The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet

by Bernie Su

  I still don’t think she’s fully recovered.

  I kept this quiet for my sister’s sake, even when I knew he was maligning me far and wide, buying friendship with a smile and a round of beers. But if you want a secondary source, ask Fitz. He and Gigi are close and she confided in him everything, especially during that period when she was refusing to talk to me.

  This was a very hard letter for me to write. And you may choose to not believe me. You can rip up this letter—and actually, I hope you will when you are done with it. But as you allowed me to be privy to the truth of your perspective through your videos, I hope you will be accepting of mine.

  Thank you for your attention, and giving this letter the benefit of the doubt.

  Sincerely,

  William Darcy

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8TH

  “Charlotte, have I gone too far?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. We had just gotten back to her place after another long day at the office—where we would likely be again in less than eight hours. The life of a start-up. “I thought you decided to not reveal the contents of the letter in your video. Or to me,” she added, pointedly.

  “I have, and I’m not going to,” I replied, letting my bag thud to the ground. “But did I go too far before? Telling every little aspect of my life, hell—posting Darcy’s video . . .”

  “The views you got off that video were insane,” Charlotte countered.

  “I know. But still . . .” I hesitated, and took the glass of wine she had poured for me. It had been that kind of a day. “I was so wrong. About everything.”

  Charlotte took a sip, thinking. “You have been showing events from your perspective. There’s nothing wrong with that. But now, because of Darcy and presumably the letter, your perspective has changed.”

  Yes, my perspective has changed, with every subsequent reading of the letter. I’ve pored over it at least half a dozen times, and each time, my worldview gets knocked a little more out of alignment.

  On the first read, the part about Bing and Jane basically had me seething, and convinced that his snobbishness and superiority made him blind to the true love they had for each other. I was ready to write the entire letter off as completely self-serving, and its author a prime example of a jackass.

  But then I got to the part about George Wickham . . . and while I scoffed at the notion of George being so callous as to ask for money the day after Darcy’s parents’ funeral, a couple of little alarm bells started going off in my brain. Then, when he talked about his sister Gigi . . . You don’t make up something like that about your sister.

  And Darcy may be many things, but I have only ever heard him speak with pride and love about Gigi.

  On second reading, I ignored the queasy butterflies that kept popping up in my stomach as I read the Jane and Bing section and skipped right ahead to the Wickham part. And I began to realize . . . I had only ever heard George talk about his and Darcy’s past. He didn’t offer any proof, he just told a story, and I believed him. Because I was happy to hear anything denigrating Darcy. And then . . . I told everyone else, the entire Internet, without ever questioning it. Was I that blinded by a smile and a set of abs? He had me completely snowed—everyone completely snowed. And here I was, priding myself on being the shrewd Bennet.

  On third reading, I forced myself to go back over the Jane and Bing section. And as I did, I tried my best to recall the moments that I had seen Jane and Bing truly happy together. And while there were a few, I also recalled how Charlotte once said that Jane is too nice to everyone, so that when she really likes someone, it’s hard to tell. Also, I recalled how for the last month or so they were together, Jane was working like crazy and Bing was being pulled away to do interviews. If their relationship were on better footing, maybe they wouldn’t have been so easy to break up.

  God, even his arguments about my family held up in this new light! As much as I love them, how often had I been the one to try and filter Mom, or driven a drunk and rambunctious Lydia home from the bar?

  Basically, I’ve been blind. Partial. Prejudiced. Absurd.

  I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in the corner, thinking about how I acted toward Darcy. And while in my little mental ball, I had to figure out what to do about the videos. And I realized—I couldn’t tell the entire Internet about the contents of the letter. Especially not the parts that involved George and Gigi. And no, this was not about protecting George, or protecting my own self-image online. It was about protecting the details of the life of a young woman I’ve never even met.

  And yes, I have talked about people before, without them knowing, but at least I knew them. And had interaction with them. I wasn’t trading in hearsay.

