Prom and Prejudice (4 page)

After we grabbed our bags from the car, Charles gave us the grand tour of the house. There was only one room I was at all
interested in: the living room that contained a beautiful Steinway grand piano. Seeing such beauty, any hesitation I had about the weekend quickly went away. Let everyone else ski -- I'd have music.

Charles guided us upstairs. His room and the two guest rooms (Darcy in one, Jane and me in the other) were on the second floor, with Caroline's on the third floor near the master bedroom. Jane went downstairs with Charles while I spent way more time than was necessary unpacking. I was examining the list of homework I wanted to get done when there was a knock at the door.

"Hi." Charles stuck his head in. "I'm so glad you're here with us this weekend." His smile was very welcoming. Jane seemed to have indeed found the one nice guy in all of Pemberley. "We're getting ready to eat dinner and I was hoping you would come down and join us."

"Oh ..." I hadn't realized how much I was dawdling. It was pretty late and I was starving.

As we headed downstairs, Charles looked up at me. "I heard that you're quite an accomplished pianist. I was hoping you could play for us tonight."

"Oh, I don't know...."

We arrived in the living room where Caroline, Darcy, and Jane were sitting on the couch. Caroline had nestled herself well into
Darcy's side, while Jane seemed completely oblivious to their flirtation. I went over to the piano and started to run my fingers over the keys.

Some girls dreamed of jewelry from Tiffany or shoes from Jimmy Choo. I, on the other hand, had always dreamed of one day having a Steinway of my own. At home, we had a standard upright that was always in desperate need of tuning. When I played on that piano, it was like trying to use a ballpoint pen to paint the
Mona Lisa.
With a Steinway, it was like I had all the materials I needed. The rest was up to me. It was a challenge on an even playing field. It didn't matter if I had money or not, what mattered was talent.

"Who plays?" I asked, almost to myself.

"My mom used to take lessons," Charles said.

I let out a frustrated sigh. It killed me that such a beautiful instrument wasn't being used. It was more for decoration than for playing.

"Anyway," Charles continued, "Henry has made his famous barbecue chicken with wild rice. You must be starving."

I couldn't look away from the shining ivory keys. I just nodded.

"Who's Henry?" I asked.

"He oversees our house when we're away. And he's one of the finest cooks in the Northeast."

An older gentleman entered from the kitchen and started putting food down on the adjacent dining room table. I wasn't particularly surprised. The Bingleys' parents knew better than to leave their children unattended for the weekend, and I was somewhat grateful to have someone I could sort of relate to.

"Dinner should be just a few more minutes," Henry said before retiring back to the kitchen.

Charles tapped on the piano. "Lizzie, why don't you play something for us before we eat?" He pulled out the bench for me. "It would be nice to have some music in the house."

"Lizzie's amazing!" Jane encouraged me.

I hesitated. I was hungry to play, to do the one thing that I always felt comfortable doing. I felt alive, like I belonged, when I played. I sat down and kept running my fingers lightly over the keys. I tried out a few chords and they rang gloriously through the large room.

Before I could stop myself, I erupted into the first movement of Bartok's Piano Concerto no. 2. My fingers began flying with urgency as the music unspooled from within me. I instantly eased up from the tension of the trip, letting out all my frustration at the keys.

For nearly nine minutes, I was alone. It was just me, the Steinway, and my playing. I rocked back and forth on the bench
as my fingers tried to keep up with the challenge that Bartok had laid down. In my head I could hear the accompanying strings and percussion section. At the end of the first movement, my fingers flew up the keys one last time before finishing with a flourish.

I was slightly out of breath at the end, my cheeks flushed from the adrenaline of performing, and my mind blessedly clear.

"Bravo!" Jane cheered.

"That was brilliant!" Charles's eyes were wide. He kept looking from me to the piano.

"That was loud," Caroline replied from the couch. She looked bored.

Charles came over and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Lizzie, I don't think our piano could stand to be played by anyone else after that."

