Charles turned to his quiet friend, who had been peering around. "Darcy, come here and say hi to Jane and her friend Lizzie."
Darcy approached and gave Jane a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he turned toward me and his hazel eyes locked with mine.
"Hello," he said, shaking my hand and giving me a small, curious smile.
"Hello," I replied. I was slightly unnerved by his expression. He could have been judging me. Or he could have been making a slight overture toward acquaintance. Or he could have been plotting a way to throw me into the fountain outside.
He opened his mouth to say something else, then thought the better of it and decided to walk briskly away.
Charles laughed this off. "I don't think Darcy has recovered from the jet lag! Lizzie, it's really great to meet you, but would you mind if I take Jane away for a dance?"
Jet lag seemed to be the least likely reason for Darcy's rudeness, but Charles and Jane were so desperate to be in each other's arms on the dance floor that I could hardly prolong the conversation. As the two of them began to dance, I walked aimlessly around the cavernous hall trying to find Charlotte, my only other friend on campus. I weaved through conversations between my fellow classmates -- bragging about opulent holiday gifts, swapping tales of exotic destinations -- conversations I couldn't be a part of. After a few minutes, I gave up and went over to the refreshment table and began to fix myself a cup of tea.
"Looks like you just can't stay away from your work, huh?" Cat de Bourgh, daughter of an old Texas oil tycoon, said as she came up behind me. "My dad is just like that, except he runs a multibillion-dollar corporation. He doesn't consider brewing coffee a career."
Comments like this would just bounce off my shield. No, I didn't have a trust fund. In truth, I didn't really understand what a trust fund was, except that it made people act like jerks. I always found solace in the fact that I was genuinely more intelligent than the majority of my class, and that while they'd gotten in because of birthright, I'd made my way by talent alone.
After all, money can only buy you so much.
I turned around and smiled sweetly at her. "I'm guessing your daddy doesn't think saying things like 'venti half-caf, skinny latte' is too impressive, either. But if that makes you feel smart -- when really, you're just asking for a decaf coffee with skim milk -- who am I to judge?"
Cat picked up a discarded cup of coffee and smirked malevolently as she poured it onto my dress. "Oops," she said with a smile as she walked away.
My upper thighs began to burn from the still-hot liquid. I tried to not make any noise as I quickly grabbed napkins.
"Are you okay?" A hand was on my arm, and instinctually I pulled away.
It was Will Darcy.
"Oh, sorry," I said. "Yes, I'm wonderful. Great party ..."
I went to the corner to try to save Jane's dress. The last thing I needed was to go to the ladies' room. The bathroom was one of the most vulnerable places on campus, an easy trap. Just another lesson from my fine education last semester.
"Here." Darcy came over and handed me a napkin soaked in seltzer water.
"Thanks." I had to try to nonchalantly put my arm up my dress to wipe off my legs.
"I agree with you on this being a wonderful party." He leaned in. "I hate these things. Charles had to drag me."
"I guess that's something he and Jane have in common -- their powers of persuasion."
"And we, despite our better judgment, allow ourselves to be persuaded."
"Yeah, well, I guess the two of us have that one thing in common."
Darcy looked perplexed. "What makes you think we wouldn't have anything more in common?"
I let out a little laugh. I had forgotten that he didn't know about me ... and my situation.
Darcy turned his attention back to the matter of the ruined dress. "Is it coming out?"
I shook my head. While the dress was black, it had a delicate chiffon layer that was becoming crusty from the coffee.
"Jane is going to hate me," I said with a sigh.
Darcy was confused. "Why would Jane hate you?"
"This is her dress. I could never own a dress as nice as this. But maybe now she'll let me stay in my room once and for all instead of trying to turn the duckling into a swan with some borrowed feathers."
"Oh." Something had begun to register on Darcy's face. The amused look had been replaced with a slow understanding of what was going on. It irritated me that he seemed to be helpful and genuinely concerned for me ... until he found out about my deep, dark secret.
"Yeah, I'm a scholarship student."
Darcy grimaced at the word scholarship. It looked like the mere mention of us charity cases caused a migraine.
"I see," he replied. He gestured again to the coffee stain. "Well, good luck with that." Then he left as abruptly as he'd come.
I stood there with my hands full of dirty, coffee-soaked napkins. I shouldn't have been surprised that once he found out the truth about me he wouldn't want to be seen in my presence. I guess this was a reminder from the universe that nothing was going to be different this semester. I was who I was, and I should have considered myself lucky that there were at least a couple people who accepted me.
