How could he tell her? How could he tell her how Wickham squandered in fathers money, and don't even start on Gigi. She might be doing better thanks to therapy, but neither of them could say his name aloud without Darcy cursing. It didn't help of course that she was currently up to the Wickham chapters in Lizzie's vlogs. They watched them together, Gigi's head resting on his chest as they lay down on the couch, with the computer connected to the Big Screen. While she cried, he consoled her with one hand, using the other to grip a pillow until it was over, leaving several loose, used tissues and one rather shredded pillowcase.

Wickham still had to pay for all the pain he had caused Gigi.

So he sat, at his desk, with a fountain pen threatening to drip ink on the page.

How does one write a litter to one loves when the other does not reciprocate them?

So he began:

My Dearest Elizabeth,

It wasn't a soppy love letter, he was sure Lizzie approved of his method. He watched that video countless of times, she was sincere in her dislike for him. Perhaps his previous plan worked well? Perhaps he should have thought his plan through better? He arrived at Collins & Collins early that morning. Eager to prove to Lizzie that he was not as terrible a person as he seemed from the videos. His letter was wax sealed in a faux parchment envelope. He hoped to God that no one else knew of his… Declaration that he made several days ago.

He handed her the letter and left before anyone had time to wonder about his arrival at Collins & Collins after filing his final report.

Oh God he hoped it worked.