Prom and Prejudice (10 page)

I couldn't look at Wick. I was so horrified that I'd assumed he had any feeling for me at all.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you sooner," he began.

I cut him off. "Oh, it's fine. You didn't need to say anything to me. It's not like we were, um, dating or anything."

He leaned back in his chair. "I don't want you to be mad at me -- I
do
have an ulterior motive with Sylvia. Her dad runs a pretty big law firm in New York. Entertainment law, not nearly as prestigious as Mr. Darcy's corporate law office. But since that didn't work out, I thought I'd try to make a connection a different way. An internship at his law firm practically guarantees acceptance at an Ivy League school."

I was trying to reconcile everything Wick had said to me in the past about the spoiled brats at Pemberley and Longbourn with what he was saying now.

He continued, "I know that I must seem like a hypocrite to you. That's why I didn't want to tell you. But you're still fairly new to the whole rich crowd. Lizzie, you've got to understand that we need to take advantage of our situations when we can. Hang around with them long enough, you start to appreciate it, even as you work to undermine it. There's a big difference between
connections
and
connection.
What I have with Sylvia is a matter of
connections.
What I have with you is a matter of
connection.
One is vastly more important than the other, and I'm sure you can imagine which it is."

All I could do was nod. I excused myself and went to the back room. I was equal parts hurt, angry, and embarrassed by his revelation. I really liked Wick, and I'd foolishly thought he liked me.
Maybe, in a twisted way, he still did. But what really did matter most -- connections or connection? He was the first guy I met here who'd understood me. He liked me for who I was. But was that enough? After all, I didn't have a rich family or fancy job prospects.

He hadn't once mentioned that he
liked
Sylvia. Did that mean he could still like me? Or that liking had nothing to do with it? Could I truly fault him for taking advantage, when I knew that neither of us would ever be
given
an advantage?

I looked at my gray coat hanging on the employee coatrack. Colin still refused to admit he bought it for me, so I couldn't have returned it even if I wanted to. But even though I knew that, I wondered: Did keeping the coat mean that I was taking advantage of my situation? Did I feel the same way about Charlotte going to the prom with Colin that I did about Wick and Sylvia?

It was bad enough to see friendship and love in terms of politics. But seeing it in terms of business was even worse. I looked out from the back room and saw Wick patiently waiting for me. Then he looked up. Saw me. And we hung there for a moment.

I knew I was overreacting to what he'd said because I wanted him to like me. I was taking it personally.

The question was: How personal did it really get? Was I frightened by his desire for connections, or by my own lack of them? I stayed there in the doorway until he got the hint and left. It's very easy to get a boy to leave a room. It's much harder to get him to leave your thoughts.

T
HE FOLLOWING WEEKS BECAME A CYCLE OF SCHOOL, homework, practice, and work. The pranks and vitriol lessened as students started studying for midterms and the prom committee called meetings practically every evening. The piano had become the only bright spot in my day. I felt like I was accomplishing something,
anything
by making my way, slowly yet surely, through Rachmaninoff.

Jane and I stayed in most nights. She became more and more depressed as the list of girls with prom dates grew and grew.
Adding insult to injury, she was having a very expensive dress made for her. Her mother seemed to think that everything would eventually work out, and didn't want her to be unprepared.

Neither one of us even bothered to attend the "mandatory" prom orientation meeting where the rundown of activities was discussed, media release forms were handed out, and preinter-views were scheduled. (Charlotte decided to brave the meeting, only to be told the wrong room. Then, when she finally arrived, they claimed they didn't have any more forms for her.)

I had even begun looking forward to work more, as it was my only real social interaction during the week. Wick didn't come in nearly as much anymore. Being around each other was suddenly awkward. For the first time since I'd met him, I felt censored. I couldn't be open around him and tell him what I wanted to say:
Why her? Why not me?
But we both already knew the answer to those questions.

While Wick stayed away, another presence emerged. Much to my dismay, Darcy began making regular appearances during my shift. I tried to avoid any conversation with him besides inquiries into his beverage selection.

