by Jessica Daw
She smiled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t be their friend just for that.”
“I know it! But I would encourage you to befriend them just for that, and so consider yourself encouraged.”
In the morning, Charlotte came to visit, as she did every Saturday morning to help Jane and I make our weekly hot breakfast. Mom was up early and came into the kitchen as soon as I finished telling Charlotte what Will Darcy had said.
“Hello, Charlotte! I think all of Meryton has decided that Will Darcy is unbearably stuck-up, don’t you?” Mom asked.
“I think they may have,” Charlotte said, amused.
“As soon as I saw him I knew he’d be stuck-up. Admittedly he’s a very handsome young man—”
“Dang straight,” I murmured, my mouth quirking in a smile that Charlotte answered.
“—but he’s not nearly as nice as Cade, even if Deborah Long is right and Will Darcy is richer than the Queen of England and Cade is only averagely rich.”
“Did she say he was richer than the queen? I thought he was just numbered in the top five hundred richest people in England,” Charlotte interrupted.
“No, I distinctly remember her mentioning the queen,” Mom said petulantly.
“I suppose we’ll never know,” I said sadly.
Lydia, holding up her phone, proudly read us both Cade and Will’s net worth, the former of which was impressive, but the latter of which made me whistle and shake my head. “What do you even do with that much money?” I asked.
“I can think of a few things,” Lydia said with a wide smile.
“I’m sure you can,” a pajama-clad Mary, who’d walked in shortly after Lydia, grumbled.
“Where’s Kitty?” Charlotte asked.
“Oh, who knows?” Mom said. “And I remembered what else Deborah Long said. She told me she was sitting at the same table as Will Darcy for at least twenty minutes and he didn’t say a word to her, except when she asked him what he thought of the house Cade bought, and she said that he looked irritated at having to answer her and didn’t say anything other than it was a good house.”
“It is undeniable. He is unpleasant,” I announced.
“I can hardly blame him,” Charlotte said. I raised my eyebrows at her. “Only imagine, Lilly, if you were him. He’s unreasonably attractive, extremely wealthy, and incredibly talented. If anyone does, he has a right to be a proud sort of person.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I admitted reluctantly, “but he insulted me, so I’ll have to keep calling him stuck-up and unbearable.”
“Most people are proud,” Mary said in her preaching voice. She showed every signs of launching a lecture when Lydia interrupted by saying, “And you among them!”
“Maybe,” Mary conceded with a very saintly air, “but I am not vain, and there is an important difference. Pride is about your opinion of yourself, and vanity is about what you want the world’s opinion of you to be.”
“Whatever,” Lydia said dismissively. “I think they’re the same. Mom, Dad took my fake ID last week.”
“He did? Why didn’t you say anything? Every young girl should have some fun.” She and Lydia left to solve that problem, and thus ended the discussion of Cade Bingley and Will Darcy.
They didn’t come up again until Monday morning, around eleven, when Dad called me at work.
“Dad? It’s not time for my break yet,” I said, answering even though I was at work because Dad only called when it was important.
“I know, Lilly,” he said amiably.
“And you never call. Ever.”
“Very true.”
He didn’t speak.
“Well? Why’d you call?” I asked.
“Cade Bingley wants to meet with you girls this evening,” he said.
I drew a sharp breath. “Oh? What time?”
He laughed. “I hope he likes you too. Eight o’clock.”
“Eight o’clock,” I repeated, suddenly nervous like I hadn’t been since I’d auditioned for the school musical in fifth grade.
“You’ll do very well,” he said in a rare reassurance.
I laughed a little. “Do I sound that bad?”
“Yes,” he said frankly. “But you don’t need to worry. You girls—even your younger sisters—are talented enough to surpass anyone’s expectations.”
I sighed. “I hope so. I gotta go. Thanks for calling.”
As per usual, he hung up without saying goodbye. I looked bemusedly at my phone before putting it away. “Eight o’clock,” I repeated thoughtfully, then took a deep breath.
