A/N-- …I wasn't going to write this chapter. I'd decided that this was going to be a Darcy-only POV thing, but, I guess… It wanted to be written. Oh, and this might not be that great of a pillow, sorry. I'll make up for it later, I promise. ;)

Lizzy sat at the breakfast table, placidly chewing a spoonful of cold cereal. Her eyes were glazed over and her look was vacant; she was still half asleep, and took no pains to hide it.

The house she shared with her sister was empty. Jane had gone out to see William Darcy and his cousin Richard off. As far as she knew, their vacation was over. It was back to work for them.

She couldn't care less. Although she had to admit, she did find Richard to be an amusing companion.

Her mind inevitably found itself occupied with thoughts of Richard's cousin. Her brow furrowed, but her distant look remained.

William was... well, something about him didn't sit right with her. She'd never liked him much—especially at first. She almost snorted as she remembered the look on his face at the welcome party the neighbors threw for Charles. He'd looked like a crotchety old man that had spotted kids playing on his lawn. She couldn't exactly hold his not enjoying the party against him, to be sure, but it wasn't long before she realized that it wasn't just the party that had tossed him into a disagreeable mood—oh no.

He thought himself above the company.

And more importantly, he thought himself above her.

She'd been shocked when he made certain unfavorable comments toward her, not even bothering to lower his voice for the sake of private offense. And he had seen her within earshot.

She was sure of it.

Then again...

He had apologized. And he'd baked a cake himself to show he truly was sorry. And as much as she wanted to attest the treat to motives of an easy bribe, he couldn't know of her affinity for baked goods. True, he'd seen her eat, and knew she was no Caroline when it came to her diet, but still. She could easily have said she hated sweets, and so that form of bribery would be null and void.

And he would know that, because he was William Darcy. That meant he was willing to take the risk of her not liking the cake. That meant he was willing to risk time and effort—and worry, if she recalled correctly. Which was a testament to his sincerity.

Call her paranoid, but that was her reasoning.

And from there, it seemed things got better. Marginally. But she couldn't quite shake the initial impression he had given off, even if he seemed to be trying to be friendly.

And then, of course, she'd met George Wickham.

She still seethed when she thought of how Darcy had callously treated him.

She angrily brought another spoonful up to her mouth only to find it empty. Surprised out of her musings, she looked down and saw that her bowl was empty. She scowled slightly, her stomach nowhere near satisfied, and rose to pour herself another bowl.

The noise the cereal made on contact with the bowl masked the sound of the front door opening nicely. When Lizzy turned around to get more milk, she nearly dropped her bowl. Jane stood at the edge of the table, draping her coat on one of the chairs.

"God, Jane, you scared the life out of me!" she said, a smile growing on her face as she calmed down.

Jane did not smile back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured politely. Lizzy raised a brow slightly.

"So have the visitors been successfully transported?" she asked. Jane flicked a look her way, but her eyes did not linger long on her sister. She nodded. Lizzy's other brow joined its complement in a furrow that bespoke faint confusion.

"Are you alright?"

This time, Jane looked her full in the face, giving her a small smile.

"I'm fine," she assured her. She took out an envelope from her pocket and held it out. "Here. This is for you."

Lizzy took it with a bit of surprise.

"The mail came already?"

Jane shook her head.

"I need to get a head start on my article," she said. "If you need me, I'll be in the office."

Lizzy smiled in acknowledgment. Jane left the room and Lizzy put the letter down next to her bowl on the counter. After her breakfast, she had to go into town for some urgent business.

The letter could wait.

Lizzy sighed and let herself fall onto her bed at the end of the day. She was positively exhausted. All day she'd been moving, and for the past three hours, she'd been running on empty. She could not wait to turn in for the night....

She was drifting off, semiconscious on the bed, when it hit her. That letter. She groaned as she saw it in her mind's eye, sitting patiently on the kitchen counter, waiting to be read. She tried to dismiss it, but she knew it was in vain. That image would be burned into her mind, nagging, until she read it.

Lizzy sighed and got up, her body protesting with every movement. She trudged to the kitchen and flicked the light on. It was still there where she put it. She picked it up and took it back to her room.

