Music was our thing. We'd listen to albums together, I'd put on concerts just for her. And now I was able to take my mother to Carnegie Hall.
"Someday, Elizabeth, someday," she said to me as she squeezed my hands.
The lights went down and the orchestra members took their places, followed by the conductor. The spotlight lit up and Claudia Reynolds, beautiful in a black floor-length strapless dress, her hair up in a twist, approached the piano to an ovation from both the orchestra and the audience.
She graciously bowed before sitting down at the piano.
The orchestra started playing Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 24, K.491. The strings came in, followed by the wind instruments. As the music began to take over the space, I leaned forward in my seat, anticipating Reynolds's first notes at the piano. The piano melody, at first so simple, was beautiful. I could see Reynolds's eyes closed, her body swaying back and forth, her embrace of the music.
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 stunned. That was one of the most challenging piano solos and very different in tone from the previous two pieces.
We returned to our seats after the intermission and I was alarmed when I saw an usher waiting for us. "Miss Bennet?" he said as my mother and I approached our seats.
"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 connections, but I can't believe she would do this for me." I sank down in my plush seat. Claudia Reynolds knew who I was, and was inviting me to her house.
"Can we go, please? I know we have dinner plans with Dad." My voice was near hysterics.
"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.
Maybe I would even be one of the few who would get to experience what Claudia Reynolds was experiencing at that very moment. Standing center stage, being lauded for her talent -- because that was what should truly matter in this world. What you have to offer people, not what you can buy.
After the concert, Mom and I walked slowly along Central Park to Claudia Reynolds's brownstone, which overlooked the park. My mind was spinning with what I was going to say to her -- if I could even get anything out. I was still shocked by her invitation and felt a panic come over me as we approached the address on the card. My pulse was racing and my palms were sweating as we ascended the steps to the front door.
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.
24.
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. Bennet?" Darcy smiled warmly at my mother. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Will, Claudia's son."
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. Bennet."
Before Mom could say anything, Claudia Reynolds rushed to greet us. "Hello, Elizabeth! Mrs. Bennet! Welcome!"
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 stunned into absolute silence.
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 Bennet, could it possibly be that you're speechless?" He nudged me playfully.
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 cannot tell you enough how much meeting you means to me. You are truly a
mazing. The concert was, and will forever be, one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Thank you." I bit my lip to stop it from quivering.
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."
Darcy groaned. "You're never going to get tired of that joke, are you?"
"Never," she said as she grabbed a scone.
"Georgiana, there you are!" She got up and gave the girl who entered the room a big hug.
Darcy's sister gave us a little wave as she was introduced to us before sitting down next to her brother. She was so tiny and frail, I felt sick to my stomach thinking about Wick.
Darcy grabbed a plate and started filling it up for her. The admiration between the two was obvious. "Hmmm," he started teasing her. "Which one of these cups is for you? I don't see any black licorice tea here."
"Gross, Will," she said softly as she pushed his arm.
"Lizzie, do you see any ant stew near you for Georgie?"
"Will, stop it! I'm not five years old anymore." She giggled, and it was clear that she didn't mind being teased by her older brother.
"Okay, fine, have it your way. The adults will be drinking tea, but here you go." He picked up a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream. "I don't know. Looks pretty gross to me, but whatever."
She took the cup and sat back on the couch, her feet barely grazing the floor. She was the same age as Lydia, but unlike Lydia (well, there was a lot about Georgiana that was different from Lydia), she didn't try to come across as older. She seemed a lot younger, more vulnerable. I noticed throughout the evening that she kept studying me, although it was a very different look than the judging glances I would get from Caroline. Georgiana was more curious. I wondered what, if anything, Darcy had told her about me.
The thought of my treatment toward Darcy made me feel incredibly guilty during the tea, especially since his family was so warm and welcoming.
I hardly spoke, just observed, and kept trying to put all the pieces of this puzzle together.
Ms. Reynolds turned her attention to me. "So, Lizzie, what are you performing for the year-end recital?"
"Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini."
"Impressive," she replied. "I didn't tackle that until I went to college. I'd love to hear you play." She nodded to the Steinway that was near the front window.
"Oh, well, I'm having some problems with the runs."
She nodded knowingly. "The last variation?"
"Yes."
"That's a tough one. The sheet music that I learned it on had the most ridiculous fingering recommendations. I guess it could be considered helpful, if you have six-fingered hands. Here, I'll show you a trick." She got up and motioned for me to join her at the piano.
I was in a near trance as I walked over to the bench.
"What I figured out is that if you cross over at this point" -- she played part of the run -- "it lets your fingers easily move up." She did it once slowly so I could see, and then again at full speed.
She got up so I could try. I tried to not be too intimidated as she stood behind me and I tried her method. It worked. It worked so well that for the first time I was able to do the entire run without my fingers running into themselves.
"Thank you!" I hesitated for a second and then did it again to make sure it wasn't a fluke.
"May we hear what you have so far? That's one of my favorite pieces."
Claudia Reynolds was asking me to play for her. Claudia Reynolds, who had just performed at Carnegie Hall. Claudia Reynolds, who had just taught me how to do a flawless run.
