A/N: So I've been "saving" Lydia's e-mail for this chapter. I hope Mrs. Bennet's hadn't been too scandalous last time. Here goes nothing...

He looks up the exact moment his phone dings. Who cares if his chauffeur is taking the long way from Pemberley to Lambton? At least the device in his hand right now holds some promise of hearing from Lizzie.

From: Lizzie Bennet
To: me
Date: November 20, 2019
Subject: A Quick Reminder

Dearest Mr. Darcy,

I must admit that it is strange how many of my messages start with apologies. Is our relationship this imbalanced? Lizzie really needs to take better care. Being codependent, it seems, has been her wish since childhood. Mrs. Bennet - Mom, that is - must have had too much control over her. Is it strange to speak of the family so candidly? I wonder at your answer. Your hope of a sane friendship must have long been buried. The family is horrendous, the friends are dull, and she is flighty when happy and dramatic when sad. Why are you in love with her again? Reminders might be necessary.

Kindest regards,
Elizabeth

The shifting persons, the Elmo talk, and the harshness of it all tip him off for the first time that he may not have been hearing from Lizzie all this time. Inside his Rolls Royce, his hand grips the smartphone just a little tighter, his jaw sets just a little stronger.

If this isn't her - who is it?

The unpleasant memory of a past stalker or two haunt him. He shivers and shakes it off.

William: Lizzie, are you awake?

He waits for her reply - but it doesn't come, not for the next two hours.

The road to Lambton has never felt this long before.

The next e-mail takes him completely by surprise.

From: Lizzie Bennet
To: me
Date: November 30, 2019
Subject: Whazzup?

Hellllloooooooo!

So, yeah, here's the thing...you've been IGNORING ME! What the hell of a boyfriend are you? I don't care how you get your sorry ass over here as soon as you can cuz were bumpin' uglies the moment you do. Mom keeps saying its my fault but I know it isn't. Okay? OKAY?! You're hot, like really hot. My Harry Potter broomstick doesn't do half the job you do. So COME TO MOMMA, BABY!

-LIZZZZZZZ

Despite the fact that this is the first e-mail to get his name for her remotely right, Darcy still feels the need to scrub his eyes clean after reading the e-mail - and again after reading it the second time.

He wants to analyze the progression now, wants to know who exactly has been hacking Lizzie. He has to warn her, and he has to figure out who exactly thinks they've been sending him love letters.

"Sir, is it this one?"

Darcy looks up from his phone, sees the object of his entire visit, and smiles.

He doesn't see the next one until he's stepped off the plane, texted Lizzie of his arrival, and checked in to the airport hotel.

From: Lizzie Bennet
To: me
Date: December 5, 2019
Subject: A Point to Make

Dear Mr. Darcy,

No matter what words my superfluous sisters and past self may have chosen to lavish upon you, take heart that this e-mail is entirely business. My father may rest assured. You see, Mr. Darcy, our correspondence has been of a nature that raises concerns regarding my future. Is this a friendship or a relationship? Do you have any designs upon my person? I fear I must make a point to know.

My father, dear sir, also wishes to know - and would like to request for your audience at the first available moment.

Sincerely,
Elizabeth Bennet

This time, his tired limbs relaxing against the linen sheets, Darcy just smiles.

"Are you kidding me!" She screams like a warrior on the front lines.

She grips her laptop, eyes wider and hands shakier by the second. The loud echoes of slamming doors could either mean a horde of sisters coming her way or, almost quite plausibly, locking themselves away from harm.

"Is this - Jane, did you do this? Kitty - Lydia! Mom and Dad and - Charlotte, did you - " Lizzie hates how her eyes are watering. She hates what the words on the screen are telling her. Seven - seven incriminating e-mails glare back at her, taunting and condemning.

Why didn't she make her laptop go to sleep? Why didn't she ever reset her password? Why didn't she -

"Lizzie, I tried to stop them!" Jane looks ready to cry herself.

Lizzie sniffs until she's stoically frowning.

"Lizzie, I know it was wrong," Jane pleads on, "but we really did just want to help! You looked so heartbroken when he left, and we didn't want you to - "

"Be embarrassed?" Lizzie bites. Tonight, favorite sisters didn't exist.

