Lizzie had been dragged downstairs by her mother after they had finished dinner. No one had answered her calls and she had no one to go visit, so she was stuck. But being downstairs was like cruel and unusual punishment. Seeing George touch her sister made the hair on her arms stand up and she just wanted to shake Lydia to show her that George was no good for her or anyone. She was beginning to understand Lydia's point of view on somethings though, it had been wrong for her to present her with that book. Sometimes she forgot that Lydia was the youngest, three years younger than Lizzie and she needed to give her sister growing up time. This, however, was way past the cute rebellious phase.

This wasn't going to end well.

She rolled her eyes as she heard George talk about his swimming accomplishments as she conjured up a picture of Gigi, innocent Gigi, being seduced and used by George Wickham. Lizzie wanted to mention that fact, that accomplishment of his, but her phone which lay in her lap started to vibrate.

"Excuse me," she said softly, standing from where she had been seated on the ottoman in their living room and walking into the kitchen, down the hall. "Darcy," she answered. She wanted to leave, this had been a painful evening and finally she had a means of escaping.

She heard his response, "Lizzie, you called earlier? I had just stepped out."

"Can you come get me? I don't think I can stay here tonight. George is here and it's... it's just all wrong." She hadn't meant to sound desperate, but she felt that way. It was as though no one cared that she had once spent intimate moments with the fraud who was parading himself around as Lydia's lovable, responsible suitor.

"I'll be there in five minutes. I'll call you when I get there."

Leaning against the counter, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She wouldn't have to spend a moment more with George. But now that she had asked and he was coming, the simple mechanics of it all hit her... where was she going to sleep? She hardly had the money to get a room in an inn and she couldn't ask Darcy to pay for it. He had already done enough. Way too much, actually.

Lizzie's thoughts were interrupted by a very unwanted voice. "Lizzie, we should talk," she heard George say, but she refused to make eye contact with him. Instead, she stared at the pictures on their fridge.

"I don't think we should, George," she lowered her voice. "This isn't a good time, I need to go get ready to leave."

"Leaving so soon?" he sounded like he was mocking her. "Running away to go put it on one of your videos? The audience already sees the real me, Lizzie, and they love it. I'm heartfelt and sentimental, saving your little sister from bad dreams while making her feel needed and loved. I'm the true hero of these videos."

Lizzie scoffed, "A hero? You left Gigi Darcy for money. It's practically reverse prostitution."

George shrugged. "Look, Lizzie, you can see that's not the case here. Your family doesn't exactly have the type of cash I'm looking for."

"So you are in it for money. That's my sister out there and your feelings may be faked but Lydia's feelings are real," she said, pointing down the hall where she could hear the murmers of her sister and parents talking.

He started laughing. "Lizzie, come on, peach. You really think that feelings are something I really care about? Especially Lydia's. She's a silly little child."

She was burning mad, her hands making fists next to her legs. "George, just break it off before you do something you're going to regret."

He stepped closer to her, placing his hands by her sides against the counter, he was trapping her. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder. "Can't you see that you've done this all, peach?"

"Get off me," Lizzie pushed her shoulders into his chest but he had more weight behind him and she could barely get him to budge. "I did nothing. I humiliated a good person with a fake story that you made up for sympathy. I was played by you just like William Darcy, like Gigi Darcy and now my sister."

George took a deep breath in, "And you're the only one that got away untouched so far but if there's one thing I know about you is how much you care about your family." He took a step back and put his hands together like he was about to pray. He looked from his hands and then pointed them at him. "It will be both Lydia's downfall and your own when I'm done with her. I've got her hook, line and sinker and with both yours and your sister's disappearing act from Lydia's life... no matter what you tell her, she won't listen. The only one she trusts now is George Wickham," he shrugged. "Oh wait, that's me."

Lizzie's phone started to buzz on the counter and before she could reach for it, it was in the hands of George. "Give it to me," she said, putting out her palm. She could have believed that he was a bad person before but now she knew that he was just evil. There was a sensitivity chip missing in his small brain.

"William... as in Darcy?" he asked, looking at the caller ID. "Oh that's cute. He makes a video for him and how long after that had you changed his number from Darcy to William? Me and Lydia got a kick out of that video by the way," he said as the phone rang.

Lizzie wanted to punch him or kick him or something. She felt helpless in this situation and that was a new, and very unwanted, feeling. "Just give me the phone, George."

"Is this who's picking you up, Lizzie?" he asked before pressing the answer button. "Hello, Lizzie's phone... this is George speaking," he said into the speaker. "Oh, Darcy, how great to speak with you. Lizzie's actually preoccupied right now so if you want to call... oh you're outside? Well, you can just leave. It's fine. I'll take care of this peach for you."

George, as though Darcy could have seen them, swung his arm around Lizzie and squeezed her into him. She couldn't believe that she used to swoon over him. It was the abs, those wonderful, evil muscles. She elbowed him and slipped out of his grasp. He barely even winced at her attempt to somewhat hurt him. He handed the phone back to her, the screen black, and she hoped that Darcy hadn't left, or worse, thought she had changed her mind about George.

In the background, she could hear a faint knock on the door and she finally excused herself from the kitchen while George looked down the hall at Lydia opening the door. He had plastered a smile on his face as Lydia looked down the hall to the two of them and gave her a small wave. "This isn't over, peach," he whispered into Lizzie's ear as he put his hand on her lower back and practically pushed her down the hall.

"I'm here for Lizzie," Darcy said, his voice polite but not exactly warm.

"You can have her," Lydia responded. Lizzie thought her mother was going to kneel over from too much excitement from the fact that two out of three daughters had gentlemen callers over.

"Why, come in, Mr. Darcy," she said, standing up and fanning herself.

Darcy looked at Lizzie who was over eagerly shaking her head, "Uh... we actually have dinner reservations. But maybe another time, Mrs. Bennet."

"I'll be home tomorrow, mom," Lizzie called over her shoulder, grabbing her coat in one hand and his hand in the other as she pulled him to the cab that was waiting.

Darcy looked at her, "I didn't want to call my driver again. This was the best I could do on such short notice."

Lizzie laughed, "It's perfect. You're a true prince saving a damsel in distress like this.

Darcy poured the champagne into the two mugs that were in the hotel room and handed one to Lizzie. "Why thank you," she said, doing a fake curtsey as she looked around the room. They had stopped on their way back to the hotel to get snacks and wine and had ended up with cheap champagne with a high alcohol content and a lot of sugary snacks. "And again, thank you for saving me. George is possibly the worst person I have ever met."

"It was my pleasure," he said without thinking. "Well, I would have rather you not been tortured by George Wickham but at least we get to spend this extra time together."

Lizzie smiled as she walked around the small room and placed herself at the foot of the bed, "Oh, so you're an optimist."

"Sometimes," he shrugged, sitting on the bed so that he was facing her. "At least you figured out that he was evil in much less time than it took me."

"I'm not always that great at judging someone's character."

"I know," he smiled. "But I think you're getting better."

Lizzie raised her glass full of wine, some of it spilling it over on to the cheap comforter of the hotel room, "I'll cheers to that."