At 7:55 that evening, waiting in the studio, I was having a much harder time taking deep breaths, but less because of nerves and more because my younger sisters were driving me to the edge of violence.
“Do you think he’ll be late? I think he may be late,” Kitty was saying for the tenth time.
“He won’t be late,” Lydia snapped, a scowl on her elfin face.
And so it went until 8:09, when the man himself knocked on the studio door. I had done my best to ban Mom from the meeting, but all my reasoning had proved inadequate, and so it was that she was present to shriek and run to the door, opening it and immediately assaulting the newcomer with chatter. Or rather, as I saw belatedly, newcomers, in the plural. Cade had brought the notorious Will Darcy along.
Dad, with mastery rarely utilized, silenced Mom and ushered Cade into our second home.
“Hi, thanks for letting us come,” Cade said, smiling particularly at Jane.
“Of course,” she said, the faintest of flushes making her eyes sparkle.
“Oh, I brought Will. He’ll be helping us put everything together, since he’s doing the score for the film.”
“We’re glad to have you,” Mom said stiffly. Will didn’t reply, managing to look both bored and scornful.
“Anyway,” I interjected before Mom could make things worse, “what do you want to hear?” Technically, Dad was our manager, but I usually led during face-to-face interactions.
“I’ve listened to most of the stuff on your website. Honestly, my mind’s pretty much made up already, but I wanted to see how you are live.”
At hearing that, my blood erupted through my veins and it was all I could do not to jump up and down, shouting and crying. His mind already made up? “Oh,” I managed after a moment. I figured most of what I was thinking was visible. I wasn’t exactly what one would call stoic. Cade looked away from Jane long enough to grin at me. “I guess—do you want to hear our latest song?” I asked, my tongue feeling clumsy.
“That’d be good,” Cade said amiably, settling on a stool and waiting expectantly. Will continued standing maybe two steps from the doorway, arms folded, face impassive. I read a challenge and immediately was determined to rise to it.
“Shall we?” I said to my sisters. Everyone got ready, and we began. In our new song, I sang and played the guitar, which required more concentration than just playing, but I’d practiced enough that I wasn’t worried. Cade’s kind words had worked wonders on my nerves, and playing music . . . it was in my blood.
After I’d hit my stride, I looked up from my music and saw Will staring at me. I thought about what he saw—deep brown, resistant-to-taming hair, a 5’7” frame with what I thought was a pretty good figure, what I knew to be a strong jaw, a fairly average nose and mouth, straight teeth, dramatic eyebrows, and black-lashed dark eyes. I was pretty enough, sure, but I wasn’t quite vain enough to believe that he was staring because of that. I mean, I’d heard what he said about me, and knew he definitely wasn’t attracted to me. Taking in the set of his mouth, I decided he thought something was wrong with me, but he didn’t know me well enough to be right, and therefore must simply be disagreeable. Satisfied with my conclusion, I looked away and forgot Will Darcy.
We finished and Cade applauded us energetically, saying he knew his instinct had been good. He launched into a convoluted description of what he wanted. I would’ve been completely at sea despite my years of training i
f Will hadn’t stepped in and concisely described what his friend meant. I grudgingly consented to him being intelligent, and then had to laugh at myself for ever thinking such a brilliant composer could be anything but, well, brilliant, no matter how unpleasant he may be.
“We’ll need a week or two to work something up,” I told them when the explaining ended. “Will that be okay?”
“Sure, let us know when you want to meet and we’ll bring it all together,” Cade said easily.
“Hey, do you need us anymore? We’ve already missed half of our show,” Lydia said, addressing me. I looked at Cade, who shrugged.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Very gracious,” Dad said gravely, humor in his eyes, sitting on the same stool where he’d sat since our famous guests had arrived.
“I thought so,” I said, matching his tone but indulging in a giggle.
The next day, Carrie Bingley texted Jane to ask her to come with them to dinner at Ashworth’s. Mom read it over her shoulder. “All of them?”
“I think so,” Jane said, a shy smile starting.