  Way to split hairs there, Lizzie.

  But the gist of everything is . . . this story isn’t mine to tell. I won’t disrespect Darcy, and especially not Gigi, that way.

  Charlotte disagrees with me. She would have me talk about it to the audience, “maintain the authenticity of our connection.” Or at least to her. But I don’t want to talk about it with them. In fact, the only person I wanted to talk about it with was Darcy.

  Yes, that’s right: after a couple of days of chewing over this letter, I was actually hoping to run into Darcy in the halls. Hoping and dreading. Because . . . I don’t know why. Because I wanted to ask him for more information? To apologize for being so wrong, at least about George? Get a solid explanation about Jane’s supposed indiscretion? (Seriously, what is that about?)

  But unfortunately, he’s gone.

  He and Fitz gave their final report to Catherine De Bourgh (a very favorable report; Charlotte passed with flying colors) and flew back to Los Angeles yesterday.

  We even had to sit through a “celebratory” dinner with Ms. De Bourgh last night, and the entire time she was lamenting the fact that Darcy had to leave, but “of course he’s so important and busy, moguls like him simply don’t visit for weeks. He did that as a favor to me, and it shows just how strong our connection is.”

  And all I could think was, If only you knew. If I had taken Darcy up on his offer to . . . what? Date? Be his girlfriend? Regardless, if I had, that dinner would have been entirely different. And perhaps with less condescension about my life choices. Which, admittedly, would have been fun.

  But considering I still don’t know what my feelings are toward Darcy—because come on, he’s still an unforgiving jerk who hates my family and destroyed my sister—it’s probably a good thing he left town. If I did get the chance to talk to him, to ask for clarity or an apology or to apologize myself . . . I don’t even know where I would begin.

  SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10TH

  You know, I was looking forward to a little bit of drama-free time. I do have an independent study prospectus to write up, which needs to be turned in remarkably soon. Also, I could use a small stretch of time that is completely normal and boring so I can perhaps find my feet again. And now that Darcy had left, I thought I was going to get it.

  But apparently my life doesn’t work that way. If this past year is any indication, my life is going to be constantly reeling from one unexpected visitor to the next.

  “Lizzie!” Caroline Lee cried, as we once again entered Catherine De Bourgh’s compound. “How are you! I’ve missed you!”

  She attacked me with air kisses.

  “Caroline,” I said, sending a shocked What the hell? look to Char. “I’m surprised to see you!”

  “Why?” Caroline asked, cocking her head to the side, causing that curtain of black hair to wave in the nonexistent breeze. “Lizzie, surely you know just how good of friends Catherine and I are.”

  True. In all the times we dined with De Bourgh (how many was it? Eight? Nine?), rarely a monologue went by when Ms. De Bourgh did not mention Caroline.

  “And it’s too bad that she arrived this week and not last, isn’t it, Annie-kins?” The lady in question came forward, letting Annie-kins lick her face like she was a dropped treat on the floor. “We
so enjoy seeing Caroline and Darcy together, don’t we, my sweetie? Yes, we do. Yes, we do.”

  “Miss Lee!” Ricky moved in between Caroline and me, and for once I was glad of it as he took her hand and bowed over it. “It is such a pleasure to meet someone spoken of so glowingly by Ms. De Bourgh, as well as my business partner, Charlotte Lu.”

  Charlotte’s look did not seem to say that she had ever spoken about Caroline in terms even close to glowing, but Ricky’s profuse, if erroneous, compliments did the trick, because Caroline smiled at Charlotte and seemed to relax.

  Then, she came over and attached herself to my arm.

  “Now, you simply have to tell me everything that’s going on with you! I feel like it’s been too long. It’s just so lucky that I found you here, Lizzie!”

  I bet you can guess how dinner went.

  “Liz, look at how Caroline wears her hair. Perhaps you can try to wear your hair like that, although yours will never be as shiny.”