Caroline got up from the couch. "Is it time for dinner, or are we going to have to listen to more pounding? I already have a headache from the drive."

Darcy laughed. "I guess Bartok's not for everybody."

"You knew that was Bartok?" I was surprised.

He shrugged. "I pay attention in music class."

"Please," Charles began to say, "it's more like --"

Darcy shot Charles a look, which made it clear that he didn't want him to continue.

Caroline sat down at the table. "Well, I guess we know that all it takes for somebody to get a scholarship at Longbourn is the ability to make a lot of noise."

Jane came up to me and whispered, "Don't listen to Caroline. She 's just jealous. I don't think she likes the way Darcy is looking at you."

"What? She wants to be looked at with absolute contempt?" I whispered back.

"Lizzie!"

"I'm just saying ..."

We sat down at the dining room table and began to dive into Henry's wonderful meal.

"Are you sure we can't convince you to go skiing with us tomorrow?" Charles asked me. "I'm sure Darcy wouldn't mind giving you some pointers."

"Of course," Darcy said, unenthused.

"Oh, thanks. But I have this thing against bodily harm."

Charles laughed. "I'm sure you'd be fine."

"I appreciate your confidence in me. Unfortunately, I'm more comfortable at a piano than in the snow."

"Well, if you are even one percent as good a skier as you are a pianist, you'd no doubt ski circles around us. But I understand.
Henry will take good care of you tomorrow. I really want you to make yourself at home here. Consider yourself family."

I ignored Caroline's snort. Charles was so genuine and had such a positive attitude, I wished more people were like him. The world, I imagined, would be a better place with more Charles Bingleys than Caroline Bingleys ... or even Will Darcys.

I
WENT DOWNSTAIRS THE FOLLOWING MORNING TO FIND everybody at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and eating an amazing spread that Henry had prepared.

"Good morning," Charles greeted me. "How did you sleep?"

"Great, thanks!" I helped myself to a bagel. "Charles, is there a bookstore in town? I forgot to pick up a copy of
The Canterbury Tales
before I left and I need to work on my assignment for English. I thought I could walk into town while you guys went skiing." I walked over to the closet to grab my coat.

Darcy got up. "Don't be silly -- I'll drive you."

"No, it's okay."

He ignored me and grabbed his coat.

"Don't you have skiing to do?" I asked.

"The slopes aren't going anywhere," he replied as he opened up the front door.

It was bright out from the sun glistening off the snow. We walked over to the car in silence, the only noise coming from the fresh snow crunching under our feet. Darcy went over to the passenger side and opened the door. I stopped in my tracks.

"I thought you said you were driving."

He looked perplexed. "I'm just opening the door for you." "Oh."

I felt stupid that such a simple, chivalrous gesture could set off my defenses. I got into the car without saying another word.

We began to listen to the ski report on the radio on the short drive into town.

Darcy turned down the volume. "Today is a great day for skiing, are you sure we can't persuade you to join us? It really is fun."

"No, thanks," I said as I looked out at the snow-covered mountains. "I don't think anybody would consider a visit to the emergency room fun."

Darcy let out a small laugh. "Okay, that seems fair enough. But I can't help but wonder why you would come all this way to a ski weekend if you have no intention of skiing."

"Oh, well, that's easy. For Jane. It's the least I owe her."

Darcy quickly glanced at me. "The dress?"

"No, it's more than that. Jane is everything to me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her, so coming along for a weekend is the very least I could do."

Darcy was silent for a few moments. "But haven't you only known her for a semester?"

"Yes, but we've been through so much ..." I paused. "I don't think I could have survived my first semester without her." My voice was quiet, barely a whisper. "I never realized what a luxury kindness could be."

I didn't know why I felt the need to confess that to Darcy. Maybe it was my way to talk Jane up to Charles's good friend. Or maybe I was tired of people only seeing me one way.

I turned fully toward the window as we arrived downtown, hoping Darcy wouldn't press further.

