect," Lizzie says gratefully.

"Excellent," says Dr. Gardiner, and the two make small talk as the call winds down.

"So I never got to ask you," Dr. Gardiner says, "did you enjoy your time at Pemberley?"

And Lizzie pauses, then bites her lip, and then a self-deprecating half-smile touches her face, and then as she reins her emotions in she thinks to herself that she's glad Dr. Gardiner can't see her right now so the only response she gets is Lizzie's very professional-sounding "It was a wonderful experience."

. . . . . .

A few days after the website disappears a letter arrives for Lizzie, one with a very familiar logo on the envelope, and her pulse quickens as she takes it upstairs to read in the privacy of her room. It doesn't seem like a personal letter—her name is printed, not written, on the envelope—but she can't stop herself hoping.

It's not a personal letter. "Dear Ms. Bennet," it reads, "We have appreciated and enjoyed having you shadow at Pemberley Digital. Your contributions to our team—" Frustrated, she breaks off and scans the rest of the letter. It invites her to submit her résumé after graduating, but that doesn't mean anything; she knows every intern gets this letter.

But at least maybe—she scans down to the bottom, to see whose name is signed there. It turns out to be Trenton Jones, and Lizzie drops the letter on her bed and sighs.

. . . . . .

"Reading again, nerdy older sister?" The nickname and the voice are familiar, but the tone is that of the new version of Lydia, quiet and hesitant.

Lizzie puts her book down and smiles up at Lydia. "What can I say, I've just got to know if Valjean is ever going to escape the ghosts of his past."

"Spoiler: he dies at the end. I've seen the movie."

At this Lizzie laughs and motions for her sister to sit beside her, and she considers it a major victory that Lydia does with only a moment of hesitation.

"I guess I should try reading some books some time," she says, glancing at the novel in Lizzie's hands. "I'm taking English summer term."

"You decided to do school this summer?" Lizzie asks. "I'm glad." And then she worries that sounds like she's trying to make Lydia more like her again, so she quickly adds, "If you're glad, I mean."

Lydia laughs a little. "Yeah, I'm happy I'm going back."

Lizzie smiles in return but she doesn't know what to say next—things with Lydia have improved dramatically but they're not completely easy with each other yet—so she's glad when Lydia speaks again. "And Mary will be happy to have me bothering her with my homework again."

And now Lizzie knows what to say. "I've always meant to tell you," she says, "how impressed I am by what you did for Mary."

Lydia scoffs. "I've never done anything for Mary."

"You've been her friend. You got her to think of you as a friend. That's something Jane and I never managed to do—I never even tried. I think she's been much lonelier than we ever realized, and you're the first one of us to form a real relationship with her."

"I needed her to help me study," Lydia says dismissively, but then she hesitates, and then she looks down at her hands in her lap. "And I guess I needed . . . a friend."

"And she needs you," Lizzie insists. "We all do." And Lydia meets her eyes and hesitantly smiles.

. . . . . .

She scrolls down her contacts list until she gets to the Gs, and there between George Wickham (ugh, why hasn't she deleted that yet? It doesn't work anymore anyway) and Ginny Smith she finds what she was looking for. One tap of her thumb opens the contact, and she stares at it a long moment, one finger hovering over the green call button as her eyes trace the D in Darcy. And then she shuts the phone and puts it away.

. . . . . .

Jane spends every morning poring over job listings online, preparing résumés and attending job interviews. She's not going to get a job at her old company, she admits to Lizzie one night, and then after a brief hesitation she admits she's unlikely to get one in the fashion industry, at least not right away. She pretends as though this information doesn't bother her, and maybe it actually doesn't very much. This is Jane, after all, and she would never begrudge anything her sisters asked her to do for them.

Lizzie asks if she's considered moving back to Los Angeles, and she shrugs. "Eventually, probably," she says. "But not now. I need to be here." And Lizzie puts her arm around Jane's shoulders and sighs. This isn't how it should be. Jane is wonderful and kind and hard-working and good at her job, and she should be rewarded for that, not stuck back in their little town with its limited opportunities. She can't blame Lydia for this, for so many reasons, so she blames herself. If she hadn't mistreated Lydia, none of this would have happened and New Jane could have stayed in Los Angeles and blossomed like a butterfly and become the fashion guru she's meant to be.

