She wasn’t sure whether to be proud or nauseated.
On one hand, strangers applauded her sarcasm, turned her one-liner into a manifesto. On the other hand, Darcy’s app was blowing up, climbing charts like a lovechild of Cupid and Google Analytics. It was like setting fire to a monster and watching it grow stronger in the flames.
“You can’t just roast a man in front of hundreds of people and then subtweet him to death,” Jane said, arms crossed and tea untouched.
“I didn’t roast him. I grilled him lightly and served him with facts.” Elizabeth groaned.
“Lizzy!”
“What?” She sat up and hugged a cushion. “I don’t like him. Is that a crime now?”
Jane sighed. “How do you even hate someone you’ve just met?”
Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. “Easily. He carries himself like he’s the smartest man in the room and resents the room for existing. And in case you didn’t know, he said, and I quote, ‘she is not handsome enough to tempt him.’”
Jane winced. “When was that?”
“At the gala, obviously.” Elizabeth waved it off like an afterthought. “I assumed your dear Bingley would’ve filled you in.”
Jane winced. “He did say he tried convincing Darcy to dance with you. That Darcy wasn’t interested. I just didn’t realise he said something like that. I doubt he meant for you to hear it.”
“I did. And now I’m tempted to sue for emotional damages.”
Jane arched an eyebrow. “You’re being dramatic.”
“He called love data. He made romance sound like a glorified Excel sheet. His whole keynote was one long TED Talk from someone who’s never been on a date that wasn’t booked by his assistant.”
Jane blinked. “That’s… specific.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. Which is why, to prove just how ridiculous the entire premise of TrueNorth is, I signed up.”
Jane nearly spilled her tea. “You what?”
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth said, holding up a hand. “I used an alias. My profile says: ‘Fluent in sarcasm and iced coffee,’ ‘Books over bios,’ and ‘Swipe left if your profile pic is you with a tiger.’”
Jane stared. “You’re unbelievable, Lizzy.”
“I’m being fair! After that mother’s conference-call disaster, I decided I’d give the app a shot before I completely demolish it in my article.”
“You’re going on a date?”
“One. Just one. For research. To prove to him—and to everyone—that chemistry isn’t a code you can write.”
Jane shook her head slowly, the way someone does when they know a train’s about to derail and there’s nothing to be done.
“Just be careful, okay?” she said softly. “Algorithms might be flawed, but people can be worse.”
Elizabeth didn’t answer right away. She stretched her legs across the couch and sighed. “I’m always careful.”
“That’s what you said the time you wrote that takedown of the vegan food truck and the guy showed up at your door with kale muffins and a cease-and-desist.”
Elizabeth smiled. “In my defence, the muffins were dry.”
Their conversation drifted after that—off the ledge of tech and algorithms and into the safer waters of home. Of their parents. Of Mrs Bennet’s morning call and how she’d already found three new reasons why Elizabeth was still single. Of Mary’s newest philosophical podcast. Of Kitty and Lydia’s renewed obsession with men in uniform, thanks to a series of military TikToks they were now “researching” with religious fervour.
They laughed, traded old stories, and for a while, the firestorm of the internet was somewhere far away. By the time Elizabeth got up to pour herself more tea, the weight in her chest had eased.
Still, she knew what she was doing wasn’t just curiosity or journalism. It was something else.
