I don’t even have to think about this one. As soon as I saw the question, Elizabeth Bennett’s name popped into my head faster than you could say…well…anyone else!

So here’s the set up. I’m on the elevator and by some time warp bend, Elizabeth Bennett gets on with me. I’m me, she’s…her. Because she was written over 200 years before I came on the scene, we’re a little differently dressed. I’m in jeans and an old Dartmouth hoodie, she’s in the typical garb of her day, parasol and reticule in hand. She nods and smiles pleasantly at me, then turns to face the elevator door forgetting I exist.

No way, Liz.

First and foremost, we need to have a little discussion about Wickham. For someone drawn as the “smart” one in the family, how come you were so blind to his narcissism? I read Pride and Prejudice for the…