I can hardly believe it, but sitting across from me at the nicest Italian restaurant in town are Jane and Bing, together again. They are as incredibly in love as they were before Bing unceremoniously left, without so much as a goodbye, for Harvard Medical School at the end of the summer. That little twist of "fate" of course being the direct result of the man sitting next to me: William Darcy. But when I dare a glance in his direction, our eyes meet and he surprises me with a smile, as well as a head nudge in the lovebirds' direction. It doesn't make any sense. He should hate me as much as I hated him. Unlike him, I would deserve it.

Of course, William Darcy is no saint. He did, after all, cause my sister terrible and unnecessary heartache. My initial impression of him was also not without some merit. He judged my worth upon our first encounter without even knowing me. He believed that he knew best when it came to his best friend's life. But then, on both counts, I did the same.

And then there was that traumatic fight we had when I was visiting Charlotte. He insulted my family, though perhaps not entirely without foundation. He had the gall to expect me to say yes to the ridiculous idea of being his girlfriend. How could he possibly expect me to say yes, given what he'd done to Jane? Given the audacity he had to ask me out while simultaneously offending me? Given the fact that he couldn't possibly know me at all, when he didn't even know I hated him?

But I had insulted him right back. I attacked his character, with my only evidence coming from the Wickham-who-shall-never-again-be-named, which really was only evidence of my completely embarrassing bout of girlish gullibility and my ability to be offensive by hitting a sore spot without even knowing it.

It is incredibly confusing, especially when I consider his behavior following our confrontation-to-end-all-confrontations. Not only did he address all my grievances against him, but it's almost like he has been actively working to rectify them ever since. He was unnervingly kind and good-humored when he caught me touring his company's building—a move, to my mortification, that must have looked like I was treating my rejection of him carelessly. From the satisfaction he is exuding at his moment, I just know that he is responsible for the cute-fest of "Jing" to which I am currently bearing witness.

I'm frowning, I know, into my mostly uneaten food as I try to reconcile the Darcy I thought I knew with the one I've seen recently when Lydia, who has been drinking more wine than everyone who is legal, leans across me to speak to Darcy.

"I never thanked you," she whispers loudly.

"It's not necessary," Darcy replies, in a tone that suggests he wants those to be the last words on the subject.

But, Lydia being Lydia, she will not be denied, and she plows on.

"No, seriously. Thanks for getting rid of Wickham." She takes both of her hands and places them on his shoulders. "Seriously."

She says this with all the solemnity a drunk Lydia can muster.

Knowing her proximity is making Darcy uncomfortable, I manage to extricate her from him while ordering, "Lydia, just eat your pasta." before my brain processes what I've just heard. Lydia whines, "But it's already gone!" but my attention is elsewhere as I pivot in the opposite direction from her, mouth open in shock.

"That was you?" I ask Darcy with reverent incredulity.

He nods curtly in response as red blush crawls up his neck.

I'm just blinking, my mouth still hanging somewhat open, when I realize Jane and Bing are standing up, and Bing is talking to me.

"Hey Lizzie, I think it's too dark to walk back. With all the luggage in my car, I only have room for two more. Do you think you could get a ride back with Darcy?"

I narrow my eyes at what I'm sure was a brief wink from Bing in Darcy's direction but reply, "Sure, no problem."

Darcy and I walk to his car in silence, but when we reach it, he stops first at my side to open the door for me before heading over to the driver's seat. I internally groan because, in my mind, every chivalrous moment of his is just further proof of what a horrible, cruel person I am. He offers me control of the radio, but I tell him the indie CD he has playing is fine.

After a few minutes I blurt out, "I am so sorry."

He turns his head to look at me, shocked. "You don't have to apologize to me."

"Of course I do! I misjudged you, I willingly believed the worst in you, I was too harsh…"

"No, you weren't. You may not have been right about everything, but you were right enough."

"I spent all this time trying to get over my misgivings, to just let myself love you, that I didn't once think that you might not feel the same way. I was thinking about reasons why I shouldn't like you, but I never considered there were reasons you wouldn't like me!"

His eyes meet mine, and I'm startled by their mournful nature. His next words are thick with apology.

"You were right. I was an arrogant, prideful asshole."

Something about William Darcy making himself vulnerable and admitting he is wrong pulls at my heartstrings, and I find myself defending him.