She plopped back down on her bed and opened the envelope with as much care as one can bestow on an envelope when trying to open it as quickly as humanly possible. Which, for Lizzy, was a surprising amount.

The first thing she noticed was that the pages inside the envelope were lined. She grinned. So, this was an actual letter! That was unexpected. Pleasant, but unexpected. She wondered if it was from one of her little cousins, but no, it couldn't have been. For one thing, the handwriting on the envelope was unfamiliar. For another, it didn't have any information on it.

She frowned slightly in confusion. That was odd. How had it been mailed if there were no addresses? But then she remembered—Jane had hand delivered it to her. Someone must have given it directly to her, then. But who would need to give her a letter, of all things? And why?

She took out the sheets of paper inside and noticed another thing. This letter was long. The pages were written on both front and back. She unfolded the sheaves and looked at the first page. Whoever had written it had courteously numbered the pages.

Elizabeth, it began in a pleasingly even hand. I would like to begin by saying that this is not a repetition of what I said—or what I wished to say—last night….

Lizzy rubbed her eyes and yawned. If she wasn't thoroughly drained before, she was now. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly to ward off the stinging caused by overuse, and sighed.

Well, that was quite the bombshell.

George Wickham... Good God, George Wickham! She felt the stirrings of red anger as she recalled a few certain points made wonderfully clear by that letter.

Wickham!

She simply felt for a few moments, unable to form any coherent thoughts, letting the raw emotion crowd out any rational ideas. Slowly, the anger dissipated.

She was fast asleep even before it went away completely.

When Lizzy woke, it was far later than she had wanted it to be. She let out a panicked expletive as she saw the clock and quickly stumbled out of bed. The letter fluttered to the floor, coming to a rest at her feet. She stared at it.

Instantly, all its contents came back to her in a rush. She scooped it up, intent on rereading a few paragraphs. She had no doubt that she missed something last night. Elizabeth had been so tired, she'd had to read passages over and over again before they sunk in.

She glanced quickly at the clock and groaned. She was behind schedule. There was absolutely no time for her to read now. Scowling at herself, she set the letter down. She would get to read it again.

Soon.

Perhaps at lunch.

She did not break her promise to herself. At lunch, she'd set off for the café she usually ate at. She'd been on a bit of an off and on holiday all month, so she hadn't hit the spot for a while, but that was over. Her vacation time was up. Pretty much the only thing she had to look forward to was the Christmas holiday.

Lizzy was not by nature a lazy person. She enjoyed working, most of the time. It was just that the past month had been so deuced stressful, it hadn't even felt like a vacation. She needed a vacation from her vacation.

Sighing, she pushed open the familiar glass doors and located her usual table. Before she even sat down, a long-time waitress named Jenny was at her side.

"Hello, Lizzy!" she greeted with a smile. "How was your vacation?"

Elizabeth returned the smile.

"It's been alright," she shrugged. "Kind of counterproductive, but I'll live. The year's almost over, anyway."

"Oh, one of those," Jenny murmured sympathetically. "Sorry about that."

Lizzy shrugged again.

"So what can I get you? Would you like a menu, or...?"

"No, I'm good. I'll just have the usual."

Jenny smiled.

"Alright, then. It'll be out shortly."

They parted with smiles and Lizzy was finally granted the opportunity to read her letter. She took it out of her pocket and carefully unfolded it, laying it on the table and smoothing it out. She leaned over it and earnestly pored over the contents.

She was in the middle of the paragraph that explained George's manipulation of Georgiana Darcy for money when Jenny returned with her order. Lizzy looked up quickly with an expression that was almost guilty. The waitress set the plate down.

"You alright, Liz?" Jenny peered at her curiously with no small amount of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She glanced down at the papers. Jenny noticed this.

"What are those?" she asked. Lizzy subtly tried to cover them up. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she answered quickly.

"Oh..." Jenny could sense that Elizabeth wasn't in a chatty mood. "Alright, then. Can I get you anything else?"

Lizzy shook her head. With that, the waitress left, and she was able to get back to her missive.

