Bernie Su said once that they did not originally plan for Lizzie to tell Darcy about her videos during ep. 60. Previously, in "A Different Date," I explored what might have happened if she told him about her videos at Pemberley, when he asked her to the theater. This story explores another possibility: what if Darcy found out from someone else?

In this story, Wickham and Lydia don't date. Maybe it doesn't occur to him to make and sell a tape with her, so he doesn't seek her out in the first place. Maybe Jane doesn't disappear from Lydia's life for a month, or Mary doesn't date Eddie, so Lydia isn't as lonely and vulnerable. Imagine whatever you like.

Whatever the reason, Wickham is not occupied with Lydia. He caught up on Lizzie's videos after running into her just before Lydia's birthday, so he can see she hasn't told Darcy about them. And in that, he sees an opportunity to hurt Darcy badly. How could he resist?

(Note: Darcy not knowing about Lizzie's videos changes the contents of some of them, particularly those filmed at Pemberley. The alternate videos for this story are listed at ouhusker7 dot tumblr dot com /post/109747080818

New to the Lizzie Bennet Diaries? Here's a complete playlist: youtube dot com playlist?list=PL_ePOdU-b3xcDyyzeR5NjxeLEElsqYzn1).

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Prologue

Lizzie's videos lately were both sickening and hilarious to him. Sickening because she mooned over Darcy now like he'd always mooned over her. In her last video, sparks had flown while they discussed international communications rights, for pete's sake. Still, the more hopeful Darcy became, the more hilarious it was, because he was still clueless about her videos.

George fantasized sometimes about being the one to tell him.

"I need to speak with you," he'd say after somehow cornering him. "The last few months have been crazy. I've been hiding something from you that I shouldn't have and that I can't any more. I need to admit something to you." It wouldn't take Darcy long to realize what he was quoting. Once he had him reeling, he could take his time revealing how Lizzie had exploited his rejection to make herself famous. And that would be the end of anything between Darcy and Lizzie. He could never forgive her—as he'd pompously informed George more than once, he "abhorred disguise of any sort." Shock, humiliation, betrayal, grief—he would see it all in Darcy's face.

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Chapter one: Not quite real

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Darcy paused in the hallway outside Lizzie's office and fought a surge of dread. All efforts to calm himself, both back in his office and while walking through the building, had been for naught. He was shaken to the depths—literally shaking, he realized as he clenched his hands together. He needed to talk to Lizzie, to confront her, to ask her…he raised his hand and knocked.

"Good afternoon, Lizzie," he said quietly when she bade him enter.

"Good afternoon to you!" She favored him with a welcoming smile that, if he had come to ask a different question, would have sent his heart soaring. Now he had to look away to keep his composure.

He sat on the stool beside her and looked at that ever-present red light. "You're filming again."

"Uh, yeah. Should I—."

"You're quite prolific."

Her eyes flew wide open as she searched his face. Interminable seconds ticked by, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the question.

"You know about my videos," she finally said, faintly.

Darcy looked away from her, blinking, his face growing pale. Some part of him had clung to the idea that maybe there was an explanation, that maybe, despite the evidence of his own eyes, Wickham had orchestrated everything and she was innocent. Now that last shred of hope disintegrated. She was guilty.

"I was told about them just now," he said quietly.

Lizzie looked away as well. "I, um…I should have told you myself. I knew you might find out someday, but every time I tried to think how to tell you, I just…chickened out, I guess." She inhaled unsteadily and faced him. "I am so sorry, Darcy."

Sorry was well and good, but it did nothing for the questions and doubts rioting through him. "Every friend of mine that you know is in your playlist. Bing, Caroline, Fitz—you showed all of us without our consent?"

"N-no. Well, Bing didn't know. He thought they were letters to Charlotte. But I had permission from Caroline and Fitz."

Letters to Charlotte? Another time, he would have puzzled over that, but now her last sentence drew all his attention.

"They've known, for months?" Darcy's voice shook a little as he considered the implications of her words. "Is…is this some kind of colossal joke?" He could not believe that Fitz, who had been his confidant after his parents' deaths and again after Wickham hurt Gigi, would do something like this. But neither could he believe that Lizzie would lie about something that could be so easily checked.