  Well, after having had to give me life advice for the past few weeks without the benefit of an in-house paragon for contrast, having Caroline around must have been a nice refresher.

  “Oh, Catherine!” Caroline blushed. “You said the same thing to the Empress of Japan. And her hair came out just as shiny as mine, once we were done with her.”

  “And I’m always simply agog at how you manage to look so breezy and relaxed, Caroline, especially considering all the hard work that you do,” Ms. De Bourgh continued. “You should give Liz the name of your masseur. She always looks so miserable.”

  “What is it that you do, Caroline?” Charlotte piped up. All eyes flew to her. Apparently, since getting high marks from Darcy, she was feeling a little bit ballsier. “I don’t recall what kind of a job gives you five months off in summer to hang out with your brother.”

  Caroline’s smile froze in place. “I work in publicity.”

  “And fine work she does there, too,” Ms. De Bourgh said haughtily. “It takes a certain level of class to be able to move in the circles we do. Where the decisions are made. It’s not for everyone. Now, Caroline, you must let me tell you all about my nephew’s recent visit. He was a delight except for the times I mentioned you, when I could tell he was just a smidge lonely—”

  If only we hadn’t been under the scrutiny of Catherine De Bourgh! I could have pounced on Caroline for answers to all the questions! Questions like: Why did you leave so abruptly? What’s up with Bing ditching Jane? Why the hell are you here?

  Granted, I know a lot of these answers now, thanks to Darcy, but still . . . I would find what came out of her mouth interesting.

  I guess I have to chalk it up to a missed opportunity. And my cowardice, returning in full force when faced with fancy dinners and people who think they are superior to me. Besides, I’m still so unsettled by what Darcy told me in that letter, I’m not certain what Caroline could possibly tell me that I would want to hear.

  SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11TH

  “Okay, what is Caroline doing here?” I asked in a rush, closing the door to Charlotte’s office. Once again, I thought that one dinner with De Bourgh would be enough to send the unwanted scurrying away, and once again I was wrong.

  “She’s here? Now?” Char asked, jumping out of her chair. “Where?”

  “She didn’t like the questions I was asking, so she pawned herself off on Ricky. He’s likely giving her the office tour.”

  Charlotte paced back and forth in front of the door for a second.

  “God, I hope she’s not another consultant Ms. De Bourgh hired.”

  “I doubt it,” I replied. “Unless you need someone who ‘works in publicity.’ ”

  “Did she say what she wanted?”

  “To catch up, apparently.” Caroline had actually burst into my office and said that she was there to visit me. Considering I hadn’t heard from her in months—and trust me, I’d been trying to reach her—that is highly suspect. “But really, I think she wanted to know what’s in Darcy’s letter.”

  The letter. Which Darcy gave to me on camera.

  “So, she’s been watching your videos,” Charlotte replied.

  “She says she hasn’t, but it’s obvious that she has.” There is no way Caroline turns up here, now, without knowing all about the recent drama. She couldn’t like me that much. She probably never did.

  Char began pacing again, now pulling at her lip, which is what she does when mulling something big over.

  “She wants to know what’s in the letter,” she repeated.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Whodathunk she wanted to know Darcy’s secrets so badly?”

  “I don’t think that’s why she wants to know what’s in it, though,” Char replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s afraid. Afraid he said something about her.”

  “Okay.” I was happy to play along with Investigator Charlotte (I am, after all, Lizzie the Spy). “But what could Darcy have to say about Caroline?”

  “You said you asked her questions. What did you ask?”

  When Caroline burst through my door, I had used the opportunity (and the glaring light of my camera) to ask all those questions I couldn’t delve into the night before. I quickly repeated the whole list to Charlotte: Why did they leave so quickly this summer? Did we do anything wrong? What happened at Bing’s party, the indiscretion?

  “That’s it,” Charlotte interrupted me. “The indiscretion—did she tell you what it was?”

