I cared about Darcy.

Although he already made it clear to me that he had no intention of making the same mistake twice. I was that mistake.

At least, in those two seconds, I thought I was.

"Lizzie," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Prom is a stupid, inconsequential event. In the past few weeks, I've seen friends ask girls to prom who they don't even like. Why? So they can have a date. It's a silly tradition that I have no desire to take you to."

I nodded at him. Trying, for the second time this evening, to fight back tears. But these were a different kind of tears than earlier. My heart was starting to tear in two.

Darcy picked up my hand. "You are far too important and special to me to take to such an uninspiring event."

I looked up at him. He smiled at me and bent down on one knee. "Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the great honor of not going to prom with me?"

I stared blankly at him for a few seconds. Then I took him in, kneeling before me, giving me the best proposal of all. I couldn't help but laugh at his wonderful gesture. "Yes, I will."

"Will you instead avoid prom with me and let me take you on a date?"

"Yes."

He stood up and put his arms around me. "You have no idea how much agony I have been in these last few weeks."

I pulled away. "Why?"

Darcy sighed. "You seem to forget who my mother is. I knew better than to even approach you with anything while you were getting ready for the concert. Especially knowing that you have a pretty ferocious right hook."

The realization that Darcy wasn't ignoring me because of any ill feelings was a huge relief.

"And your absence from the Junction?"

He bit his lower lip and curled his arm around my waist. "I'm sorry to inform you that I have your shifts on my calendar and I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Thanks for the warning." I placed my head against his chest.

"Oh, and one more thing I should warn you about." I was so comfortable; I nuzzled my head into his shoulder for him to continue. "I'm going to take you to a very casual, very non-Pemberley place for our date. There will be no crystal, no foie anything, and, more important, no crazy prom parties. Just you, me, and some delicious Italian food."

"Sounds perfect."

Thirty-Two

PROM NIGHT ARRIVED. JANE SPENT MOST OF THE DAY GETTING a spray tan, manicure, pedicure, and her hair done.

"Are you sure you don't want to borrow anything for tonight?" she offered.

I looked down at my generic jeans and V-necked top and shook my head. "No, I'm good."

I helped Jane with her dress, a beautiful, red strapless gown. We went into the common room and I volunteered to take pictures for everybody before the media arrived. Charlotte was equally gorgeous in her cream, beaded spaghetti-strap floor-length gown.

Everybody looked stunning (even Caroline, who was going with a guy from the city). Every hair was sprayed into place, every nail filed to perfection, everything done to the standard of a proper Longbourn lady.

I wished them all a good evening and headed down the long staircase. Below me were dozens of Pemberley guys decked out in tuxes, corsages in hand. I'm sure my common appearance was the last thing they were expecting to see, but they weren't who I was looking for.

Darcy stepped forward among the crowd -- he stuck out like a sore thumb with his jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. He bowed down to greet me and we both laughed.

He held my hand as we got into a taxi. As we drove away, I thought about all the girls who were going to prom tonight. They may have been happy with their fake eyelashes and hair extensions. But that wasn't what I wanted.

What Darcy and I had was better than any prom or custom couture dress.

Because what we had was real.

Acknowledgments

EVEN THOUGH MY NAME APPEARS ON THE COVER, THERE ARE so many people responsible for this book in your hands.

I'm so lucky to have one of the best editors in the business, David Levithan. Thank you for your constant support of my writing. I don't know how you do all that you do. You are truly an inspiration, my friend. Although I'm still not entirely convinced that you are human.

Jodi Reamer, my fearless agent, was in my corner years before I was even published. Thank you for staying with me and still talking to me even after reading all those awful drafts.

Bushels of gratitude to everybody at Scholastic, especially: Erin Black for revisiting Miss Austen with me, Elizabeth B. Parisi for a fabulous cover design, Susan Jeffers Casel for your copyediting brilliance, Sheila Marie Everett for not taking it personally when I bust out laughing when I introduce her as my publicist, Leslie Garych, Tracy van Straaten, Julie Amitie, Emily Sharpe, and all of the sales reps for their constant enthusiasm.

I bow down to Bethany Strout and Jennifer Leonard for once again giving me such thoughtful reader's comments. I really appreciate you both taking the time to help me with this story. I can pretty much guarantee that I'll be bugging you both again. This is what you get for being so good!

I would be lost without Kirk Benshoff (Violet's Dad) and his amazing website design and tech expertise. Seriously, I'd be curled up under my desk if it weren't for you! I'm also lucky to have a great friend and blog proofreader in Natalie Thrasher.

I'm grateful to have such a wonderful support system of friends and family who understand when Author Elizabeth goes into hiding to write. I'd especially like to thank Stephenie Meyer for being so enthusiastic for my writer life and having that conversation about Pride and Prejudice that led me to the idea for this book.

To all the booksellers, librarians, and bloggers who have supported me as an author -- I know how many books are out there and I'm truly honored when anybody picks mine up. Thank you for giving me a chance.

And of course there's Jane, the lovely Miss Austen. No one could ever touch what you have created. Prom and Prejudice is simply my attempt to pay homage to your brilliant work and to celebrate you as what you will forever be known as -- one of the greatest authors of all time.

About the Author

Elizabeth Eulberg was born and raised in Wisconsin before heading off to college in Syracuse and making a career in the New York City book biz. As the author of The Lonely Hearts Club, she tried swearing off boys, but it didn't work. She lives outside of Manhattan with her three guitars, two keyboards, and one drumstick, and online at www.elizabetheulberg.com.