Except she's wrong, she realizes over time, if she thinks that New Jane is gone, lost somewhere in a cloud of exhaust over a highway headed out of LA. New Jane is still with them, using firmness in equal measure with kindness to keep Lizzie and Lydia from wallowing in self-pity. Old Jane couldn't have brought herself to be firm with them, especially with Lydia so upset, and Lizzie finally understands that New Jane is here to stay.

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ennui: noun, a feeling of weariness or dissatisfaction

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It's that they were so tense for so long that it's hard to return to normal life. It's that Lydia is still working through things very slowly and often alone. It's that Lizzie spent a month in San Francisco and now that she's back she understands why Caroline always thought that nothing happened in their little town. It's that she misses the life she'd begun to carve out for herself.

Whatever the reasons, she knows it's so ungrateful of her to be thinking it, now that Lydia is okay and things are going to be all right, but she still can't help but feel that lately everything has been just a bit flat.

. . . . . .

Lizzie hesitates, one hand lifted, then knocks on the door. After a moment it opens to reveal Lydia already dressed in her pajamas. "Hey," Lizzie says, "I was thinking of putting on a movie and I was wondering if you wanted to join me."

Lydia looks down and toys with the hem of her shirt. "I don't want you to feel obligated—"

"I don't," Lizzie cuts in, and Lydia looks up and smiles.

An hour later they are ensconced in the living room watching She's the Man, with Lydia leaning against Lizzie's knees and Lizzie playing with Lydia's hair, just like they were children again. "I have a theory," Lizzie says, "that Channing Tatum never actually acts, because he's actually that dim and likable in real life so for most movies he's in he's just being himself."

Lydia laughs. "And why would you need to be able to act if you've got got abs like that?" She's silent a moment, and then adds, rather less cheerily, "But I guess I've learned my lesson about liking guys based on their abs."

George is still a sensitive subject around here so Lizzie considers a moment then responds delicately, "Abs can be very distracting." And she can sense that this conversation is about to get serious so she calmly adds, "It was the shoulders for me."

Lydia laughs, surprised—a genuine laugh—and then is quiet for a moment. She rubs her arms, then says all in a rush, without turning around, "I should have known. I saw how he treated you, that he just left town and started dating someone else, but I still got sucked in somehow."

"I saw your videos," Lizzie says gently. "He was extremely persistent."

"I just convinced myself that it'd be different with me and him somehow." She hesitates, then says softly, "I know I messed things up for you."

"Have you been listening to my YouTube viewers again?" Lizzie demands. "Because anyone who says that is an idiot."

"No," Lydia says with a little laugh. "But I did watch your videos. I saw your last one at Pemberley. I saw Darcy trying to ask you out. I messed that up."

Lydia's words bring with them a reminder of the rush of feelings of that moment, the surprise and the trepidation and the unexpected pleasure, and Lizzie remembers what she's been trying to forget: that in the moment before her phone beeped, she'd planned to say yes. "That doesn't matter," she says, as much to her heart as to Lydia. "Maybe he still cared about me then but he sure got over that in a hurry. And I don't want to be with a guy who would just completely drop me like that in a moment of crisis."

After a moment Lydia smiles, and once she has turned her attention back to the TV, Lizzie takes a calming breath and then lets it out in a long sigh.

. . . . . .

Bing reappears in their lives bearing a bag of snickerdoodles. It's the sweetest thing Lizzie's seen in a long time, and on the basis of that alone she hopes that Jane will forgive him. And she will, eventually, Lizzie thinks; for the moment they're starting from scratch but if Bing keeps being completely smitten and completely adorable, they probably won't stay distant for long.

Mrs. Bennet is thrilled to pieces, of course, not only because her Jane has her rich handsome doctor back, but because she gets to haughtily inform Mrs. Phillips, when she comes over one day with gossip, that they in fact were already aware that Bing Lee had returned to Netherfield, and in fact he had visited them the day before, hadn't she heard?

But as the days go by without an announcement from Jane that she and Bing are officially back together, Lizzie starts to wonder if maybe some things can't be fixed, if some people who should have been together can miss their chance so completely that they never find their way back to each other. The thought makes her more uncomfortable than she expected.

. . . . . .

At the sound of the front door opening, Lizzie and Lydia glance at each other, then both scramble off the couch to rush into the front entryway. By the time Jane has hung her purse on the hall tree, the two younger Bennets are at her side, looking at her with expectant eyes.

Jane looks from one sister to the other, then breaks down and smiles. "It was a nice lunch," she informs them.

