The Pride and Prejudice of Musicians

by Jessica Daw

  “You mean it was funny that I didn’t realize I wasn’t helping you,” he said flatly.

  “I’ve offended you again, haven’t I?” I asked, biting my lip.

  “I’m not offended,” he said stiffly.

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like me.”

  “You keep saying that,” he said, irritated.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. I mean, I don’t really know why you don’t like me, but I don’t particularly care that you do. Dislike me, I mean.”

  “Do you always tell people what they think of you?” he asked impatiently.

  “Not twice,” I said with a grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my clothes. I’m not fully dressed, you know,” I added in a conspiratorial tone.

  “You said that to make me uncomfortable,” he accused, though his voice was too stiff for me to believe I hadn’t succeeded.

  “I may have,” I confessed before turning on my bare heel and walking away.

  I didn’t see him again before Jane and I left, and I couldn’t say I wanted to. Cade came with us and between the two of us we pushed my car out of the rut it had been stuck in, then Jane and I were off.

  “Spill,” I said as soon as we were alone.

  She blushed. “There’s nothing to spill,” she said in a terrible attempt to lie.

  “Jane,” I said in my best disappointed voice. “A lie?”

  She laughed, as she always did when she was caught in a lie. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I, Lilly?”

  “Nothing,” I affirmed.

  After sighing, she smiled. “Cade is perfect.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Perfect?”

  “Don’t laugh, Lilly,” she said, though a smile was in her voice.

  I got pretty serious then. “Janey, are you in love?”

  “I . . . I think I may be. He hasn’t even kissed me,” she told me.

  “He hasn’t kissed you?” I asked, genuinely shocked.

  I saw her shake her head from the corner of my eye. “He’s such a gentleman.”

  “No kidding. When’s the last time you’ve been with a guy for longer than ten minutes and not been kissed?”

  “It’s not as bad as all that,” she protested mildly.

  “Fine. Twenty minutes.”

  “I guess guys usually try to kiss me a little quicker,” she submitted.

  “I’d say so.” After a moment I asked, “When will you see him again?”

  “I’m not sure. The crew’s supposed to start arriving this evening and tomorrow, and I think they’ll start shooting soon.”

  “Ah. What will you do with yourself? School’s over, and Cade’s busy,” I teased her.

  “Mope, I suppose,” she said with rare sarcasm, making me burst into laughter.

  The crew did indeed begin arriving that evening, and continued arriving through the morning. Kitty and Lydia were gone the entire night, sending us exultant texts just sporadically enough that I turned my phone off.

  So I was fully aware that Yuri Wickham, apparently a heartthrob whose name I didn’t recognize—not that I was exactly well-versed in heartthrobs—was in town. I just hadn’t expected to see him, or anyone else famous, walk into work.

  Dawn Watson, my boss and my mom’s brother’s wife’s sister as well as a millinery genius, was in the backroom at the time. It was where she preferred to be, creating incredible accessories, everything from masks to hats to headbands. Charlotte and I were her only employees, and since Charlotte was the main seamstress I usually ended up manning the store.

  There had actually been a few customers that morning, which was more than could be said for far too many mornings, but the store was empty when he walked in.

  Everything about him exuded Hollywood, from his muscular six-foot frame to his height-of-fashion designer clothes to his brilliant white smile that he flashed at me to his styled blond hair to his swimming-pool blue eyes. Even, I noticed as he came closer, his very expensive-smelling cologne.

  I knew right away that he was self-assured to the point of being cocky, and that he was fully aware of how charming that smile he’d given me was.

  “Now I know I’m in a small town,” he said by way of greeting, smiling again. His accent was definitely foreign, but I couldn’t quite place it. Somewhere between English and Eastern European.

  I couldn’t resist that smile, so I bit. “Oh?”

  “Only in a small town would a store this fantastic be empty,” he replied.

  I laughed.

  “I’m not exaggerating,” he insisted. “If clothes and accessories this fantastic were being sold in, say, LA, the store would be swarming with every paragon of fashion, I guarantee it.”