  “No, she skipped right over that.”

  “She knows what it is, it involves her, and she wants to make sure Darcy didn’t spill that secret.”

  I blinked at Char. “That seems a bit of a stretch.”

  “Think about it.” She came over and sat down next to me. She had that gleam in her eye like she’d figured out an Agatha Christie whodunit. “It’s the straw that broke the Jane and Bing’s back. If she had something to do with it, whatever it is . . .”

  “Why would she care if I found out now? Jane and Bing are already broken up.” And from what Jane has said, it’s permanent.

  “Maybe she doesn’t care about you finding out.” Char pulled on her lip again. “Maybe she cares about them. Your viewers.”

  I let that sink in for a second. “You know, she did burst into my office just when I was filming. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”

  Char nodded. “And she knows your filming schedule. That you generally shoot your videos on Sunday and post them on Monday, film on Wednesday and post on Thursday.”

  “Okay, but . . . she cares that much about what people think about her?”

  “When you were at Netherfield, Caroline made sure she was seen as your friend on the videos,” Char argued. “But what did she do when the camera wasn’t on?”

  “She was fine to me, and Jane, but . . . more often than not, she was making snarky comments in the corner with Darcy.” Meaning that Caroline never did like us. She was just playing nice for Bing’s sake, and for the sake of the camera.

  Charlotte smirked in triumph. “As someone who quote-unquote works in publicity, she would know that there is such a thing as bad press.”

  It all fit. With Charlotte’s logic and hindsight, I could see everything. Caroline being nice to me at Netherfield (she knew about the videos, and didn’t want me saying bad things about her anymore), egging me on to vent my Darcy frustration (she wanted it recorded that I hated him, because she had some idea of how he felt about me), her saccharine quality whenever we met out in the world (barely hidden disgust), and her lack of communication once they left town (Bing was free from the little people, back to the big city).

  Oh, and those snarky comments in the corner with Darcy! She was ingratiating herself to him. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see that Caroline’s crush on Darcy was pretty ill-concealed. There’s a reason she’s Catherine De Bourgh’s favorite potential life mate for her nephew.

  “Excuse me,” I said, rising, acting as dignified as I could manage. “But I ha
ve to go tell off Caroline, in terms my mother would describe as unladylike.”

  “No, wait!” Char blocked me from the door.

  “What for?”

  “Why tell off Caroline, and only have satisfaction for yourself, when you can get her to reveal her true colors on camera, and expose her to the world? Then, we may have a chance of getting real answers, too.”

  I paused.

  “Charlotte Lu. I do enjoy your devious mind.” I sat back down. “But how?”

  “We have until your Wednesday filming to figure it out.”

  I sighed. “Okay, but after this, I really do have to start working on my prospectus.”

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16TH

  Well. That was fun. Caroline came to see me on Wednesday just as I happened to be filming. Shocking, that. And she just happened to apologize for lying and saying that she hadn’t been watching the videos; she was just so worried about me, given recent events, and wanted to be here for me.

  Of course she did.

  Charlotte played her part like a pro. I think for Christmas I’m going to sign her up for community theater. She called Caroline out on her coincidental propensity to come and see me when I’m filming, as well as her “helping” to keep the videos from Bing and Darcy. That flustered her enough that we actually got to see the Real Caroline Lee for once.

  And the Real Caroline Lee? Not so nice.

  She admitted that she deliberately didn’t tell Bing that Jane loved him when Darcy pulled Bing away, because she thinks Jane is unworthy of her brother. That Jane’s career is going nowhere and that Bing has more responsibilities than prancing around being in love with someone who comes from a family so very far beneath him. Of course, she rationalized this by saying she did it out of love for her brother. She would do anything for the preservation of her family, and their “happiness.”

  I meanwhile restrained the urge to slap her.

  So there you have it, Caroline Lee—crappy sister, no friend to the Bennets. Glad we got that one cleared up.