"Nice as in you're too polite to say it was horrible—" Lizzie starts.

"—or nice as in we're going to need bridesmaid dresses?" Lydia finishes.

Jane gives them both a fondly exasperated look. "It was one date," she reminds Lydia. "And it was nice as in . . . it was nice." She's smiling—she's Jane—but not in the way she did the first time around with Bing.

"Second date?" Lydia asks, but Jane only shrugs.

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revelation: noun, something revealed or disclosed, especially a striking disclosure, as of something not before realized

. . . . . .

The bombshell that shakes up her life that February—just one in a long line of bombshells over the past year—is lobbed at her by a most unexpected source.

"You do need to finish that interview with William Darcy," Dr. Gardiner points out. "You should contact him soon; I hear he's finally back in town."

Lizzie pretends to be only passingly interested. "He's been gone?"

"Oh, right," Dr. Gardiner says, "I'd forgotten that you left before he did. But I suppose you wouldn't have known even if you had been there; it was personal, apparently. There was some kind of scandal involving a family friend that he went to go help sort out."

For exactly six heartbeats, each of which Lizzie feels in her throat, there is silence. And then she sits up straighter. "Oh, really?" she says, and she's sure anyone could tell her disinterest is feigned. "What kind of scandal?" Then she pauses. "I don't want to sound like a gossip, but I got to know some of his family and friends while I was there . . ."

It's a weak excuse but Dr. Gardiner seems to buy it. "I'm not sure; I got this all third-hand from someone who knows someone on Pemberley's IT team. But apparently this girl's ex was selling a sex tape without her permission? So Darcy tracked down the ex and somehow got him to stop and destroy the tapes. Can't imagine how; it must have required a lot of money."

As her mentor speaks, Lizzie's hands curl tighter and tighter around the arm rests of her chair until her fingers hurt. So she's impressed with her own composure when she speaks. "That's incredibly kind of him. Could you excuse me a moment? I need to use the restroom."

Dr. Gardiner agrees and Lizzie gets up and leaves the office, her movements too careful, her hands beginning to tremble. And when she's reached the bathroom, she drops onto the couch for nursing mothers—she's not trying to be dramatic but her legs have literally given out—and cries.

. . . . . .

William Darcy. Twelve letters. Two phone numbers, cell and work, and a home address given her by Gigi. Lizzie stares at the contact information on her phone for what feels like days, her thumb hovering over the call button as her eyes trace over the pleasingly regular shape of the word William—a solid rectangle that tapers off on the right. She told herself all the way back from campus that when she got home she was going to call him and ask what Dr. Gardiner had meant and where is this coming from and oh my goodness is it true, but now that she's here sitting on the floor of her old bedroom she can't bring herself to hit the call button. Instead she stares at his name and thinks that William is a nice solid shape but Will would be a perfect rectangle, almost a perfect square, depending on your typeface. Perfectly regular and respectable and reliable, perfectly square Will. The perfect name for a guy who would sweep in and save the sister of an acquaintance from a scandal.

Lizzie heard it an hour ago and hasn't stopped reeling yet, because William Darcy hates George Wickham and surely cleaning up his mess is as distasteful an activity as he could possibly imagine, because the time and money spent to fix this must have been considerable, because the man she once called soulless has just done the most generous thing anyone has ever done for her and her family. And why?

Maybe, says that little part of her that still flutters when someone says his name, he did it for you.

But that idea doesn't hold up to a moment's scrutiny. If he'd done it for her, surely he'd have told her as much. What is the point in sweeping a girl off her feet if the girl doesn't know she's being swept? Surely he (or Gigi or Fitz) would have said something to her, instead of maintaining the absolute radio silence that's been coming from San Francisco for the last month. And anyway, she can't forget the cold way he told her goodbye back in January. She can't forget that moment where she called his name, pleading and grateful and broken and regretful, and she'd been sure that he could read in her face that she was sorry things were ending that way and that they weren't going to go to the theater together, but instead of seeming sad or concerned or even acknowledging that this was the end, he'd rushed out of the room without even a goodbye, as though he couldn't end the encounter fast enough. Surely those were not the actions of a man still in love.

So maybe his actions had nothing to do with her. Maybe they had everything to do with George Wickham, and going after him was just a way for Darcy to make sure his friend-turned-rival finally got the comeuppance he so thoroughly deserves. Maybe it was a way to get Gigi some closure. Maybe he blames himself for not stopping George earlier, somehow, and this was his way of trying to set it right. That makes sense, or at least she knows that to responsible, self-sacrificing, have-to-take-care-of-everything William Darcy it would make sense.

