Lizzie leafed through a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, smiling at the notes she had made when she read it in high school. Dog eared pages, highlighted sentences, sloppily written translations of French terminology scrawled along the sides of the text. It was the first book that she ever really claimed for herself. The first page even held a flourishing example of the one calligraphy class she took in middle school- This book belongs to Elizabeth Bennet. It even began to smell like her- each chapter a different chapter in her own life. A phase of marigolds and sweet peas in the spring, to toast crumbs and cinnamon in the late fall- this book held all the nostalgia a book had ever contained for her. And Lizzie went back to it when she needed to be reminded of home. When she needed something that was always there for her, that she could latch on to and be safe from whatever catastrophe was churning around her.

She was seated in a coffee shop, in the perfect time of year- the winter chill began to lose its bite and faded into the washed out scent of grass and honeysuckle. Bees began to reappear, as did short shorts, high pony tails, and annoying teenagers roaming the streets on a usually quiet Tuesday afternoon. Lizzie swore that if she heard one more preppy 14 year old order a "tall no whip skinny vanilla bean frappuccino," she would yank on their little blonde-highlighted pony tails so hard that their entire bodies would concave after it, creating a black hole where an annoying tween once stood.

But the teens weren't nearly as bad as the aging ladies who were no doubt members of the elite 2.5 WPF club. They sat around, lightly sipping on green chai teas, discussing Fifty Shades of Grey. That is porn. They are literally talking about porn. In book form. Erotica. This is a normal occurance now. When the first mention of 'trying some seductive techniques on the street' came up, Lizzie just about gagged on her coffee.

Realizing that she came to the coffee shop for one reason- a place away from her family to read and enjoy a nice beverage- she focused back in on Dorian Gray's astounding beauty. As the words translated into colors and she began to see the book's story unfold once more, something had changed. Dorian Gray, the character renowned for his charm and vivacious youthful beauty, was no longer the freckled and doe eyed teenager she had once imagined. In his place stood a young, mature man, with every spark of passion and brilliance aflame in light blue eyes, with hair dark as soot. His lips were parted ever so slightly, the hint of a forgotten smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wanted to say something, but with his incredibly vocabulary and extensive intelligence, not a single coherent thought came from this new Dorian Gray.

But who was Lizzie kidding, she knew who it was.

Ever since the scandal with Lydia and George had ended, things got quiet again. She had seen him, when Bing came back- and got back together with Jane. In contrast to seeing Jane more heartbroken than ever, now Jane was somehow happier than she had ever been. They had more snickerdoodles than they knew what to do with. Currently, Jane was considering handing them out to strangers. Or orphans. Or both.

But William had been different. For starters, he wasn't Darcy anymore. He was William. Lizzie blushed slightly when she remembered the light in his eyes when she had called him Will. She blushed more when she remembered how she had beamed back when she saw him so elated.

William Darcy was a changed man. He had followed in the footsteps of Scrooge and Lizzie was quite sure that he would know be renowned for how well he keeps Christmas. She hoped that she would see him on Christmas, when he and Gigi visited Jane and Bing. Hopefully he would permit interaction between them. Lizzie wouldn't blame him if he wanted nothing to do with her, though. They had barely spoken when Bing came over to make up with Jane.

After the company had gone home (Jane included), Lizzie decided to go on a walk, to clear her head.

Her phone had buzzed, and she was astonished to find a very strange text from Lydia.

"Thanks Darcy. I was sort of a bitch to you before, but I don't know where I'd be without your help. I wish I could repay you somehow for all you've done for me and my family. Thank you."

"Darcy did this…?" Lizzie had whispered in the dark. She scoffed a little. Of course he did. Lydia must have chosen the wrong contact to send it to.

"PS: Talk to Lizzie."

Her eyes widened a bit, then she quickly responded to her sister.

"You are. And William did all this? We have to repay him somehow."

"Shit- you weren't supposed to know. Say nothing. Do nothing- he made me promise not to tell you."

"But why did he do that?" She mused out loud.

"It's late, get some rest."

She paused for a moment, then smiled and sent another text.

"I love you. Sleep well."

"Love you too big sis "

Lizzie stared at her phone now, having given up reading about Darcy-Dorian Gray. Her phone began to vibrate and ring, practically scaring her out of her chair. The Downton Abbey theme song rang through the coffee shop, and when she received a couple sour looks from gum-smacking kids the urge to pull pony tails returned once more.

"Caroline?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes! Hello Lizzie! I really need to talk to you. Like, really." Her voice sounded fake, but sharp all the same. One of her superior qualities, it seemed.

"Um, sure. Is everything okay?" Lizzie gripped her book and coffee and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, heading outside so she didn't bother those who were engrossed in their conversations about erotica.

"Everything should be fine, yes. I just need to know something." There was a breath of silence, before Caroline blurted into the phone.

"Are you engaged to William Darcy?"

Lizzie's eye's grew wide and she leaned her left shoulder against the outside wall. What?

"E-excuse me?"

"Are you engaged to Darcy? Did he ever ask you to marry him? Are you going to marry him? Because you cannot. I am sure you wouldn't, of course- it's just that you see, he's very interested in business, as I'm sure you understand completely. But that means that his relationships are less about feelings and more about advantageous solutions. So really, let's be brutally honest- we both know-"

"Look, Caroline, you said there was no way I would be engaged to William. Why did you even call me?"

"'Well I know that, I just wanted to double check."

"You don't seem very sure of yourself here. If you knew, why did you call? You didn't need to double check anything, Caroline."