I headed toward the exit. I had tried to make an effort, and now my effort was done. It was best to not tempt fate any further.
"Well, hello, Elizabeth," a voice interrupted.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My evening certainly wasn't going to get any better.
"Hi, Colin," I replied.
Colin Williams was one of the few Pemberley students who would talk to me. At first I thought it was because he was a bigger person than his breeding dictated. (At least one member of his infamous family has had a seat in Congress for decades.) But soon I realized that Colins friendliness toward me was because he was quite possibly the most boring person in the world, and few other people could tolerate being in a conversation with him. Not surprisingly, nobody thought of giving me a heads-up before I got stuck in an hour-long discussion (although, can it be a discussion if only one person was doing the talking?) with him at the beginning of the year about the benefits of private education. (There were many, and he listed them all.) By the time he was through, he was as surprised as I was that I was still standing there. Ever since, he has sought me out at any social event our two schools have had.
"How were your holidays?" he asked me now.
"Fine. And yours?"
"Fabulous -- we went to our house in St. Bart's for Christmas. The weather there this time of year is most agreeable. The record low temperature is sixty-five-point-three degrees Fahrenheit, and we didn't come close to that. In fact, we were well above the average of sixty-nine-point-eight degrees Fahrenheit, which was a blessing, I tell you. A blessing." He brushed off a piece of lint from his tweed jacket. Colin not only dressed like he was thirty years older than his actual age, but he spoke like an elderly professor -- both in his choice of words and the amount of time it took him to get out a sentence. "I do enjoy getting out of the cold of Connecticut, where the average temperature for December hovers around forty degrees Fahrenheit. Which is better than the January average -- but still. Where did you spend Christmas?"
"Cranford."
He looked at me blankly.
"My grandmother lives in Cranford ... New Jersey."
"How quaint."
"Yes, quaint." I looked around, hoping to spot Jane so she could save me. But she and Charles were looking very cozy in the corner.
"How are you enjoying this reception?" Colin asked.
"To be honest --"
"I think the staff did a fantastic job decorating the hall. The lights are reminiscent of the ones we had inside our main foyer at our house in Boston. I don't think you can properly decorate for the holidays without white lights. They truly are beautiful in --"
"Colin!" I interrupted. (If I didn't, I was never going to be able to leave.) "I spilled coffee on my dress and really need to get home."
&nb
sp; "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. You know, the best thing for a stain is to soak it overnight in hot water. At least that's according to my former nanny, and let me tell you, she had certainly seen some stains in her day. My brothers and I never saw a mud field we didn't --"
"Colin, I've got to go." I didn't even wait for him to say goodbye. I hated being rude to him because he was always nice to me, but I was so miserable I didn't think I could handle another word from his mouth.
I was only a few yards away from the exit when I saw none other than Darcy standing there, looking at his watch. Before he could see me, I ducked behind a column, trying to figure if there was another way I could leave. As I did, I spied Charles coming over to talk with his friend, blocking any escape route I could've had.
"Darcy, isn't it great to be back?" I heard Charles say. "You have to admit this is a welcome sight, especially after four months in dreary London."
"Hardly," Darcy said drily. "I am starting to think that I should have stayed in London. Being back has been harder than I thought. I don't know why I let you drag me to this thing. The girls here are practically foaming at the mouth over prom. And here I was, under the impression that Longbourn girls had class. Silly me."
Charles laughed. "What are you talking about? You've clearly let all that English rain dampen your spirits. How could you say that about my sister ... and Jane? And what about Jane's friend Lizzie? You should ask her to dance."
Darcy groaned. "I don't think so. Did you know she's a scholarship student?" "So?"
There was a silent pause.
"Darcy, not every person ..."
"Are you so naive that you would think that the first person I would want to greet with open arms on campus is a scholarship student? Really, Charles? I went to London to get away from --"
A flurry of girls heading to the ladies' room blocked the view of my hiding place for a second, so I took the opportunity to walk away. I didn't want to hear another word. I stayed along the border of the hall until Will Darcy had left and the exit was clear. I couldn't believe that he had so much open hatred for the unrich. Silly me for thinking, even for that short moment while he was helping me, that he was any different from anyone else around here.
He was the same. They were all the same.
I was the only one who was different.
4.
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."
5.
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 di
dn'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?"