"No! I mean…yes, Caroline knew ever since we stayed at Netherfield. And Fitz asked to be in my videos, but he didn't know about them. He—." She must have seen his skeptical look, for she stopped abruptly and rubbed her forehead. "It's kind of complicated, I guess. W-which ones did you watch?"

"They are your diaries," he said stiffly. "I could not watch them without your permission. I watched part of one video only, the first with myself in the thumbnail. I could not believe that you…". He swallowed hard. "That is, I did not want to accuse you falsely."

"Oh." Her face flushed a deep red.

He waited for her to say more, to explain or defend herself, but she just sat there as if frozen, looking remorseful and wary.

"That video showed me bringing my letter. The previous one, called 'Are You Kidding Me!', with over three hundred thousand views…". His eyes flicked to her camera, and he set his jaw. "That is the one that shows…everything?"

"Yes." Her voice caught, and her hand reached toward him, then withdrew. "I can't tell you how much I regret posting that video, and the things I—."

Then something within him snapped. "Do you know how I was informed about your videos, Lizzie? George Wickham walked into my office and quoted my own words to me!"

"Oh my G-!" she gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

Darcy couldn't bear looking into her wide, horrified eyes. He turned his face away, his fists clenched tight as he tried desperately to regain his control. It was no use. He whirled back to her, his voice harsh and hoarse. "Why would you do this?"

"I don't…um…". She looked down, her eyes squeezing shut.

"Did you hope something like this would happen? Did you hate me that much?"

"No! I didn't think it would hurt you!"

"You didn't think this would hurt me?" he shot back, insulted and disbelieving. "What am I, some kind of emotionless monster?"

"No! That's not—no! It's just…I'd been posting videos for months, and you never found them. I guess I thought you never would." She made a small, helpless gesture. "It was stupid, I know."

She seemed in earnest, her explanation plausible. But the motive Wickham had suggested was even worse. How could he bear it if she admitted that…"Did you hope that posting a dramatic rejection scene would increase your viewership? Particularly because I am known in your field?"

"Oh G-, no!" she cried, her hand clutching at his arm. "I didn't, Darcy, I swear I didn't!"

"Then why?" Anger and pain burned within him, and he nearly shouted the words at her.

Lizzie flinched, sending a corresponding shudder through his own body. He rose abruptly and strode away from her, thrusting shaking fingers through his hair. That flinch from her cut through the tumult within him as nothing else could have. He turned back a minute later, only to see her turn quickly away from him, her face crumpled and messy and miserable.

Darcy's shoulders slumped, and he walked back to her, pressing his handkerchief to her hand. "I'm sorry. I should not have raised my voice. Don't cry, Lizzie, please."

She took the handkerchief, her tears falling faster. Unable to offer her further comfort, he began to pace behind her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his air gloomy. Was this the end for him, for whatever chance there might have been for them? How could it not be, when she had so thoroughly betrayed his trust? She would not even try to explain why she had done it—but then again, could he believe her now even if she did attempt an explanation?

Pain ripped through him anew as he listened to himself. What greater torture was there than to have these thoughts about her?

Movement behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see Lizzie hastily packing away her camera. He watched, uncomprehending, until she went on to shove some books into a bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing," she said, her chin wobbling dangerously, her eyes fixed on her task. "You must want me out of your sight."

No. The word hammered through him, its force making it the most definite thing in his mind at that moment. For all the uncertainties that racked him, this he knew beyond all doubt. He did not want her to leave. Not like this.

"I am not asking you to leave."

Her hands stilled, and she looked up at him. "You're…not?"

There was a pause before he replied. "You have not yet finished your independent study, and I do not wish to hinder the completion of your degree." Then his voice acquired a bite again. "Assuming that is, in fact, why you are here?"

"It is, yes."

He studied her for a long moment before nodding curtly. "If that is the case, then you may stay, if you wish."

Silence fell between them. Lizzie stood clutching her bag, uncharacteristically subdued, her gaze liquid still and laden with questions. Darcy felt defenseless somehow under that gaze, as if all his turmoil and grief were stripped bare before her. He had to get away.

