After a looooong hiatus, I’m back to writing fanfiction. And guess which fandom this is for?
Hope: a Lizzie Bennet Diaries fanfiction
Darcy stared at his laptop screen, still trying to process the events in front of his face.
Event number one: Lizzie was here. At Pemberley. True, he would have appreciated some warning, but then again, how was his staff to know that he had a… history with this particular visitor?
This of course led to his remembering the details of said event: emerging from the pool to see her standing there, staring at him. To say he had been surprised would be a massive understatement. He still didn’t quite understand how he had managed to say anything to her: possibly a side effect of strict instruction in proper protocol. In that case, as he had several times in the past, he found cause to thank the rigorous instructors at his old boarding school.
Perhaps another financial contribution was in order.
He made a note of this as he mulled further. Most noteworthy was Lizzie’s attitude towards him. After viewing her videos- in particular one in which her younger sister and Mr. Collins had played the roles of himself and Lizzie- he was even more conscious of her hostility in almost all of their encounters. It was a…. pleasant surprise that her animosity was nowhere to be seen in their brief meeting. Then again, “pleasant” was a rather mild word for it…
He swiftly moved on to event number two- the event that was the cause of his current occupation: staring at his laptop screen. A quick check of his email in what was turning out to be a futile attempt to even himself out after the encounter had led to this rare trip to his twitter account, where the unbelievable had truly happened.
Lizzie was following him.
His hand reached out: before he knew it, the box to compose a new tweet was open. His hands went to his keyboard… and stopped. They hovered briefly, but soon came to rest on the smooth, slightly warm keys. There, they stopped. His mind was a complete blank.
What in the world do you say to the woman you’re in love with if she begins showing signs that she doesn’t hate you?
His fingers moved, then fell still once more. Into his mind flooded all the things he wished he could say, all the things he wanted to say. But still, his fingers didn’t move.
In the end, he simply closed the window and strode out of the room, determined to find her and speak to her face to face. As much as he seemed to have failed in this form of communication in the past, it was far better than sending her a message over such a public network.
Twitter, after all, did not afford him the pleasure that her fine eyes could bring. Perhaps, if he was able to move beyond his natural reserve, he would even see her smile as she had in her videos. Only this time, that beautiful smile would be for him.