Текст книги "Prom and Prejudice"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Eulberg

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

Four

JANE SLOWLY OPENED THE DOOR AND FOUND ME FINISHING up my unpacking. "Lizzie, where did you run off to?" she asked. "Are you all right? I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry, Jane. I got coffee on your dress. Actually, Cat de Bourgh got coffee on your dress. Or, even more accurately, Cat wanted to get coffee on me, and your dress got in the way. However you look at it, I had a really bad night."

"Don't even worry about the dress."

"If dry cleaning doesn't fix it, I'm going to pay you back for it."

Jane sat on my bed. "Truly, I don't care about the dress. I care about you. Are you okay?"

I nodded. I didn't have the energy to tell her about Darcy. Plus, I was positive Jane's evening had been the opposite of mine. Her face was glowing.

"I'll be much better once you tell me all about what happened between you and Charles," I said.

The glow turned into a blaze. "It was amazing! We spent the entire evening together. He wanted to hear every detail about my holidays. He didn't even shy away about what happened with my dad. And ... he really wants us all to meet up soon."

"Us all?"

"Lizzie, I really want you to get to know Charles."

"I will admit, he seems like a good guy."

"He really is. Plus, Darcy is considered to be quite the catch...."

A laugh escaped my throat. "Darcy? I know you only see the good in people, but seriously, Jane. That guy is so full of himself. Plus, I overheard him telling Charles that he basically went away to London to get away from scholarship kids."

"Oh, Lizzie, stop it!"

"I'm telling the truth."

Jane patted my knee. "I'm sure you misunderstood whatever you heard."

"How can I misunderstand 'I went away because I'm a pompous jerk who can't be in the presence of anybody who doesn't have a trust fund'?"

Jane laughed. "Well, if he said that."

"Okay, I might be paraphrasing a little. I promise you this – I am more than willing to go out and get to know Charles. In fact, I look forward to it. But I make no promises when it comes to Will Darcy. Unless someone can promise me that I never have to see him again."

Five

I FOUND CHARLOTTE BEHIND A STACK OF TEXTBOOKS IN our common room the following morning.

"Whatever happened to no commoner left behind?" I threw my backpack down in the seat next to her.

Charlotte looked up from her book. "I'm so sorry. I had every intention of going, but the thought of a quiet evening in my room was just too irresistible." She surveyed the books around her. "I wanted to get a jump start on the reading for this semester, because ... well, you know ..."

I did know. Both Charlotte and I were on permanent probation. Charlotte was on an academic scholarship, so she couldn't get below a B average. And since I was on a music and academic scholarship, I wasn't allowed below a B-minus average. And I had to rehearse with Mrs. Gardiner every day, which was the only thing I looked forward to.

While we'd only had one concert so far, I was starting to get a reputation as one of the top music students in the school. Since Longbourn was a finishing school, it prided itself on its arts program: music, painting, dancing. Longbourn was a place where accomplished musicians could retire to Connecticut and make a luxurious salary teaching overprivileged girls. Mrs. Gardiner seemed to relish the fact that she finally had a student who wanted a challenge and could tackle difficult sonatas. But it also meant that, on top of studying, practicing, and working, there was little time left for anything else.

"Well, believe me," I assured Charlotte, "you didn't miss much." I conveyed the evening's events. "But," I concluded, "at least Jane's happy. They both seem smitten."

Charlotte smiled. "That's so great. What were people saying about prom?"

"Nobody said anything to me about prom. Of course, nobody said anything to me about anything else, either."

"Right. Well, I hope Jane gets asked to prom soon. Can you imagine anything more awful than wasting a semester on a guy and then having him not ask you to prom?"

"Charlotte, we're scholarship students. We've had way worse things happen to us. In the big scheme of things, going to prom for us is about as important as food stamps are to a Pemberley boy."

"Lizzie! Don't you want to go to prom?"

It seemed like such an easy question. But to me, it wasn't. Did I want to go to prom? Of course. I used to tear pictures of dresses out of Seventeen's prom issue when I was a little girl, imagining that I was simply one gown away from a fairy-tale evening. But that wasn't going to happen here. Because in my prom fantasy, I not only had a gorgeous dress, I had the perfect guy.

I looked at Charlotte, my partner in poverty. "I wish it were that simple," I told her.

I wished a lot of things were simple. But that wasn't my reality. In real life, I was a scholarship girl who was going to be late for her barely paying job if she didn't start moving.

Sunday afternoons at the Java Junction were always busy. Students from both Pemberley and Longbourn needed a caffeinated fix to cram in the studying they should've been doing all week. I wasn't sure what to expect on the first weekend back from break. But when I arrived, I found myself walking into a madhouse of students. I quickly tied my red apron around my waist and jumped behind the counter.

"Just in time." My coworker Tara looked flustered. "I'm surrounded by your kind."

Tara Hill was a student at the local high school, and constantly teased me for being one of them – in this case, the them being the elitists in line. I assured her that if I were truly one of them, I would hardly have been on the same side of the counter as her. And that would've been a loss. Because while I didn't really like having to serve the students from my school and from Pemberley, I enjoyed hanging out with Tara and the other "normal" people I worked with.

Not that we always had time to talk. I spent the next half hour steaming lattes, icing mochas, and trying to keep up.

"Can I help you?" I asked the next customer, who had turned around to stare out the window.