Lizzy had finished her meal and her letter and was ready to leave. She got up and quietly thanked her café friend, leaving the tip on the table as was customary. She left in a somber mood.

Outside, she started walking. She'd only gotten to the corner when she noticed a familiar figure crossing the street. She started, then clenched her teeth as her blood ran cold.

Oh, how fabulously coincidental.

He crossed over and entered the café. On a particularly powerful impulse, she turned on her heel and walked back, intent on confronting him.

She entered after him, her eyes brimming with suppressed anger. She quickly found him sitting in a corner, wearing a smooth smile and chatting up the waitress. Jenny's face was flushed, and she smiled bashfully.

Lizzy bit back the nasty barb on her tongue and swallowed her ire. She waited patiently until he'd ordered and Jenny turned to leave.

"Oh... Hi, again." Jenny's face bespoke her confusion. "Did you forget something?"

Lizzy tried smiling.

"Sort of," she said. George Wickham, at that moment, chose to acknowledge her. His eyes flitted quickly to the side before resting on her.

"Lizzy!" he exclaimed with just enough rasp in his voice to convince someone he had been sick for a while. He smiled tiredly at her. She smiled back frostily.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, before coughing lightly. "I had to get out. I can't stand being cooped up, you know, and I really needed some good food. All I've been having is canned soup; you can imagine how old that gets...."

He trailed off, taking in her expression. He gave her another hesitant smile. This time, it was troubled.

"That's all right, George, I'll stand."

"Oh." He looked around. "I'm sorry I couldn't come to that party. How was it?"

"It was fine," she answered shortly.

"Oh."

"Yes. Actually, because of that party, I learned some things."

"Learned some things?"

"Yes. You know, I got to talk to Darcy."

"You did!" He was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. "Well, I'm sorry for that. Tell me, was he just as rude as ever?"

She smiled.

"I'm sure you are sorry for that," she said, ignoring his lunge for an opportunity to belittle the man. "I'm not, though. There are a couple things I learned about you. You know. Stories about the past." She waved her hand as if it were unimportant. "And I learned some more recent things you've done."

"Oh," he said lamely.

"Yes. Oh." Lizzy then noticed a few curious faces turned their way. Some instantly were averted when discovered, others stared back shamelessly.

She looked back to George and lowered her voice, stepping closer so her words wouldn't carry.

"I know what you did to Georgiana Darcy."

He paled. She stepped back and smiled again.

"I think it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore."

George licked his lips apprehensively and his eyes flicked from one side of the café to the other.

"What, and you're just gonna believe Darcy? You know how he is!"

She regarded him with a calculated look.

"Yes. I think I do." She flicked a glance toward Jenny.

"Be careful with this one," she said, jabbing a thumb in Wickham's direction. Without ceremony, Elizabeth Bennet exited the café.

In all actuality, Lizzy's final statement to George bothered her. It nagged at the back of her head all day, making her tense and distracted. A few of her colleagues had remarked on it, only to receive unsatisfactory answers and tight smiles. At least now, at home, she didn't have to assume a normal façade.

Her statement was a lie. It had left her mouth after a short time of contemplation in which she thought she'd started to see the real Will Darcy in her memories. But she'd had time to reflect after that.

And she was honestly, completely confused.

She knew Wickham was a liar. She had enough faith in the letter's contents to ensure that. Darcy wouldn't make something like that up. She at least knew that much about him.

But then, who exactly was he? Wickham had called him everything under the sun, and she had agreed with many of those things, but Wickham was no longer a reliable source. In order for him to be popular, Darcy had to be disliked, so it would be natural that he would exaggerate. But what did he exaggerate? And how much did he exaggerate it?

Her brow furrowed. She was starting to get a headache.

She looked out the window in an attempt to clear her head. It was starting to get dark outside. Jane should've been on her way home from the grocery store by now.

"Lizzy?" As if on cue, she heard her sister's voice floating down the hallway. In a few short moments, Jane had found her. "Lizzy, I got the..." She trailed off as she took in her sister's countenance. It was made exhausted from all Lizzy's mental exertions throughout the day.

"Lizzy, are you alright?"

Elizabeth smiled tiredly.

"Jane, I need to tell you something."