"Lizzie, let's be civil about this, you're acting like a child…"

"Oh, I'm acting like the child now! Says the one who is calling to make sure I don't have my poverty stricken hands all over Will!"

Caroline drew in a sharp breath when she heard Lizzie call Darcy Will. Lizzie huffed out a breath of her own, thinking over what she had just said. A slight rosy blush began to pigment her cheeks.

"Are you engaged or not?" Came the curt reply.

"No. No, I am not currently engaged to William Darcy." Lizzie sounded tired, almost sad. Caroline didn't pick up on it. She only muttered a quick 'Good, then' and then a 'ciao' before the line went dead.

Sighing, Lizzie closed her eyes and slid down the wall, sitting on the cold ground. She didn't really mind. The coffee had begun to grow cold. Besides, her stomach was churning.

Caroline and William obviously were set to be married. What if she never saw him again? The full force of this idea hit her, and a hole in her heart began to tear and grow. She would miss him. She would miss him with all her heart, and then some. And she knew she'd never get the chance to tell him.

At least now she understood his pain- or at least, a fragment of it. Lizzie figured that his profession of love was a fleeting thing, a mild case of lusty behavior combined with the fact that he's male, single, and everyone gets lonely. Every Darcy-bots. But now- oh god, what did she feel? Now that she loved him? Was it truly love?

Her eyes began to water and Lizzie let out a short, dark laugh. This was ridiculous. Lydia cried over silly broken hearts and lost loves. Lizzie cried over Dumbledore's death and Colin Firth's beautiful face.

Standing, Lizzie placed her book on the outdoor table and searched for a trashcan. She saw none and headed back inside, skirting around a group of Hipsters in their natural habitat, guzzling lattes and reblogging pictures of cats with glasses on Tumblr. She put her garbage away, and paused on her way out to admire the new mugs they were selling- one had a light red heart on it, with a yellow background. Lizzie let a quiet 'aww' emerge from her mouth before she shook her head. What was coming over her? She placed a hand against the wall to steady her. She felt a bit dizzy.

When she could see straight, she headed back outside to get her book and walk home. Glancing at the table, she noticed that it was open to the back page, and written on it in clean, black ink was:

La Vénus de l'Adriatique

Sort de l'eau son corps rose et blanc

Devant une façade rose,

Sur le marbre d'un escalier.

A toi

Pour toujours

It was her favorite part of Dorian Gray- the poetry excerpts from Gautier's Emaux et Camées. She had memorized the whole section on Venice, and had once planned extravagant adventures among les dômes, sur l'azur des ondes.

"The Adriatic's Venus- emerges from the water her white and rosy body. In front of a rosy façade, on the marble of stairs. I love you." Lizzie whispered, easily translating the beautiful French words.

"Always." Came the deep-voiced reply from behind her. Turning around, William Darcy stood behind her, hands deep in his pockets, chin drawn so far back into his neck that she feared he might injure himself. He looked down, then glanced up, then back down. A blush spread across his cheeks and reddened his ears.

Lizzie felt her heart beating uncontrollably. She could see every moment they had spent together since they met at that horrible wedding dance flash before her eyes. Every spiteful word, every hurtful imitation- every declined offer and attempt at civility. The early days melded into her pleasant time at Pemberly with Gigi and Darcy- touching him on the shoulder. Him touching her on the shoulder and back, whispering words of comfort when her world threatened to crumble around her- she remembered every moment as if it was yesterday. But it still seemed like years ago when she caught the bouquet and he caught the garter.

His eyes were so beautiful. Much better than any Dorian Gray's, she decided. Finally it seemed like her troubled mind had found something new to latch on to. Something new to love.

"Lizzie, um, if you want me to leave- or forget about this, I can go- I can just, forget it all… somehow, just tell me- how do you… feel?" He choked out, barely holding eye contact for more than a few moments.

Lizzie took a brave step forward.

"William Darcy," She began. He already looked hurt, as if he was accepting his rejection already.

"You make me dizzy." She whispered. He quickly glanced up, and their eyes met. Clear blue summer skies over the rolling sea. Lizzie stood right in front of him and reached up, on the tips of her toes. Her hands slowly grasped his lapels and she smiled. And he smiled back, a small smile, but a smile none the less. And she pulled him close. And they kissed.

And his large hands wrapped around her slim figure, lifting her off of her feet, causing her to giggle. And the teenagers scoffed and walked on by, pretending that love meant nothing to them. The inappropriate book club rolled their eyes at such typical young love, about how it lacked the fires of passion and danger. But no matter what excuse they used, no one could tear their eyes away from the beauty of love that seemed to appear everywhere. And they smiled, too.

How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and decoration! Even to read of the luxury of the dead was wonderful.

Summer followed summer, and the yellow jonquils bloomed and died many times, and nights of horror repeated the story of their shame…

But they were unchanged. No winter marred their love or stained their flower-like bloom.

Life has always poppies in her hands.

Translations:

The Adriatic's Venus: The city of Venice

les dômes, sur l'azur des ondes: The domes, on the azur water [the domed roofs of churches, seen over the blue waters]

Above in bold are quotes from Dorian Gray, which I own no rights to. The third line (But they were unchanged) is adapted from the original text by me to fit the scene. I do not own Fifty Shades of Grey, or Pride and Prejudice in any way.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like more Lizzie Bennet Diaries works, please tell me. I'd love to know if anyone would like me to write more, and what you would like me to write about (I'm thinking a Gigi storyline). This is all mushy in accordance with Valentine's Day. thank you so much ConstanceBoniful for the help with the french, it was much appreciated!

Read and Review, please! Thank you again. Happy Husband Hunting! 3