Prom and Prejudice

I closed my eyes and let the music take over. I felt moisture in my eyes from being overwhelmed by the setting, the music, the performer.

It was flawless. It was, in fact, so flawless that it didn't call attention to its own flawlessness. It was perfect.

The next piece was Chopin's Piano Concerto no. 2. Again, she took the entire audience of almost three thousand people on an emotional journey. I found, not surprisingly, that I had a smile on my face the entire time. Carnegie Hall was my equivalent of a candy store and I was on a sugar high.

After Chopin, there was an intermission. I was in awe of the entire performance. But when I looked and saw what was next, Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto no. 3, I was stu

We returned to our seats after the intermission and I was alarmed when I saw an usher waiting for us. "Miss Be

"Yes?" I had a feeling this was too good to be true. That my fairy tale of an afternoon was coming to an end and that we would be marked as frauds. You could take the girl out of Longbourn, but apparently not the sense of uncertainty.

"This note is for you." He handed me an envelope with my name scrawled on it. I opened it and found a letter inside that was on heavy, expensive, cream stock. I gasped when I saw CLAUDIA REYNOLDS engraved on the top with her address.

Dear Elizabeth,

I'm so happy you were able to come to the performance today. I've heard so much about you and I'd be honored if you and your guest would join me for high tea at my house following the concert.

Yours truly,

Claudia Reynolds

"Oh, my," Mom said as she read over my shoulder. "How on earth does she know who you are?"

"Mrs. Gardiner, I guess. I knew she had co

"Can we go, please? I know we have di

"Your father can starve as far as I'm concerned." Mom winked at me.

When Claudia Reynolds returned to the stage, I was even more mesmerized by her performance. The concentration she had while approaching the near-impossible runs was astonishing. I tried to keep track of her fingers, but they were flying. I wanted to absorb everything about her performance, to try to walk away with some understanding of how I was going to pull off the less difficult, but still challenging, Rhapsody.

When the last note faded, she received a well-deserved standing ovation.

I was in complete and utter awe. One of my idols was standing before me, after performing the most wonderful concert I had ever had the pleasure of attending. And she was inviting me to her house.

Thinking back on all the torture that I had endured at Longbourn, I knew at that moment that it had been worth it. That I could have more days with nasty taunts, but at the end of the day, I was a student that Mrs. Gardiner respected enough to give me this amazing moment. I may not have had the respect of many of the students, but they didn't matter. I was never going to earn any respect from the snobs, but to people who could see past such inconsequential things as money and status, I had the potential to be someone special.

After the concert, Mom and I walked slowly along Central Park to Claudia Reynolds's brownstone, which overlooked the park. My mind was spi

The biggest shock of the day, however, didn't turn out to be the invitation. There were many people I anticipated to see when the door opened -- servants, maids, Claudia Reynolds herself -- but the person who greeted us was the last person on earth I expected.

Will Darcy.

Twenty-Four

I STARED BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE NUMBER ON THE side of the brownstone and the invitation in my hand, trying to see how I could've gotten the address horribly wrong.

"Mrs. Be

My heart stopped. Will Darcy is Claudia Reynolds's son?

My mother shook Darcy's hand as she entered their main foyer. "Hi, Lizzie. Nice to see you," Darcy greeted me.

Mom was surprised. "Do you two know each other?"

"I go to Pemberley, Mrs. Be

Before Mom could say anything, Claudia Reynolds rushed to greet us. "Hello, Elizabeth! Mrs. Be

She hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. "Oh, Elizabeth, I have heard so much about you and your playing. And you must be Elizabeth's mother!"

"Please, call me Judy."

I couldn't find my voice. I was stu

Ms. Reynolds ... Mrs. Darcy ... Darcy's mom ... welcomed us into the living room where a tower of scones, finger sandwiches, brownies, and cookies was waiting for us. While my mother asked about a painting that hung over the fireplace, Darcy leaned in.

"I can't tell if you're mad or surprised," he whispered.

"I'm shocked."

He smiled at me. "Elizabeth Be

I looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in what felt like a long time. I noticed that there was something different about him. He was dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, his hair slightly messy. He seemed ... relaxed.

"Your mom ..." I tried to get out.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd take the tickets if you knew they were from me. The invitation here was my mom's idea. I couldn't bear to let her know --" He stopped abruptly. "I guess I didn't want her to know your opinion of me."

"Why didn't you ... the e-mail ... I tried to reply, I just ... I'm so sorry, I ..." I couldn't form a single thought. So much was racing through my mind. "Thank you for talking to Charles."

"It was the right thing to do. I should have done it sooner."

"Shall we?" Ms. Reynolds gestured for us to sit down. I looked around the living room and couldn't believe how comfortable it was. There were overstuffed couches and a chaise longue surrounding a glass coffee table. It was obvious everything was high-end, but it didn't scream pretentious or expensive, even though I was pretty sure the painting my mom was asking about was an original Pollock.

"Lizzie?" Mom prompted me. Apparently, Darcy wasn't the only one surprised by my silence.

I looked up and saw Claudia Reynolds smiling at me.

"Ms. Reynolds." I tried to find my voice. "I ca

She smiled at me. "Thank you, Lizzie. Can I call you Lizzie?"

I nodded. She could pretty much call me anything. I wouldn't even be offended if Claudia Reynolds called me a charity case, bum, or hobo.

"So, please, help yourself." She gestured toward the food in front of us. "Will, can you pour the tea, please? I would like to take credit for this, but our amazing cook is from England and makes the best scones and clotted cream. We only have it for special guests or the cream wouldn't be the only thing that is clotted in this house."