  “So you’re a paragon of fashion?” I asked teasingly.

  His eyes crinkled with merriment. “As you see,” he said, twirling to show me his entire outfit.

  “Mm-hmm.” I made the noise doubtful. I was flirting, and both of us knew it.

  He feigned outrage. “Let me assure you that you would find no high-end store mannequin better put-together than myself.”

  “Oh, well if you’re assuring me,” I said sarcastically.

  The smile flashed again, but he pretended not to catch my tone. “I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.”

  “As am I, Mr. . . . ?”

  He made a face. “Not Mr. Just Yuri—or, in the spirit of full disclosure, Yuri Wickham.”

  I knew he was waiting for a reaction. The day before, I wouldn’t have known I should react to that name, but that seemed irrelevant. “Yuri . . . is that name German or something?”

  He played along. “Russian, actually.”

  “Ah . . .” I said, as if that meant anything. “Well, in that case, my name’s Lilly. Lilly Bennet.”

  “Lilly,” he said, tasting my name in a way I couldn’t help but like. “Short for anything?”

  “Elizabeth,” I answered promptly.

  “That one I know,” he said with a nod.

  “Yes, everyone does,” I said distastefully. It was partially the reason I’d taken to going by Lilly—though the main reason had been Dad’s virulent dislike of every other shortening of the name Elizabeth, and Mom’s love of nicknames. “I suppose you don’t have that as often.”

  “People recognizing my name?” he asked innocently.

  “Yes,” I replied, as if I hadn’t caught his double meaning.

  Finally he laughed. “Either you’re too good or you really don’t know who I am.”

  “The former,” I informed him. “My sisters have been telling me all about you.”

  His face didn’t change in the slightest. “Have they? What have you heard?”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “If I tried to remember everything they’ve told me about people and events with no pertinence to myself whatsoever, I’d have no room in my head for important things like what time I start work.”

  “I have no pertinence whatsoever to you?” he asked, putting a hand to his chest as if wounded.

  “I didn’t know you were so charming,” I said in self-defense.

  “I am dreadfully charming, aren’t I?”

  “Dreadfully,” I agreed.

  “Though not nearly as fascinating as you. What are you doing in—what’s this place’s name?”

  “The Garden?” I asked, naming the store.

  “No, the town. Village?”

  “We’re not a village!” I exclaimed with exaggerated indignation.

  “My sincerest apologies,” he said humbly. “Town, then?”

  “Meryton, Mr. Wickham.”

  He made a face at the name. “I told you, not Mr. Just Yuri.”

  “Then Meryton, Yuri,” I said, the name foreign on my tongue.

  “Thank you. What are you doing in Meryton?”

  “Working, I think.”

  “A face like yours shouldn’t have to work! It should be lying on a beach somewhere, every finger waited on by slavish admirers!”<
br />
  “You had me until slavish,” I told him. “But I’ve always associated slavish behavior with stupidity, and I can’t bear stupidity.”

  “No, naturally. A woman of your intellect would chafe at such company.”

  I laughed at that particularly outrageous comment. I could talk to Yuri Wickham all day.

  I didn’t—well, not all day. But he stayed at the store for nearly an hour, flirting in the same outrageous and completely irresistible way the entire time. He even bought a few of our rather sparse masculine accessories. And before he left, he surprised me by going so far as to ask me when I got off.

  “Seven,” I said a bit blankly.

  “Eat with me, Lilly, I beg of you. I’ll be lost if you don’t.”

  “It’s very easy to get lost in a village of this size,” I said sympathetically.

  “You have no idea. I’ll be here at seven, then?”

  Grinning a touch too wide, I said, “I will be, at the very least.”

  “Be hungry! You shall dine like a queen!”

  “I expect no less,” I told him.

  “Until then,” he said, and—no lie—blew me a kiss.

  I was laughing too hard to respond.

  It wasn’t until the door had closed behind him and maybe a minute had lapsed that Dawn appeared on the scene.