"I shouldn't have been so angry about your concerns. I know my family is a financial crisis waiting to happen, that my mom is crazy and manipulative, and that Lydia needs to work through a lot of issues. I just couldn't stand someone else being so blunt about what I don't like to admit to myself."

"And if you were an arrogant, prideful asshole, you wouldn't have changed your mind and convinced Bing to come back. You wouldn't have completely revamped your attitude."

"I had to," he cuts in. "I had to show you I was listening. I had to change the things about myself that could make someone hate me—"

"I don't," I cut in. "Hate you, that is. How could I hate you after what you did for Lydia?"

At this he smiles a soft, small smile. "Then at least it worked."

"What do you mean?"

He replies with a tone that implies he is saying something obvious. "Well, I did it for you, didn't I?"

I blink twice before responding. "Wait, so you don't hate me?"

At this he lets out a laugh. It's the first time I've ever heard him laugh, and I can't help but notice how different it makes him look. His face is almost…warm.

"I thought I'd told you, Lizzie. I would never dare hate you."

Ours eyes meet again, something that seems to be happening tonight a lot more than I'm comfortable with. His convey mirth mingling with sadness, whereas I'm sure mine are screaming uncertainty. The silence is almost too much when my phone rings. As if a spell has lifted, I fumble with my phone, managing to hit the speakerphone button.

"Hello?"

A brisk and unfortunately familiar voice demands to know, "Is this Miss Elizabeth Bennett?"

Annoyed that of all the people I have to deal with in my emotionally confused state, it's Saint Catherine, I can't help but reply saccharinely, "And what can I do for you, Ms. Catherine, at 11 PM on a Saturday?"

She barks, "Don't play coy. You know exactly why I'm calling."

"Well, no, actually I don't," I reply through clinched teeth, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't yell at me for no reason."

"No reason! The impertinence! I am of course referring to the article in tomorrow's newspaper, that I just learned was running, of you and my nephew being in a relationship."

I balk and glance at Darcy, who seems just as confused as I am.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh please. As if you didn't seduce or bribe someone at the paper to put this obvious lie into the paper."

"Excuse me!" I yell. "Look, I don't care how prominent you are in the entertainment industry and how my career will probably suffer because you clearly hate me, but I don't have to listen when you accuse me of things I didn't do."

"So you admit that the story is false?"

"Well, since you've just declared it to be "an obvious lie," who am I to contradict you?"

"My nephew is way too important in this industry to waste his time and taint his image with someone like you."

"Glad to get that cleared up. No need to worry. This small town nobody isn't dating your precious nephew, OK?"

"Hmph. Good. And do you promise you never will?"

"No I won't. I only promise things to people I respect. Goodbye Ms. Catherine."

I push to end the call with a satisfying amount of force. Coming down from my confrontation-high, I realize that the car has stopped, and that we are parked outside my house. Darcy is looking at me with something akin to awe.

"I guess I just like knocking people off of their pedestals," I joke.

My breath is still quick, my heart still racing, my limbs still slightly shaking in anger. Darcy notices and starts running a hand reassuringly down my arm.

"Are you OK?"

Starting to feel myself relax a little, a let out a tentative, "Yeah."

"That bitch," he declares.

I laugh and smile wide. Then something gives me pause.

"Wait, did you, William Darcy, just make me laugh?" I ask dumbfounded.

He replies in mock indignation, "Hey, I've been known to be funny, from time to time."

I smirk, and tease, "Oh, I believe you."

Then we're both just sitting there, smiling. He's staring at me. Into me, really. Looking back at him, it's clear that he still loves me. And I don't hate him. I find myself wondering if there was more to my refusal of Catherine the Great's demands than my anger at her presumptuousness. I wonder if the Darcy I saw with his sister, and then again today, asked me the same question he had a few months ago, what my answer would be.

I'm saved from answering my own question when Lydia bangs on my car window.

"Lizzie, what's the hold up? Get your ass out of the car—we're going to watch Bridesmaids and Jane was making me wait for you!"

I roll the window down. "Oh shut up, you've seen that movie over five times, you can wait ten minutes."

I give Darcy a loaded "thank you" before getting out of the car and closing the door behind me. I walk a few steps before, on impulse, I turn around and put a hand on the edge of the lowered car window for support as I lean down to his eye level.

"Goodnight, William."