Most of the rest of P&P is marriage preparation and lots of letter writing, so I wasn't sure if there were any scenes left that were adaptable. Then I came across Lydia's flippant letter to Elizabeth. I haven't been able to do much with Lydia in this fic because she's so different in the book (though I do genuinely feel sorry for her, two-dimensional as she is - she's only sixteen; everyone does idiotic stuff at that age, and she really does believe Wickham always intended to marry her; okay, ending this rambling parenthetical). Anyway, here is my version of what LBD Lydia might have written. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and following! I'm sad to reach an end, but I assume more ideas for future fics will come along shortly. :)

The day that Lizzie moved to San Francisco and started unpacking her things, she found an envelope. It was in one of several boxes crammed with books, tucked between the pages of her copy of Little Women. For a moment she thought William had somehow slipped it in there, but it was plain paper, devoid of his wonderfully anachronistic wax seal. And that certainly wasn't his handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead putting a little heart above the i in Lizzie.

She opened it.

Dear Lizzie,

My therapist told me I should write down some of my thoughts, but I feel stupid putting them in a diary or something. Like I'm trying to talk to a piece of paper. So I'm writing to you and Jane and some other people.

So, you're going to San Francisco. I know you're worried to move away from me because over the past couple weeks you've reminded me, like twenty times, to come and visit you a lot. Don't worry. I mean, yeah, I kind of wish you could always be around, but that's not fair for you, is it? You didn't make Jane stay when she got the job in New York. And you don't deserve any less than her. You have your own life and all that stuff. I know you're not abandoning me. Now that I've said that, I should give you a fair warning: I'm going to show up on your doorstep a lot. Who else is going to make sure you have fun?

Okay, now I have to talk about Darcy.

I had to stop writing for a while. It's so stupid how hard it is just to write words on a piece of paper. I really hate it when my hands start shaking and there's just no good reason for it. It's better now. Okay.

When you told me you and Darcy had hooked up – well, I already knew it, because I heard the doorbell and I came down and saw him before he went to see you, so I wasn't surprised. But you seemed like you were kind of apologizing to me for it, and that made me angry. Not at you, not really. Anger is confusing and stupid and sometimes it's hard to tell where it's really coming from. I know you think it all comes back to him, but it's not that simple.

Okay, I had to take another break. See, Lizzie, it's like there's two of him. The George I knew, and the George everyone else knew. And maybe the George I knew wasn't real, but he was real to me, and everything I felt was real, and I can't be mad at that because it would be like getting mad at myself. My therapist said that none of my feelings were wrong or something I should feel guilty for, and even though I didn't believe her at first, I'm starting to understand it.

I said all of that so I can explain this. I was angry because you felt like you had to apologize for being with Darcy. And you shouldn't. Just because I went through all that crappy stuff doesn't mean you can't be in a happy relationship. If you were lonely and depressed, it wouldn't make me feel better. Duh. It doesn't work that way, sis. Yeah, okay, I do sometimes feel jealous of you and Jane. Other times, though, I see you with your boyfriends and think, you know, there are still great guys in the world. Not every guy pretends to be something he's not. That's a good thing to know.

But don't you dare try to set me up with some friend of a friend when I come to visit.

Anyway, my hand is totes cramped, so I'm going to stop. You don't have to write a letter back to me. We can call and send texts like normal people. But this was good. I guess my therapist's pretty smart about stuff like this.

Hope your move is going well. Don't spend the whole afternoon unpacking. Go out and do something super crazy and fun with your rich hot boyfriend. Or you can just sit around talking about nerdy things. Whatevs.

Love ya,

Lydia

She was sniffling by the time she folded up the letter, making William look up in alarm. He was sitting just a few feet away, meticulously organizing the contents of her boxes into various categories, but she had nearly forgotten he was there. "What is it?" he asked, getting to his feet.

She shook her head. "It's fine. A note from Lydia." She put the letter back in the book and stood up to join him. "Let's leave this for later."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup." She took his hand, and they started for the door together. "It's the first day of my new life. I want to make some memories."