The two blocks of town were filled with chic boutiques, organic food stores, coffee shops, restaurants, and, fortunately, a small bookstore.

Darcy pulled over and we went inside.

"Over here," Darcy said, leading me to the classic literature shelf. "I needed a copy of
Twelfth Night
last year." He scanned the shelf and found
The Canterbury Tales.
"Here it is." He looked satisfied and headed to the register, where he pulled a black card out from his wallet.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

He didn't get it. "Did you want to get something else?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't understand why you have your credit card out. You're not paying for my book."

As I began to move to the cashier line, Darcy stood frozen. I glanced back at him.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I replied coldly.

"You seem to have a problem not only with me, but everybody else at Longbourn and Pemberley, for that matter."

My mouth dropped open.
"I'm
the one who has a problem? If I thought you were capable of having a sense of humor, I'd think you were joking."

"I'm offering to buy your book and instead of saying thank you, you insult me. Why don't you let me pay for it? It really isn't a big deal to me."

I grabbed the book out of his hand. "Oh, and it's a big deal to me?"

He crossed his arms. "There is really no reason to be difficult about this."

"I'm not making anything difficult. I'm buying something for class. I don't need to take a loan out to buy a paperback."

"I don't think that's what this is about."

"Oh, really?" I said. Darcy had only known me for a few days, we'd barely had a conversation, and here he thought he'd figured me out. "Well, at least I don't have to hide behind my money. I've earned everything I have."

"You don't know the first thing about me."

I tried to keep my voice down. "And you think you know about me? Tell me, Will, have you ever had a job? Have you ever had to do chores around your house -- oh, I'm sorry,
mansion?
"

He looked down at the floor.

"Thought not. You know what? When I was growing up, I always wished that my family was rich. I imagined not having to save up to buy things. I dreamed that it wasn't such a struggle for my parents to pay for my music lessons. But it was. And when I came to Longbourn and was treated like dirt and met people who were more vile and self-important than I thought people could be, I was grateful that I was born middle class. That I haven't had
everything handed to me. Because having to work for things makes you a better person."

Darcy clenched his jaw. "You're certainly a harsh critic. Did you maybe even try to get to know us before you began judging?"

"When?" My voice cracked unexpectedly. "When there were food stamps shoved in my mailbox? When I had to scrub off the 'Hobos not wanted' that was scribbled all over my door? When people were throwing things
in my face
during my first week? Tell me, have you ever had a milk shake thrown in your face?"

Darcy looked embarrassed. He had no idea what I'd been through. And now here he was, the King of the Elites, telling me that
I
was misjudging
them.

I went on. "Please tell me at what point between the taunting and humiliation during my first few
months
was I supposed to get to know people better?"

"I didn't --"

"Of course you didn't.
That's
my point."

I walked up to the counter and tried to not feel self-conscious when I had to flatten my dollar bills wrinkled from the Junction tip jar in order to pay. Once the purchase was complete, I walked back to the car without even looking at Darcy. I grabbed the handle before he could open the door for me.

"In case I haven't made myself clear," I said, once he'd caught up, "I want you to know that I have absolutely no interest in you or your money." I got in the car and slammed the door shut.

We drove back in silence. I ran up to my room as soon as we got back to the cabin. I didn't relax until I heard everyone else leave for the slopes.

D
ESPITE THE ROCKY MORNING, I ENDED UP HAVING A GREAT day at the Bingleys' ski house. I got caught up on all my homework, even managing to read ahead in a couple classes, and gave Henry a mini-concert on the Steinway.

I was on my second cup of Henry's amazing hot chocolate when everyone else returned from their afternoon on the slopes.

Caroline entered with Darcy, laughing and talking his ear off. I picked up my English anthology book and decided I could get even further in my reading.

"Hey, Lizzie, how was your day?" Charles asked the second he and Jane entered. He brushed off the snow from his jacket and helped steady Jane as she removed her boots. Their cheeks were bright red from the cold.