The Lizzie Bennet Diaries

Thanksgiving break is over.

Although the leftovers are not.

In spite of the fact that we didn't have any extended family over this year,

my mom still bought a thirty pound turkey.

Why, you ask? I used to wonder that too,

but I have recently developed a theory.

It’s actually a very subtle ploy.

Mom thinks that if she continues to cook more and more food,

eventually, we’ll have to bring husbands and grandchildren over to help eat it all.

But I have foiled her plan. Charlotte is on her way over

and I happen to know I can get her to take home at least a gallon of turkey soup.

Every year. Never fails.

My name is Lizzie Bennet and I will not be upfoxed.

- So, Charlotte. - Lizzie.

- How was your Thanksgiving? - Great! How was yours?

Fine.

You invited me over so you could trick me into taking home turkey soup, didn’t you?

Trick you? I would never trick you.

No, I— - Do this every year, but that’s fine.

In fact, I will take home not only a gallon of turkey soup,

but also a Tupperware full of stuffing. - That’s great!

Just as soon as you tell me what Darcy’s letter said about George Wickham.

What makes you think Darcy’s letter was about George?

Please. Everyone watching knows the letter was about George.

That’s an… interesting hypothesis, but if I haven’t discussed this

with you or my sisters or anyone in private,

what makes you think I’m going to share it on the internet?

Because if hypothetically you have new information,

you really should share Darcy’ side of the story.

No. I think what we’ve learned from all this, is that I really shouldn't.

I can't be sure I have the whole story.

And what proof did you have when you shared George’s side?

To be fair, I didn’t share George’s side. I shared a story.

A hypothetical story. - Sure.

Fine. But I’m only doing this in the interest of fairness.