The point is, she's not going to call Darcy.

With a flick of her thumb, her contact list goes scrolling by until she stops on Gigi Darcy. Not as stalwart and capable a name as Will, but she'll know the details of whatever has just happened—after all, this involves George Wickham. (Unless Darcy kept her out of it, to keep her safe, but she can't imagine Gigi allowing herself to be kept out of anything.) But she can't bring herself to dial this number either. Gigi hasn't kept in contact any better than Will has, and she's not saying she blames the girl but she is saying that the memory of their close bond has dimmed as the weeks have passed, and she's not quite confident barging into Gigi's life and demanding Darcy family secrets. Not to mention that if she calls Gigi asking for information about Darcy, it could likely just start her back up with her enthusiastic matchmaking attempts, and Lizzie can't deal with that right now—she doesn't want to be forced back into Darcy's life when he so clearly doesn't want contact with her.

It's a short scroll from there to Fitz Williams but she hardly looks at that name for a moment before deciding against it. Since he's not a Bennet or a Darcy she's not sure how much he knows about the sex tape, and if he doesn't know about it she doesn't want to tell him about it. (She knows that it's a ridiculous attempt at damage control, that not spreading the story of the scandal to one solitary person when she's already told two hundred thousand of her viewers is a bit like using a paper towel to dry up the sea, but it's how she feels and that's the way it is.) And anyway, he was plotting with Gigi every step of the way and he'll get just as excited about her asking about Darcy as Gigi would. So she's not calling Fitz.

She briefly glances at Twitter next, but that tells her nothing; Fitz talks about a trip to Fiji and Gigi is chatting with her followers and Darcy hasn't tweeted since she thanked him for the day out in San Francisco. No, if she wants to know anything, she's going to have to contact one of them.

So she picks up her phone, then hesitates, and then puts it back down.

Someday, she tells herself. But not now. Not when her feelings—about Lydia, about the scandal, about Darcy—are so raw. For now she'll just be content with the knowledge that William Darcy—William Darcy—has saved the day.

. . . . . .

Normal life returns to the Bennet household. Mr. Bennet holes himself up in his study with his books. Mrs. Bennet plays bridge with her friends and asks Jane prying questions about Bing. Jane moves slowly with Bing but she's smiling more these days. Lydia registers for summer classes at her community college and visits Mary to study in preparation for her return to school.

And Lizzie sits at home and pretends that life is back to normal for her, too. She works on her write-up on Pemberley Digital and every time she writes William Darcy, CEO's name she is seized with a strange mix of admiration and gratitude and sorrow and embarrassment. And once those feelings have receded she goes over Dr. Gardiner's story again, looking for some clue that will help her make sense of the man who once accused her of willfully misunderstanding him. But the missing puzzle piece that would help her fit it all together never appears, and she sighs and goes back to typing. She's pretty sure that if she keeps getting so distracted she's never going to finish this paper.

. . . . . .

The next bombshell: Jane is moving to New York City.

Somehow this move surprises and pains Lizzie much less than Los Angeles, despite being across the entire country. She thinks to herself that it's been good (well, not good, because poor Lydia)—maybe more like it's been very educational, all the moving about of the last few months, because the whole family takes her imminent departure for the east coast much better than they would have six months ago.

Of course it hurts Lizzie's heart to think of Jane so far away, but if there's anything she's learned in the last few months, it's that she can't tell other people how to live their lives. And besides, once Jane has an apartment, Lizzie has a place to crash if she ever visits New York.

. . . . . .

"How could she do this to me?" Mrs. Bennet demands. "Now, when Bing is finally back in her life?"

Lizzie rolls her eyes, but to her surprise it's Lydia who speaks up. "I know you're sad, Mom," she says. "But Jane isn't doing this to you, she's doing it for her. She's moving towards something instead of just reacting to what life throws at her. This is good. It's what she needs in her life right now. You should be happy for her."

And Lizzie stares at her sister, at this unexpected little sage, and Lydia shrugs and smiles.

. . . . . .

reconcile: verb, to bring into harmony or agreement, to reestablish a close relationship

. . . . . .