"Lizzie, please. You know we wouldn't hurt you on purpose!"

"It was entirely a scientific experiment, I assure you." Charlotte appears at the doorway, actually having the guts to smirk. "It started out desperate but ended up fun."

"Et tu, Char?"

Charlotte shrugs. "Since he doesn't reply, I figured there wasn't any harm."

The crashing realization that he has been receiving these e-mails and has been intentionally avoiding a reply makes fresh tears assault her eyes.

"Jane, Charlotte, what will I do!" Lizzie rolls back on her bed. Even her ceiling looks depressing.

It's depressing enough that they all still live at home.

It's utterly depressing, more so now, that the one man who has ever made her feel fully at home is probably scared away to England now - permanently.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie." Jane looks like she's really about to cry. "We really meant well, and we - "

"I know." Lizzie bites her lip. Anguish is not a pretty feeling. "I know, Jane."

Whoever has been ringing the doorbell is one persistent man.

There's no one else home though - so Lizzie's got it, begrudgingly got it.

About halfway to the front door, she and her pajamas are tempted to holler 'It's always open' just to shut the stranger up.

"I'm coming!" She cries when the onslaught doesn't stop.

It's not that the pressing is constant - it's just, well, rhythmic, and still very persistent.

A steady knock starts when the ringing stop.

Lizzie groans, shoves her hands against her ears, and trudges on.

It's been days since she sent her e-mail - since she's poured out her heart onto words on the screen. He hasn't replied, not once. With the state of her phone battery right now, she doesn't even know if he's texted.

What kind of boyfriend lets her embarrass herself like that? What kind of man would not know he obviously wasn't talking with the woman he loved?

Tears sting her eyes again at the recollection of how he told her he loved her, three days before he left for England.

It was supposed to be a short trip. It wasn't meant to mean anything. It was a necessary parting - so he could make plans to move permanently here - with her. It was a bittersweet thing, a hopeful thing.

Now, things are just plain bitter.

The last knock sends her straight up the heights of her temper.

She throws the door open with all the force her famished right hand can muster. "I said I was come - "

"Liz."

She looks up. Her mouth drops.

She's imagined this, of course. Who hasn't?

Ever since she's sent her cursed last e-mail, she's hoped and prayed and cried that he'll show up like this - all handsome and sweet, maybe with a dozen roses in his hand. Standing where she is now, frozen at the door, she can almost smell the roses in the back of her mind - real or not.

"Liz?"

"Dar - William, hi." She shakes her head a bit. "I - I thought you - were gone."

"Sorry for the radio silence." She's surprised when he apologizes first. He looks almost boyish when he scratches the back of his neck. "Despite being so good in England, my phone crashed the day after I arrived. I tried to call through other means, but I've been - negligent, I know."

She nods mutely. The moment feels unreal.

"I know this must be - sudden, especially after we haven't talked for so long." He's starting to look sheepish, almost nervous. "I've finally gotten it from the family vault in England though, and I - I really don't want to wait anymore, Lizzie."

"Uh huh."

"Liz?"

She doesn't see anything, doesn't hear anything - until he nudges her to look at his hands.

To her surprise disappointment, he isn't holding two dozen roses.

He's holding, instead - a single, sparkling, life-altering ring.

"William, I - "

"Will you marry me?"

She meets his eye shakily, painfully, happily.

She smiles. He smiles back. He looks almost excruciatingly handsome in his coat and shirt.

"Liz - "

"I didn't write those e-mails, okay?" For some reason, she wants to clarify.

He chuckles, handsome as ever. "Okay."

"I missed you, but I wouldn't beg like that."

"I know."

"You know."

"Yes."

They look at each other - long, hard, and tender.

She smiles - brightly now. "Then yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I will marry you. There really isn't any - "

His kisses block out any other words she might have wanted to say.

She even forgets she's wearing pajamas until five hours later, when he tries to take them off.

A/N: Did we really need the e-mails to make the story work? I'm guessing no? Did the e-mails haunt me day and night until I gave up and wrote them down? Yes. So thank you all so much for letting me work out my weird brain here so I can free it to move on other more serious works! I hope you guys at least got a laugh or two out of this story. Much love -Iris