Despite his hectic search of George Wickham, William Darcy has made sure to watch Lizzie Bennet's videos every Monday and Thursday morning since they parted at Pemberley. Naturally an early riser, Darcy's days usually start around seven in the morning; after checking his emails and any online progress towards preventing the scandalous release, Darcy takes care to leave whatever hotel room he stayed at the night before by nine to meet with a contact or visit a location where he believes Wickham to be hiding.

The past few Mondays and Thursdays, however, Darcy has strayed from his set timetable. Instead of being on the road or talking with Fitz, on those mornings Darcy made a stop at a local coffee shop, ordered a beverage out of courtesy rather than want and pleasure, and settled at a table to watch that day's video blog.

This Monday proved no different than the last. After reading all emails, making a few work-related calls required of him during his absence, scrolling through Wickham's twitter for any recent activity, and checking the countdown on the horrid website, Darcy left the hotel and walked to a nearby café. After pulling up her YouTube channel, Darcy took a deep breath and started the eight minute clip.

What he saw, the two shattered sisters embracing, one questioning her past and placing all blame upon her small, unsteady shoulders, the other simply trying to envelope the former in love and comfort, deeply saddened the seemingly composed man. For the first time he felt for the younger Bennet sister, seeing in her the same despair and hopelessness he once saw in his very own sister.

Moreover, his fragile, guarded, silent, and hidden heart ached for the woman who held it in her very hands. Darcy could not truly find pleasure in noticing her change, could not manage to feel hopeful and reassured and happy as Lizzie had come to the realization that she, the woman striving for an advance degree in communication, had been mistakingly communicating or not communicating all these months. Rather, Darcy could only focus on her own unjustified pain, on the way she had been left in the aftermath of Wickham's wake like so many before her.

As her heart expressed sorrow, unexpectedly so did his.

So, regardless of his previous effort to give her space, he sent her a direct Twitter message, made a promise. Simple, unassuming, but hopefully reassuring, he wrote, Time will bring justice and heal all wounds.