  “Well, Lilly,” she said, smiling wickedly.

  “You were eavesdropping?” I asked, but her expression was too funny for me to get angry or even be embarrassed.

  “You have no idea how many times I had to shove my face into a pillow to keep you from hearing me laugh,” she told me.

  “He’s hilarious, isn’t he?” I winced. “I sounded fan girly there, didn’t I?”

  “A little,” she said sympathetically. “I can’t believe that I just eavesdropped on Yuri Wickham talking to you.”

  “Yeah? Have you seen his movies?”

  “Only all of them! You haven’t?”

  “You know how I feel about movies,” I said distastefully.

  She nodded wisely. “I’d forgotten. That would explain how easily you could talk to him. I would’ve probably fallen down and broken my head open in the process. I almost fell down just listening.”

  “He has a nice voice, doesn’t he?” I asked musingly.

  Dawn caught on immediately, her makeup-less brown eyes widening even as her characteristic quirky smile spread. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “I can’t help myself,” I admitted. “He’s so charming—witty, too, not to mention friendly.” I bit my lip. “I wouldn’t mind seeing more of him.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Dawn went all knowingly.

  “Oh, come on! It’s hardly my fault that he’s irresistible.”

  “The great Lilly has finally fallen!” she proclaimed.

  At that inconvenient moment, Charlotte Lucas walked in.

  “Fallen?” she asked curiously, her eyes going between us.

  “Yuri Wickham visited the store this morning,” Dawn confided.

  “Don’t blame me, Charlotte,” I said quickly. “He is ridiculously charming.”

  “He could be a useful connection for you, Lilly,” Charlotte said practically.

  I made a face. “Connection isn’t any fun—unless, of course, it’s a romantic connection, in which case it’s very fun.”

  “You know what I mean,” Charlotte said, though she smiled.

  “I do. You always see the value in things like a celebrity acquaintance. I just saw someone to flirt with,” I said, faking mournfulness.

  “He’s taking her to dinner, Charlotte,” Dawn said, in a life-is-so-unfair tone.

  Charlotte laughed. “Of course Lilly would get asked out by a celebrity on his first day in Meryton.”

  I shoved Charlotte playfully. “Fate owes me; the last celebrity I spent time with hates me.”

  “I don’t know that Will Darcy hates you,” Charlotte disagreed.

  “Oh, he hates me.” And I launched into a story of my time at Cade Bingley’s home, exaggerating freely. The three of us migrated into the workroom, listening for the bell that announced any guests, and chatted through the remaining hours of work.

  Around 6:45 my eyes started, of their own accord, to glance every few seconds at all the reflective surfaces in the room, checking my hair and makeup. And around 6:46 Dawn told me to go choose an outfit from our small clothing collection and primp in the employees-only restroom. I obeyed unhesitatingly, even though Dawn and Charlotte both laughed at me.

  I chose a summery flower-strewn dress with matching white sandals decorated with silk flowers, and was glad I had when Yuri showed up, just a few minutes after seven. He had changed into tan slacks and a white button-up shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to reveal muscled forearms sprinkled with golden hair, the leather bracelet he’d bought that morning gracing his wrist.

  Before he came into the store I slipped out.

  “Are you hiding me?” he asked, holding out a hand for mine. I took it, thinking I’m holding hands with a celebrity and simultaneously thinking Why do I keep referring to him as a celebrity instead of just Yuri? I knew the answer—part of his attraction was his fame. I liked the idea of a well-known actor dating me. Not that we were dating, of course, but hey, close enough.

  “You are pretty embarrassing.”

  “Ouch.”

  “The truth hurts sometimes.”

  “I guess I should just take it like a man.”

  “I guess you should.”

  By then he was opening the door of a flashy red car for me. “My lady,” he said with a gracious sweep of his arm.