"I think that guy has a thing for you," Tara said one day, motioning to Darcy.

"Hardly," I replied. "He despises me. Although probably not as much as I detest him."

Tara smirked. "My, we certainly have strong feelings for someone, don't we? Are you sure you detest him, or is it something else?"

"Please."

"Well, he only sits down with his coffee when you're here. When you aren't, he leaves."

"Believe me, he's only doing it to punish me."

The punishment continued for another couple weeks. Finally, nearly a month after Charles's party, he caught up with me on my way home. He was with a guy in his late twenties.

Darcy and his friend joined me on the sidewalk. "Hi, Lizzie," Darcy said, as if we'd just happened to encounter each other. "We're heading over in your direction -- do you mind if we walk with you?"

"I'm Will Fitzpatrick," the guy said to me. "It's my ten-year reunion at Pemberley. I'm just visiting my little cousin before heading to our party."

"Hi," I replied. He had a friendly disposition, very opposite to Darcy.

"Fitz, this is Elizabeth Bennet," Darcy said, making the proper introduction.

"Please call me Fitz -- all my friends do. With two Wills in the family, it just made it easier for everybody to refer to us by our last names."

I smiled politely, although I wasn't really interested in why everybody called Darcy by that name, and not Will.

"I've heard a lot about you," Fitz said warmly.

"That's unfortunate," I replied. "I can assure you that I'm not nearly as awful as your cousin has made me out to be."

Fitz laughed. "Awful? Quite the opposite. He only has nice things to say."

"I'm afraid it is only Lizzie who has unkind words to say about me," Darcy added.

Fitz stopped in his tracks. "What exactly has my idiot cousin done to deserve that?" His smile was curious and friendly.

"I'm glad you asked; I've been wondering the same thing," Darcy replied drily.

"Well, how much time do you have before your party?" I responded.

"Oh, Darcy!" Fitz grabbed Darcy by the collar. "You have such a way with the ladies. Miss Bennet, on behalf of my family, my sincerest apologies for whatever offenses Sir Grumpsalot over here has bestowed upon you."

He reached out his hand and did a slight bow. I accepted
his hand with a laugh and nodded in acceptance of his kind gesture.

"Maybe I should skip the reunion and instead try to make amends. Come to think of it, there are a few former teachers that I wish to avoid." He winked at me.

Several girls from my dorm walked past with big, puffy garment bags.

"Oh, wow, I forgot that 'tis the season for prom insanity." Fitz shook his head. "Are you suffering from pre-prom pandemonium?"

"Absolutely not," I assured him.

"Good for you. Even some of Darcy's friends seem to have lost their minds. You had to talk one friend out of going with some real character, didn't you?"

Darcy's expression changed immediately.

I felt my blood begin to boil. I had assumed it was Caroline who was keeping Charles away from Jane. But it was Darcy.
Of course
it was Darcy.

"What's this?" I asked.

Darcy just brushed it away. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Yes, it was nothing to him. But it was
everything
to Jane.

"Oh!" Fitz glanced at his watch. "I must make my way to the
Headmaster's House. Lizzie, a pleasure." He shook my hand. "Cousin" -- he turned to Darcy -- "don't be an imbecile. Good families are dime-a-dozen, but a good woman is rare."

We watched him cross the quad toward Pemberley.

"I like him," I stated. Anybody who could give Darcy such a ribbing was all right in my book. I turned to head toward my dorm and was surprised when Darcy followed. "Is there something I can help you with?" I asked.

Darcy shook his head. "No, I just thought I'd walk you the rest of the way."

"Again, your concern for my well-being is so touching."

He replied with silence.

"So, how's Charles?"

He paused for a moment. "Charles is fine. He's been really busy."

"So I hear." I balled my fists up tightly. I even bit my tongue. Seeing Darcy on a regular basis was wearing my patience thin. And knowing that he was the cause of Jane's unhappiness made it almost unbearable.

"I work on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, as well as Sunday afternoons," I said.

He stared at me.

