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Home at last and thoroughly rattled — because Mr. Darcy was kind, and that was not supposed to happen — Lizzie does the only sensible thing and reopens the dating app to reset herself. She swipes right on George Wickham: warm, funny, easy, everything Darcy is not. Coffee is effortless until his eyes catch on the word 'Netherfield' and he lets slip that he and Darcy go way back. Then comes the story — the two of them practically raised as family, a promise of a place in the business, and Darcy quietly making sure that after his father died, George got nothing. It's wounded, it's gracious, and it hands Lizzie exactly the villain she wanted back. She leaves vindicated, her old verdict re-cemented — never noticing the cold, calculating flicker behind George's easy smile the moment she looks away, nor the way Darcy's unexpected kindness still snags at the very edge of her certainty.
第 1 頁
A wide establishing shot of the cozy, cluttered Bennet family home — plants, throw blankets, framed photos, warm afternoon light. Lizzie has just gotten home from Netherfield, letting her overnight bag slide off her shoulder toward the floor as she tips her head back with a long, relieved exhale, still in her olive-green jacket and jeans. It is warm and lived-in, the opposite of a cold glass mansion. Lizzie: 'Home.'
第 2 頁
Jane, recovering but still a little pale, is curled on the couch under a blanket with a mug of tea, a gentle knowing smile on her face. Lizzie flops down beside her and rubs her face, admitting something reluctantly. Lizzie: 'Darcy was... not what I expected.' Jane: 'Oh?'
第 3 頁
Lydia leans over the back of the couch, grinning mischievously, phone in hand, to tease her sister. Lydia: 'Alone in a mansion with a hot rich guy for THREE days...' Lizzie shoots her a flat, unimpressed look, arms crossed. Lizzie: 'Nothing happened.'
第 4 頁
Late that evening, unsettled and restless, Lizzie lies back on her bed and holds her phone above her face, reopening a dating app to reset herself. A close-up shows her thumb swiping across the glowing screen. Lizzie (thinking): 'Reset.'
第 5 頁
The phone shows a dating-app profile card: a warm, grinning, handsome man — George Wickham, with chestnut tousled hair, light stubble, hazel-green eyes and a denim jacket. Lizzie's face lights up with an intrigued, pleased smile as her thumb presses right. Lizzie: 'Well, hello.'
第 6 頁
A warm, cozy indie coffee shop — exposed brick, hanging plants, Edison-bulb string lights, mismatched wooden tables, afternoon sun. Lizzie steps in through the door in a warm rust knit top, glancing around for her date with a small hopeful smile. (No dialogue.)
第 7 頁
George Wickham rises from a corner table with an easy, warm, crooked grin and a friendly wave — chestnut tousled hair, light stubble, a denim jacket over a henley. George: 'You must be Lizzie.' Lizzie approaches, disarmed and smiling despite herself. Lizzie: 'Guilty.'
第 8 頁
Coffee is effortless, panel by panel. George, mid-story, laughing and gesturing over their two cups: 'So then the whole tent collapses. On the mayor.' Lizzie laughs openly, delighted: 'You did NOT.' The two lean in across the little table, easy chemistry between them. George rests his chin on his hand, looking at her warmly: 'This is easy. I like easy.'
第 9 頁
Relaxed, Lizzie mentions where she has just been. Lizzie: 'I was actually just staying at Netherfield.' George's easy grin pauses, one eyebrow lifting with sharpened interest at the word. George: 'Netherfield. So you've met Darcy.'
第 10 頁
Lizzie blinks, surprised, leaning in. Lizzie: 'You KNOW him?' George's warm smile goes quiet and a touch rueful as he looks down into his coffee, a shadow of old hurt on his face. George: 'We grew up together.'
第 11 頁
George tells his story, the panels shifting from warm sepia memory to cold grey betrayal. A teenage George laughs beside Darcy's kindly grey-haired father, an arm around his shoulder. George: 'His dad treated me like a second son.' The older man shakes young George's hand warmly, as if making a promise. George: 'Promised me a place in the business.' A stern young Darcy stands apart, arms folded, watching coldly. Darcy coldly closes a door on a stunned young George. George: 'Then his father died.' Young George stands alone in the rain outside the big house, holding a single box of belongings. George: 'Darcy made sure I got nothing.' Back in the warm cafe, George gives a small, brave, rueful shrug. George: 'Anyway. Ancient history.'
第 12 頁
Lizzie is riveted and sympathetic, a hand half-reaching across the table. Lizzie: 'God. That's awful.' Then her sympathy hardens into grim vindication as the story clicks into place with everything she already believed, her eyes narrowing into a slow, knowing nod. Lizzie: 'But honestly? It tracks.'
第 13 頁
George waves the sympathy off graciously, with a modest, noble little smile that makes him look bigger than the grudge. George: 'I don't need his money. I'm doing fine.' But the very instant Lizzie glances away to her coffee, George's warm expression drops for a split second into a cold, flat, calculating look — the mask slipping, his eyes gone hard and appraising — before the charm snaps back into place.
第 14 頁
Out on the golden-hour sidewalk, George and Lizzie say goodbye, warm and easy with each other. George: 'Same time next week?' George walks off with a friendly backward wave, his easy grin restored, while Lizzie watches, pleased. Lizzie: 'Yeah. I'd like that.'
第 15 頁
Lizzie walks home along a leafy street at dusk, hands in her pockets, a small satisfied private smile on her face. A close-up catches her murmuring to herself, quietly vindicated. Lizzie: 'I knew it. I was right about him.'
第 16 頁
Lizzie pauses under a streetlight, and her satisfied smile falters for a moment as an unbidden memory surfaces — shown as a soft, ghosted image at the edge of the panel: Darcy in the Netherfield foyer, with unexpectedly gentle eyes. A tiny crease of doubt appears between her brows before she can shake it off and walk on. Lizzie (thinking): '...Mostly.'