“Obviously,” I said scornfully, but smiling for Jane. She, of all people, deserved to be happy.
Cade was there, Jane informed us as soon as she returned. She peacefully answered Mom’s hail of questions, radiantly happy.
Three weeks slid by. I worked at the boutique, swam every day like I had since high school, and composed. Jane finished out the school year with her second graders and spent almost every day with “Carrie”—she really did spend time with Carrie, but Carrie wasn’t the one that she couldn’t stop talking about—and wrote some of the best lyrics she’d ever written. I didn’t see Cade Bingley or any of his people until, following my saying we were ready, we were invited over to Cade’s house to start piecing together the final score.
Jane and I drove up together, deciding it would be easiest if only us two went, especially as we were the ones who wrote the music—our younger sisters just played and sang what we wrote. Dawn let me off work early, complaining lightly that I always took advantage of our practically being family. When I’d told her she didn’t need to give me any advantages because her older sister had married my mom’s younger brother, she’d just laughed and shooed me. I knew I owed Dawn a lot for letting me work so many hours and paying me so well. The boutique she’d started with Nel, her aforementioned older sister, had grown just enough to be difficult to manage but not enough to let her specialize in millinery like she wanted to. She hired me to take care of the clothing side—the side Nel had taken care of before moving with Uncle Ted to LA—and thus given me the only job I could manage alongside my very faltering music career.
Cade’s house was in the wooded hills that surrounded Meryton, in an area I wasn’t very familiar with. I never let anyone, not even Jane, drive my car, so between my inability to understand driving directions the first time and her naturally non-combative nature, we still hadn’t arrived when the storm broke.
It had been threatening to do so for nearly two days. Ryan Philips, our uncle (by marriage) and local newscaster, had been saying it was predicted to be the heaviest rainfall Meryton had experienced in years, and the sporadic thunder throughout the day had made it seem likely he’d be right.
Now, at four in the afternoon, it was dark as deep twilight, and the dirt road—who lives up a winding, forest-on-one-side, steep-drop-on-the-other dirt road anyway?—was quickly turning into mud. The predicted rain pounding heavily on my windshield made the already poor visibility worse. I slowed to a crawl.
“Should we turn around? I can call Carrie,” Jane offered.
“You still don’t have Cade’s number?” I asked, ignoring the question she’d already asked three times and that I’d already answered in the negative the same number of times.
“No,” she admitted. “He hasn’t asked for mine.”
“Show initiative!” I exclaimed.
“I don’t want to push him.”
I laughed. “I told Charlotte you still don’t have his number. Do you know what she told me?”
“What?”
“That if you didn’t act like you like Cade more than you like him, he’ll never make a move.”
“Do you think she’s right?” Jane asked worriedly.
“Charlotte? World-class cynic?”
“She’s not that cynical,” Jane disagreed.
“About romance she most certainly is,” I said decidedly. “Is this the turn-off?”
She leaned forward, peering at the gap in the trees I was inching towards. “I think so.”
“You think so? I really want to not get lost in this weather.”
“Sorry,” she said sincerely, and I felt bad for snapping. “Maybe if I get out and look at it.”
Repentant, I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s right. We’ll try it.” I turned and we were shortly in what could only qualify as darkness. My headlights were on, but they did a poor job of illuminating the world around us, mostly just turning the downpour into a patch of diamond streams in front of us.
Then, abruptly, we stopped. I swore.
“Don’t swear, Lilly,” Jane said automatically. Dad had brought us up religious, and didn’t hold with profane language, amongst other unchristian behaviors.
Usually I agreed with Dad, figuring the commandments weren’t just suggestions and that I’d be better off following them if I ever wanted heaven, not to mention peace in this life. But just then I was feeling spiteful and interested neither in heaven nor peace, so I swore again. Gripping the steering wheel, I did my best to stem my annoyance. “We’re stuck, Jane.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. “Do you have an umbrella?”
“No.” I checked my cell phone and sighed heavily. “And no signal.”