"Whichever you choose, I…I wish you every success." He headed for the door but paused when she spoke.

"I, um…I'll stay. Thank you."

He nodded again, gave her one serious, parting look, and escaped.

What just happened? Darcy wore a path to and fro across his office, his breaths quick and rasping as he tried to come to grips with his new reality.

Lizzie had a vlog. A phenomenally successful vlog. A vlog of which he had been ignorant. A vlog that covered the length of their acquaintance, that showcased the most disgraceful and thoroughly regretted minutes of his life.

A vlog whose viewers included his worst enemy. The events of the last hour flashed relentlessly through his mind. Wickham sauntering in, brash and insolent. The paralyzing numbness when Wickham quoted those hated, intensely private words. The churning in his stomach when he assumed Wickham had somehow obtained the footage without Lizzie's knowledge and would now attempt to blackmail him, only to find that it was so much worse than that. Wickham's unholy smirk as he disclaimed all responsibility and laid the blame squarely at Lizzie's feet. The pain that consumed him when a simple internet search, and then her own words, confirmed the whole.

Lizzie had broadcast his humiliation and heartbreak for the world to see and then lied to him to ensure his ignorance. The truth was more than he could bear. Yet he had to bear it, had to accept that Lizzie…that she was…

A knock sounded at his door. Darcy raised his head, bewildered and disoriented, unsure how much time had passed. He was in no shape to see anyone.

"Later, please, or leave a message with Reynolds," he called.

"William?"

His eyes slid shut. Business he could ignore, but not his sister. "Come in, Gigi."

Gigi took one look at him, closed the door behind her, and rushed over. "What's wrong? Sh-she didn't say no, did she?"

He didn't bother asking how she knew he'd been working up the courage to try again with Lizzie. "I did not ask her."

"Then what happened? Did you two fight or something?"

He had told his sister about Lizzie during their annual Christmas ski trip, and since Lizzie's arrival at Pemberley Digital, Gigi had helped his cause as much as she could, welcoming her and volunteering them to give her a tour of the city last Saturday. He had been so pleased to observe the friendship budding between the two women, but now…now the truth would hurt Gigi too.

"Or something," he replied bleakly.

"Well, whatever it is, you can work it out with her, right?"

"I don't know." He nearly choked, admitting even that much aloud.

"Of course you can! She likes you now, you know."

Darcy stiffened and looked down.

"C'mon, I know she does! She asked me a ton of questions about you at lunch the other day!"

And was she filming it? He grimaced and turned away from her, hating the suspicion and bitterness that now darkened his thoughts. "I can't talk about this right now."

"But—!"

"Not now," he said firmly.

"Please, William!" she cried, her voice pinched. "Tell me what's wrong, and let me help, if I can. I can't stand to see you hurt like this!"

He shook his head. "I am grateful for your concern, but…". He sighed, unable to resist the pleading in her eyes. "Perhaps at a later date."

"Okay," she said finally, giving him a short but fierce hug, "but I am not giving up on this. I'll send Fitz over here if I have to!"

His mouth twisted as she turned to leave. He had no doubt she would follow through on that threat. "Oh, Gigi? Have you seen…um, anyone today?"

Her eyebrows rose at the cryptic question. "Just the people I usually see when I'm here. Why?"

"Good." At least Wickham hadn't bothered her. "I will talk to you later. Please tell Reynolds that I do not wish to be disturbed for the rest of the day."

Darcy locked the door behind her and then walked to his desk. On his computer screen was the playlist of Lizzie's videos, just as he'd left it. Beside the keyboard was a paper on which he'd jotted information on a few upcoming theater performances. He had been perusing theater schedules intermittently since yesterday morning, when Lizzie had interviewed him for her report, complimented and flirted with him…given him hope.

Now that hope mocked him. The most recent video in her playlist was "Corporate Interview," with two hundred thousand views in little more than a day. Whatever portion of it she had posted had been enough to bring Wickham to him, eager to hurt him once more. But this time, Wickham had not manipulated or hurt someone Darcy loved but had simply told him the truth.

Darcy crumpled the paper viciously and threw it at the trash can. Then he bent over, covered his face with his hands, and groaned.