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.