I continued. "We seem to be running into each other a lot lately, and I thought you'd like to know my hours. So you can avoid them, of course."

He nodded abruptly, then turned away. I didn't expect to see him in the cafe again.

O
NCE AGAIN, I WAS WRONG. INSTEAD OF AVOIDING ME, DARCY as there at every shift. Sometimes he would leave when I was done and walk me back. I found it easier to not fight it. It was a short walk, and most of the time he would mercifully walk with me in silence. If we talked, it was generally small talk about classes.

"So where's your boyfriend?" Tara asked me one night.

"Who? Wick? He's not my boyfriend." As if I needed to be reminded.

"You know that's not who I'm talking about."

"Darcy?" I scoffed. "Please, he's more like a ..."

"Stalker?"

I shook my head. "I believe stalkers have to generally care about their prey."

"Your bodyguard?"

"That would be ironic since he's the person I need protection from."

"Huh." Tara started to wipe down a counter.

"What?" I pried.

"You know what I find ironic?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

She looked up at me. "That you complain about him, yet you always look when the door opens toward closing time, like you're waiting for him."

"No I don't."

I had to think about it. Did I?

"So why do you let him?" she asked.

"Well, he wears shoes and a shirt, so I can't really deny him service."

"You know that's not what I mean. Why do you let him walk you home?"

"I don't know. At first, I didn't want to put up a fight. I didn't think it would become a habit. But nobody really tries anything
with me when he's around, and that's nice. I guess I've just gotten used to it."

The truth was: I could be myself on our walks. I didn't have to talk if I didn't want to. It wasn't like I had to pretend that everything in my life was great (like I have to with my parents). Or be on alert (like with the rest of my class). Or try to be supportive and upbeat (like with Jane).

With Darcy, I found that I could be me.

Occasionally, we'd talk about life back home. He'd ask me about my family or what I did over the weekend. But most of the time we walked in silence and it wasn't awkward. We had our own separate moments that we seemed to share in silence. It was natural, it wasn't forced, it was our own little routine.

Then, with two weeks until spring break, he broke the routine. Instead of letting me go off into my dorm without a good-bye of any sort, he took the moment of my departure to ask, "Can I speak to you?"

I shrugged. He'd had an opportunity to speak to me for the previous fifteen minutes, so I didn't see why now was any better a time. But he had a nervous look on his face, so curiosity got the best of me.

"Lizzie, Elizabeth ... I don't think I can keep this up any longer. I like you. I like you a lot."

I was so astonished, I couldn't speak.

He continued. "I find myself thinking about you constantly -- against my better judgment, I might add. I keep trying to reason with myself about why I'm so drawn to you. As much as I try, I can't seem to talk myself out of it. You're like no one else I've known ... and that has nothing to do with your upbringing. I mean, it's good and bad, I guess. Anyway, I would like to take you to prom."

My initial instinct was to be polite, like with Colin. But I was so offended and aggravated at his proposal that I was filled with nothing but resentment.

"Despite what you might think of my
upbringing,"
I began, trying to control the anger in my voice, "I was raised to be polite. I know I should thank you for your offer, but I won't. The very last thing I want in this world is for you to think anything of me, and there is no way I would ever go to prom with you."

Darcy struggled to retain his composure. "Are you serious? How could you say such a thing to me?"

"How could
I
say such things?" My voice was slowly rising. "How could you even for a second think I would be thrilled to hear that you like me
against your better judgment
... that you can't
talk yourself out of liking me?
You are so full of yourself. You can't even
ask a girl to prom without insulting her, and you're too daft to even realize it!"

Darcy's face burned red. He opened up his mouth to speak, but I continued.

"And I have every reason to despise you. Are you so vain that you didn't realize this? You cost my best friend's happiness with Charles."

Darcy's eyes grew wide.

"Don't even try to deny it. I know it was you. You, who walks around with this holier-than-thou air about you, dictating who should be with who. Jane is the most wonderful person I have ever met. Yes, her father is in between jobs and her sister is brash, but who are you to tell Charles who he can and cannot date?