When he turned back to me, I was horrified to discover it was Darcy. He seemed just as perplexed to see me.

"You work here?" he asked, making it sound like he'd just walked into his bedroom to find me changing the sheets.

I looked down at my red Java Junction apron and tugged on my visor. "No, I thought this was a costume party. Silly me! But since I'm here, I thought that somebody's got to serve the coffee...."

He didn't even crack a smile. "Right. Well, I guess I'll have a large, black coffee. Although, please don't hurt yourself." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd enjoy that."

Darcy furrowed his brow and stammered a bit. "No, no, I just meant ... after your spill last night, you probably ... never mind."

I turned my back on him and grabbed him his coffee as quickly as possible without scalding myself.

"Here you go." I rang up his order.

He handed me a crisp twenty-dollar bill and started to walk away.

"Your change," I called after him.

He turned back around and smiled stiffly. "No, it's okay."

"Your change," I said louder, and held out his money in my hand.

"Lizzie!" Tara gasped.

Darcy hesitated and then came back over and took the money from me.

"Are you crazy?" Tara said as Darcy walked out the door. "That was a seventeen-dollar tip!"

I wasn't crazy.

I didn't want to fit in with whatever stereotype Darcy had about "my kind." Despite what he may have thought, my integrity wasn't for sale.

"You're back!" Jane jumped up from her desk when I walked into our room. "Guess what."

I took off my shoes and started to rub my feet. "Does this have anything to do with Mr. Bingley?"

"Yes! He invited us both to his family's ski cottage in Vermont next weekend!" Her voice was two octaves higher than normal.

"That's great news!"

Jane sat down next to me. "So you'll go? You'll switch your work schedule and everything?"

I had promised Jane that I would make an effort with Charles, and I knew I couldn't back down now. "Of course I'll go. Although I have to warn you – I don't ski."

"You don't have to ski. You can drink hot cocoa while you study, plus ... Charles did say that his family has a Steinway grand piano in their house, so you can even spend the weekend practicing."

I had to admit, that did sound like fun. "Sounds great!"

"Yay! You're going to love Charles. And honestly, Caroline and Darcy aren't as bad as you make them out to be."

I groaned. "Wait. They're going to be there, too?"

"Of course. I know you and Darcy got off on the wrong foot. I'm sure it's a simple misunderstanding."

I wanted to protest further, but the look on Jane's face was so hopeful, so expectant, that I just couldn't disappoint her. She had been beaming since Charles's arrival, and I didn't want to be the one to tarnish her glow.

"Okay, okay," I said, giving in.

I was doing this for Jane. Jane, who had done so much for me. Plus, I had every intention of spending the entire weekend locked in our room or chained to the piano.

I would go for Jane. I certainly wasn't going to get to know Darcy and Caroline better.

And I wasn't going to enjoy it.

Six

THE CARAVAN WAS LEAVING FOR VERMONT AT FIVE o'clock on Friday. I had to work a couple hours after class to make up for the shifts I was missing that weekend, and my replacement was late. Which meant I had to sprint the ten blocks from the Java Junction to meet up with everybody.

When I rounded the corner and saw Jane, Charles, Darcy, and Caroline waiting for me, I realized my cheeks were flushed and I was nearly out of breath.

Caroline tapped her watch impatiently and looked horrified when she saw me approach. "You must be joking," she said.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Despite the fact that she ignored me all week in class, I was positive my coming with them couldn't have been a surprise.

I approached them cautiously. Jane and Charles both looked happy to see me. "You're here!" Jane exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I tried to control my breathing. "Tara was late for her shift, so I had to run here."

"What on earth is on your face?" Caroline asked disgustedly.

"What?" I started wiping my hot, sweaty face.

Darcy was studying me, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

Jane laughed. "Oh, I think you have some chocolate...."

"What?" I continued to wipe my face.

"Here." Jane took out her compact from her purse and I was astonished, and a little embarrassed, to see a line of mocha sauce on my red, blotchy cheekbone. I was a complete mess.

Jane handed me a tissue and I did my best to improve matters.

Darcy let out a little laugh – I was sure he was enjoying this moment, and I enjoyed his company even less because of it. He went over to the backseat of Charles's SUV and opened the door. "After you." He gestured with his hand. I maneuvered into the backseat and took out my calculus notebook.

Jane sat up front with Charles, while Caroline cozied up to Darcy in the middle row of seats. I was hoping I could get through my calculus assignment during the two-hour drive. And since Caroline spent the entire time whispering disparaging comments about most of the girls at Longbourn, I was pretty much left alone. Every once in a while Jane tried to bring me into the conversation and I politely answered her questions. Darcy kept glancing back at me and my notebook, as if I needed his help with my assignment. I responded by shifting my notebook so it was out of his view.

I finished as the car began to slowly twist and turn through the mountains. I couldn't help gazing in awe as we passed huge log cabins and grand winter lodges. We turned onto a private road and drove for a few more miles. The towering trees and white snow encapsulated the car, making me feel so small and insignificant – a feeling that I had gotten used to the past few months.

The Bingleys' ski "cottage" was a large, three-story birch structure with panoramic picture windows overlooking the mountains. To the left we could see the ski trails – the massive, deathly looking ski trails. There was no way I was even thinking of attempting to ski this weekend. I had embarrassed myself enough already.

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.

Seven

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.