One year ago today, I confessed my true feelings to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. While at the time she did not return the sentiment, since then we have grown inseparable.
She has even taught me how to tie a real bowtie. At last I am free of the tyranny of clip-ons.
Since Lizzie ended her video diary seven months ago, much has happened. Lizzie continues to work with Pemberley Digital, and her sisters are doing splendidly. Jane and Bing are very happy together in New York, having patched up their relationship not long after the move. As for Lydia, well, she’s done quite a bit of growing up. However, she continues to prank call me on a distressingly regular basis. Lizzie has told me that it is a sign of her acceptance of me.
I have heard little from my dear Mr. Bearcy in the months he has been traveling abroad. I so wish he would update his World Wide Web Log, at the very least. I would like to know his whereabouts, and if he is still in one piece, still fully stuffed. I assume he is having a pleasant time, and look forward to seeing him again some day.
Tonight I have plans to take Lizzie out to a lovely dinner at our favorite little restaurant. While our anniversary as a couple is not for a few more months, tonight marks one year since we began our relationship, however strained
and fraught with constant sobbing it may have been. And I have a very special gift to give her, as well as a very important question to ask.
Until later, my sweet diary. I must apologize yet again for my absence. Perhaps you will hear from me again soon, if all goes well. If anymore of those mysterious “asks” appear in my “entry box,” I will try my best to answer, or at the very least have one of my two interns look them over and respond accordingly.
The other morning, Lizzie and I (along her sisters and Bing) boarded a flight to Portland to attend a convention known as the “LeakyCon.” (Before leaving, Lizzie made it a point to notify me that this was not a plumbing convention, but in fact one to celebrate the Harry Potter novels.)
Upon arriving at baggage claim, I noticed a young lady carrying a small bear who bore a striking resemblance to my own Mr. Bearcy. I dismissed the thought, certain that my young friend was elsewhere. Travelling the world. Making friends. Leading an exciting life
But suddenly I heard a shout across the room. I turned back just as the bear shouted, “Accio best friend!” Unable to help myself, I ran to him.
I could not conceal my tears of joy He said that he was sorry for not writing more, but was caught up in his many adventures, and also his paws make it difficult to type. It turns out that the young lady is accompanying him to LeakyCon, as he is too small and fluffy to fly alone. I thanked her for taking care of Mr. Bearcy, who promised to spend as much time with me as possible at the convention. I can only hope he does not abandon me again for I shall cry great tears of everlasting sorrow
I was very glad to be reunited with my dear friend, if only for a short time. Lizzie even demanded the two of us take a photo together. She says that is what normal people do when they have friends.
I must be off now, but wanted to chronicle my reunion with my dearest of all friends with you, Diary.
(as transcribed by my intern)
I know that I recently told you that our relationship must come to a close. However, I have underestimated the strength of my heart
and the sadness in my soul. I could never truly abandon you, Diary. And so I feel I must apologize for my absence over the past few weeks. With the launch of the Domino application, and Gigi getting settled in Sandition, and my glorious romance with my dear Miss Bennet, you can understand how I may fall behind on certain things.
I deeply wish to continue writing to you, Diary, but in order to do so and keep up at Pemberley Digital, I have decided to hire two interns to maintain the entries.
Miss Mumblybee and Miss Blogdenerdy (odd monikers, I know — they prefer to be referred to by their “blog names,” though I am sure I do not know what a “blog” could be), will review and enter my diary entries into the Tumblr, as well as aid me in my responses to these mysterious “asks” that appear in my “inbox.” In order to be sure you are not misled by
Fitz impostors, I have included these photos that they took with Mr. Bearcy before he left on his journey: I do hope to hear from him soon, as I have nothing to absorb my tears and Lizzie says I’ve ruined the shoulders of too many of her shirts.
With their help I am sure that I will be able to continue writing to you
and perhaps not cry so much all the time.
Anonymous asked: Sooo....what DID happen to Wickham? He seems to have mysteriously disappeared...
I assure you he is perfectly safe.
Somewhere very far away.
Today I saw a flower that reminded me of Lizzie. I picked it for her. She then scolded me for “hurting nature.”
The flower is on my mantle now, haunting me.
Anonymous asked: If you were to make a mix tape for your dear Elizabeth, what tracks would you put on it?
There’s no point in telling you what songs I’d choose. You’ve probably never heard of them.
Anonymous asked: "From a very large rabbit": That wouldn't be you teasing us, would it?
I am sure I do not know what you are referring to…
I am becoming fearful that you are not a normal diary. Due to the recent influx of “asks,” I am beginning to wonder if you are in fact a horcrux containing a piece of soul belonging to one Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Needless to say, I must maintain constant vigilance.
With hesitant love,
thenebula asked: I hear Mr Bearcy is going to be travelling a lot soon- are you going to miss him?
I will miss him most ardently, but I trust that he will return home once he has seen the world. It is in the man-bear code — we shall never desert one another.
Anonymous asked: Hey Darcy! I (and I'm pretty sure when I say "I" I'm really speaking for everyone) would like to know if a certain female internet personality, whose name starts with L and ends with izzie, really does snore. Because her best friend said she does...
I can neither confirm nor deny this
for it would cause me to be put in grave peril.