Lizzie doesn't know when a wait has ever pained her so much, but she waits to watch the footage of Bing and Jane's confrontation in the den until Jane has had a chance to tell her everything herself. It's four hours until Bing finally leaves, and by that time Lizzie is just about sick with the anticipation.

But finally, the three Bennet sisters are gathered on the sofa, and Jane begins. "We . . . Bing and I . . ." She hesitates, plucking at the throw over her lap, and Lizzie's eyes widen in anticipation. "He's coming to New York with me."

Two simultaneous cries of disbelief pour out of the two younger Bennets, and Jane explains everything: how he quit med school ("That explains so much," says Lizzie) and he's going to do charity work in New York and they're going to take things really slow ("The kind of slow where you kiss him goodbye?" asks Lydia skeptically, "Because I definitely saw you two just now"), but she's working on forgiving him.

Lizzie sits back on the couch, examining her sister's face, then says, "You seem really happy."

Jane hesitates, then smiles. "I am. Things are . . . complicated. But I finally realized, I've spent the last six months figuring out who I am, and apparently he has too. And if I'm allowed to change and forgive myself for mistakes I've made, I figured I should probably extend him the same courtesy."

"You're so wise," says Lizzie, and it's partially teasing but partially genuine wonder at the strong woman her sister is becoming. She herself could certainly do with learning to be a bit more forgiving.

Jane smiles and puts a hand on each sister's knee. "Now I just need to see you two happy."

"Good luck with that," says Lizzie. "Lydia's sworn off boys for the moment and I, you may recall, am perpetually single."

Jane cocks her head to one side, and Lizzie, suddenly panicky, can hear her words before she says them. "What happened with you and Darcy?" Jane asks softly.

"Nothing," says Lizzie, and she thinks she's done a very good job of sounding unconcerned.

But this is Jane, who knows her better than anyone (even Charlotte, but don't tell her that), and she doesn't believe Lizzie for a moment. But Lizzie shrugs off the continued questioning. "Everything's a mess" is all she'll say.

But later that night, when Lydia has gone to bed and Lizzie and Jane are brushing their teeth together in the bathroom, Lizzie gives in. She's tired and she's sad and she's been carrying the weight of her feelings alone for a long time, and Jane's kind eyes loosen her stubborn tongue.

"I was going to say yes," she admits. "To the theater. In that moment between him asking and my hearing about Lydia, I had already decided what dress I was going to wear. I was . . . reminding myself to put breath mints in my purse." She looks away, embarrassed, and Jane pulls the toothbrush out of her mouth and wraps her arms around her little sister.

. . . . . .

Jane and Bing leave the next day. They're both driving their cars, so as to have them in New York, but they're caravaning all the way there—for safety, Jane insists.

The Bennets stand on the driveway and wave her goodbye. After her stalwart little hatchback pulls out of the driveway, Bing's sleek sports car pulls away from the curb to follow, and the Bennets wave at him too. "Mark my words," says Mrs. Bennet, "the next time we see that boy he will be my future son-in-law." Apparently the fact that he's no longer going to be a doctor has not curbed Mrs. Bennet's enthusiasm for him in the least.

Lizzie just laughs and shakes her head, but apparently the conversation lingers with some people in the family because later that day, Lydia joins Lizzie at the kitchen table. "Is Jane going to marry him?"

"Lydia," Lizzie laughs, "I don't think they're even officially dating yet. It's a little early to be asking about that." She pauses. "But yeah, she's totally going to marry him. I think that the fact that the two nicest people in the world found each other can't just be coincidence; they've got to be written in the stars somehow."

Lydia pats her hand. "Well, then, good thing I'll still have you, perpetually single older sister."

"Someday," said Lizzie, "I'm going to marry the prince of, like, Monaco and then you're going to be really embarrassed."

"Nah, he's like fifty and married. I already checked."

. . . . . .

Jane calls Lizzie from Cedar City, Utah that first night to say she's traveled safely so far. Lizzie asks after Bing, and she can hear the smile in Jane's voice when she answers that he's fine and they've just had dinner together. Then she's silent a long moment. "I've been thinking about what you told me last night," she says. "And I think if I've learned anything from what's happened with Bing, it's that we all deserve second chances. I don't think you should give up on Darcy."

"I haven't," says Lizzie quietly. "But I think he's given up on me."

And after Jane has said goodbye, Lizzie sits quietly on her couch and tells herself no man is worth crying over. She almost believes it.

. . . . . .

AN: Part 2 up soon, I hope.