Claudia Reynolds, who was Will Darcy's mother.
The only thing that made sense to me was Rachmaninoff.
I gently ran my fingers over the keyboard, going over the piece in my mind. Then I began. I hadn't played the piece for anybody except Mrs. Gardiner. I generally got nervous performing new pieces for people. I would always start with my mom, then my dad, then my friends. But this time I dove in headfirst.
I don't even know if I breathed for the entire piece. I completely expected to forget a section or stumble, but I didn't. I hadn't even played all the different variations back-to-back yet, but there I was, in Claudia Reynolds's house ... in Darcy's house, playing.
When I finished, I looked up and was somewhat startled to find Darcy standing right next to the piano with Georgiana.
I blushed, embarrassed that I would be seen as showing off.
The group applauded and I saw that my mother had tears running down her face. "I'm so proud of you," she sobbed.
Darcy's mom came over and gave me a hug. "That was brilliant."
"Because of you. I can't thank you enough for everything, really," I blubbered.
"Will and Georgiana, do either of you play?" Mom asked.
Will shook his head. "I tried, but I wasn't that good at it. I apparently didn't inherit the musical genius gene. But Georgie, on the other hand." Georgianas face reddened. "She can sing and play both the piano and the flute."
"I'd love to hear you," I said.
She replied softly, "I'll play the flute," and then went running upstairs.
"Wow." Darcy looked at his mom.
Ms. Reynolds was beaming. "She must really like you; she generally won't play for new people."
Georgie came down and treated us to a mini-concert of a few Mozart and Bach solos. Her cheeks were ruddy from the attention, but she was magnificent. I caught glimpses of Darcy watching. He was clearly proud of her. I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to have one of his supposed closest friends try to take advantage of her.
After Georgie's concert and kind words from the group, Ms. Reynolds gave us a tour. "I'm so sorry Will Senior couldn't be here today. He's traveling on business. We made a pact that at least one of us had to be home at all times."
Their house was large, and not just by Manhattan standards. It was five stories, complete with a screening room, library, music room, billiards room, and a rooftop pool. It wasn't ostentatious, it was roomy and comfortable. Exactly the opposite of what I would have pictured Darcy's home to be like.
The place was filled with pictures of the four of them on vacation. There was a particularly embarrassing one of Darcy on a sailboat when he was twelve.
"Oh, wow," I said as I took in a photo of a young sunburned Darcy with metal braces and a baseball hat with droopy dog ears holding a fishing rod with a very tiny fish attached at the hook. "Don't they make clear braces? I thought metal ones were just for charity cases."
"Yes, well, I was told it would build character. Apparently not. As I'm sure you can imagine, this is my least-favorite part of the tour." We both laughed, and it startled me how friendly we were both being. That it didn't feel forced. Like during our walks ... before he decided to talk.
I smiled at him. The reason it wasn't forced was because I was being normal. I'd found the door in his wall, and was just now opening mine. I had so much to say to him, so much to apologize for.
I kept thinking back on everything that I had said about him, all those horrible things I'd thought. And here he surprised me by giving me tickets to see his mom and opened his house to us. I didn't know what I did to deserve such thoughtful treatment from someone whom I had so openly loathed.
While our mothers were discussing having their children away at school, Darcy motioned for me to join him on the roof. The view of the park and east side of Manhattan was amazing.
"So, I have a favor to ask you," he said to me.
Immediately, the prom sprang to mind. He was going to ask me ag
ain, but this time, I wasn't sure what my answer would be.
He nervously drummed his fingers against the banister. "Georgie really seems to like you -- I guess it's a Darcy trait. She wants to come visit you in Hoboken, since she's never been, if that would be all right with you." He looked down at the street.
"Of course."
He turned his back on the view and looked at me. "I guess I should have told you who my mother was."
I shook my head. "It's okay, I don't know ..." I stopped myself from finishing that sentence. What I was going to say was I didn't know if that would've made a difference. If I'd liked Darcy solely because of his mother, I wouldn't have been any different from the snobs at Longbourn who didn't like me because my parents weren't famous, or rich, or from a "proper upbringing."
"Yes, well." He clearly was aware of what I was going to say. "To be honest, you're probably the only person who would have cared. My father's law practice seems to be what most people want to ..." This time he was the one to stop himself.
"I'm really sorry about that," I offered.
"Well ..." His voice trailed off into the night.
"And I'm sorry that I didn't respond to your e-mail. I tried to, but I guess I didn't know what to say. I'm not entirely proud of my behavior. And I ..." Something hit me, and I felt like an idiot for not figuring it out before. I looked at Will. "You gave me the coat." It wasn't a question. It was a revelation. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Would you have kept it if I had?"
I felt like the worst person on earth. "I ..."
He looked out at the park. "I didn't want to believe what you said about how you were treated at Longbourn. But after our conversation in the bookstore, I started paying attention. It seems ridiculous that it wasn't something that I'd noticed before. I'd genuinely thought Cat accidentally spilled her coffee on you. I guess it's easy to ignore something you don't have to experience. And when I truly looked, I was so horrified to see what you went through. And when your coat was stolen ... well, I wanted to do something to help, but knew you wouldn't accept it."