“Me neither,” she said, sliding her phone back into her pocket.
“I’ll try pushing. Slide over and keep the steering wheel straight when I get out, alright?”
“Do you want me to push?” she asked with typical thoughtless self-sacrifice.
“No, Janey,” I said, smiling at her. “I’m stronger than you.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she said with a faint answering smile.
“It is,” I said, taking one last deep breath before stepping into the deluge.
I was immediately soaked. I hadn’t troubled myself to put on any sort of rainproof clothing that morning, when the skies were gray but the air was warm. My hair was in a ponytail and I’d figured it couldn’t get much worse, but I felt it droop and strands came free with the rivulets running down my face to plaster against my skin. I’d stepped in at least six inches of mud and had to use all my flip-flop skills to keep them on my feet as I made my way to the back of the car.
As soon as I got in position to push I knew it wouldn’t work. I’d slide before the car did. I tried anyway, exerting all my energy, and fulfilled my prediction by slipping, banging my elbow against the back bumper and burying my knee in mud.
“Fantastic,” I muttered as I picked myself up, checking myself for cuts and finding a very thin but very painful scratch on my left hand. “Even better.” I trudged back to the car, passenger side, and opened the door, shouting over the downpour, “Hey, you wait here, I’m going to walk to the house and I’ll bring back help, or at least an umbrella!”
“I should go,” she said immediately, as I’d known she would.
I shook my head. “I’m already wet, and I don’t need to impress anyone,” I yelled with a wink.
“No, Lilly, you’ll get lost.”
“Naw, I’ll be fine. You know how stubborn I am.”
“I do know that,” she said, smiling, though her eyes were worried.
“And I’ll be dreadfully angry if you get wet despite my efforts, so stay here.”
She sighed. “Fine, but please be safe.”
“Aren’t I always?” I asked before setting off.
I was seriously chilled by the time I found the house. Some rich idiot who’d
declared bankruptcy afterwards had built it pretty recently—an enormous house in the middle of the woods, with a gorgeous view. I hadn’t seen it before, but I’d heard about it. Cade Bingley’s house met expectations. Tasteful but large enough that it couldn’t avoid being ostentatious.
On the doorstep, protected (mostly) from the rain, I took stock of my clothes. My calves were heavily muddied, my jean shorts soaked dark blue, my light yellow T a bit see-through and equally soaked. I smoothed back my drenched hair as well as I could and then went ahead and rang the doorbell, acknowledging to myself that there wasn’t much else I could do.
Carrie answered, looking like the Hollywood actress she was, glowing with cleanliness and fashion.
“Lilly Bennet?” she asked, obviously shocked.
“Are they here?” Cade called, walking up shortly after and taking rapid stock of my appearance. “Wow, Lilly, you’re wet!” He politely left out how muddy I was. “Where’s Jane?” He peered into the watery darkness.
“Our car got stuck. She’s waiting there. I was hoping only one of us had to play sponge.”
“Of course,” he said immediately. “Please, come in. We can drive down and get her.”
I was ushered inside and stood in the tile entryway, conscious of the steady plink-plink-plink as my clothes dripped a puddle on the floor.
“She just said her car got stuck, Cade,” Carrie said derisively. “We can’t drive down.”
Louise showed up then. “Hello, Lilly. Trouble?” She seemed more interested in the idea of trouble than me.
“Yeah,” Cade answered for me. “Hey, Will!” he shouted into the house. “C’mere!”
Will shortly appeared, looking unfairly attractive (not to mention clean) in light tan slacks and a casual blue button-up. He stared impassively at me but didn’t say anything.
“Their car got stuck, and Jane’s still in it,” Cade explained.
“Where is it stuck?” Will asked.
“Maybe a dozen feet up the turn-off,” I answered.
He nodded, thinking briefly. “Well, I’m not particularly inclined to get soaked tonight, and pushing a car out of mud is difficult in the best of circumstances. If we drive down, we’ll get stuck. She’ll have to walk up here.”