  “My lord,” I replied, daintily lifting the hem of my dress (as if it were floor-length instead of knee) and climbing in. I assumed the car was a rental—it had that almost-sterile clean feel of a new car, and I didn’t think he would’ve purchased a car for what I believed would be no longer than a two-week stay.

  We bantered on in a similar fashion until we arrived at Ashworth’s. I made a face, but he was busy parking and didn’t notice. I considered protesting, but thought that Yuri Wickham could make even a dinner at Ashworth’s interesting. He’d certainly made the drive through Meryton interesting.

  Inside we were seated immediately in a private room—I hadn’t even known Ashworth’s had private rooms—but even between entering the restaurant and walking straight into the private room I heard people whispering and staring. I couldn’t help but smile; I was vain enough to be flattered by the attention of my fellow village dwellers.

  Once alone with our food on the way, Yuri grinned at me. “Guess we made a bit of a stir.” His English/Eastern European accent was delightful.

  “You did,” I corrected.

  He shrugged. “People who haven’t seen many celebrities usually don’t know how to react.”

  “You’d think they’d be used to it by now.” His eyebrows rose. “I mean, what with Cade and Carrie Bingley and all of them.”

  “Ah. I’d forgotten they’ve been here longer. Have you spent much time with them?”

  “Ugh. More than I ever wanted to.”

  His mouth quirked in a smile. “You don’t like them?”

  “I like Cade very well,” I said truthfully. “The rest I could do without.”

  “Will Darcy’s here, isn’t he?”

  “He’s deigned to grace the humble villagers of Meryton with his presence, yes,” I said sarcastically.

  He laughed. “I see he’s been acting in character.”

  “He’s always like this?”

  “If by this you mean extremely proud and generally lacking courtesy, then yes.”

  “How does he have any friends?” I burst, actual frustration coloring my tone. I hadn’t meant to be serious, but I had to admit that Will Darcy was still bothering me.

  “Has he offended you? That sounded personal,” he said, still smiling.

  “I’m pretty sure he hates me and I can’t figure out why,” I answered honestly.

  “Don’t worry
about it,” he advised. “He doesn’t generally like people who aren’t as rich and famous as he is.”

  “Is that it?” I asked. It hadn’t even occurred to me that my much lower financial status could have incurred his disapproval.

  Shrugging, he said, “It’s why he didn’t like me.”

  “You know him?” I was surprised.

  “Very well, actually,” he said, keeping his voice light with an audible effort.

  “How?”

  “It’s a long story,” he hedged.

  “I love stories.”

  Taking a breath, he began. “My dad was good friends with Will’s dad, from way back. They used to run in the same circle but . . . well, my dad was a gambler, and his family money had been running short for a few generations. By the time he had me, we were downright poor. But Will’s dad, William, was good through and through. He would never have cut my dad out of his life for being poor, or making a few bad decisions.

  “Anyway, my dad ended up dying in a car wreck when I was seven. My mom had ditched before that, going back to Russia—her homeland—to chase someone younger and richer than Dad. I was all alone, but William took me in. He couldn’t adopt me—Will’s mom was a lot more like Will than his dad—but he found a good family to take me in, and made sure I went to the best schools, had all the best chances. I was at the Darcys’ home all the time, and when we were younger Will and I would play together. We were friends.

  “Then William Darcy died. Eleven years ago now. I still miss him.”

  He paused for a moment, and I murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be.”

  When he didn’t speak immediately, I said, “Go on. If you want to.”

  Nodding his head, he went on. “When he died I was seventeen—so was Will. It was fine for a year, but then Will’s mom, Anne, died too, and Will came into full possession of the enormous Darcy fortune.” He hesitated a moment, then went on. “Will had always been . . . jealous of me. His dad . . . well, he preferred me to Will. So I guess I can understand why he did what he did. That had to have been hard on him. I think he saw me as a cuckoo in his family’s nest and wanted to be rid of me.

  “William had had a great path laid out for me. I was going to go to law school after attending one of the best universities in England. Will had a different plan. He emptied the account William had opened to pay for my schooling and cut off communication with me.