"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 amazing. 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 again, 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."