The Pride and Prejudice of Musicians

by Jessica Daw

  “I’ll drive you,” he volunteered immediately.

  My heart leapt and my mind filled with dirty words, which caused a laugh to gurgle from me.

  “Something funny, Lilly?” Ted asked, eyes twinkling.

  “Nope,” I said without hesitation, avoiding Will’s eyes. I’d stared at him enough. Then the idiot laughed and I looked up and smiled despite myself. More dirty words came to mind.

  I’d been hoping I could disappear in the back seat, but Nel climbed right into the back of Will’s fancy car and Ted unhesitatingly followed her. It would be just plain rude to squish back with them and make Will play chauffeur, so I reluctantly climbed into the front.

  “Did you have a good evening?” he asked, sounding like he honestly cared about my answer.

  “Yes,” I said. It was mostly honest.

  “Yes? Is that all you have to say?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “I really like Georgia. She’s so genuine,” I said, then winced, hoping he wouldn’t think I’d meant to imply anything about that.

  “She’s always been better at that than me,” he said softly, but he didn’t look annoyed. Just thoughtful.

  “She loves you so much,” I said without really meaning to.

  He laughed. “I try to deserve her admiration, but I don’t think I ever will.”

  What could I say? “You seem like a very good brother,” I said lamely.

  “Do you actually think that?” he asked.

  I froze for a moment. “Well, yes,” I stammered.

  “Then I’m not as bad as you thought I was?”

  “Let’s not go that far,” I half-joked. When he didn’t respond, I sighed. “Sorry. No, Will. I’m still not sure exactly what to think about you, but . . . no. You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

  After a long pause, he said, “Thank you.”

  Neither of us spoke for the rest of the ride home, except when I said, “I still want to come hiking with you and Georgia tomorrow. If that’s okay.”

  He gave me a huge, hopeful smile, and I felt even worse for what I’d said, even though it was true. Or I was pretty sure it was. “Of course that’s okay. Do you want me to come pick you up? It’d be around 4:30 a.m.,” he warned me.

  “Yes, please do.”

  He walked us to the door of our hotel. Ted and Nel went straight in, holding hands, leaving Will and I standing on the front steps. I kept telling myself to go in but my feet seemed disinclined to listen.

  “I’ve had a really nice evening,” I blurted, then laughed. “That sounded pretty cliché, didn’t it?”

  “Pretty, yeah,” he said, his accent making the words funnier. “But I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

  I licked my lips, unaccountably nervous. “Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally said.

  “Alright.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Lilly?”

  I stopped. “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  I smiled, swallowed, then bit my lip. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  chapter thirteen

  Will pulled up at 4:27 in the morning. I’d been sitting on the curb in front of my hotel for exactly twelve minutes by then. Not that I was counting. Too much.

  He parked and walked out. “Georgia isn’t coming.”

  “Good morning to you too,” I said, not immediately catching onto what he was saying.

  “She slept in and told me to go without her. I would have called but I didn’t have your hotel’s number and I knew you’d left your phone in America. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended,” he said, his words sounding as if he’d rehearsed them on his way over. I sort of hoped he had.

  “I want to come,” I said before my mind had fully caught up.

  “You sure?” he asked, and I was almost certain he didn’t want to ask.

  I stood up before I could change my mind. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  He smiled and I knew I was heading for trouble, but couldn’t make myself care.

  For the first little while, our conversation was hobbled and awkward, but it fell into a rhythm as we started talking about books and movies and music and anything that didn’t have to do with our history. It lasted as we hiked and as we sat and watched the sunrise and as we walked back, and I found myself liking Will more and more, especially when he said he had no impulse control when it came to book buying.

  We were back in the car by then, pulling out of the parking lot. “Yeah? How many do you have?”

  “Thousands,” he answered without hesitation.

  “No way.”

  “I do!” he said with psuedo indignation.

  “Prove it.”

  “They’re at Pemberly,” he said, glancing my direction and then looking away.

  “I have a little time,” I said, then bit my lip. I wasn’t sure what would happen if we came into contact with another person. Would the balance we’d finally found fail if someone else were added to the equation?

  “You sure?” he asked, like he had when he’d picked me up.

  “Yeah. I’m sure,” I said again.

  We fell silent as we drove on. The silence wasn’t quite easy, at least on my side, because I couldn’t stop wondering if it was on his. I wondered if he was afraid of upsetting our balance too. My mind went in circles, and I had to laugh at the surge of gratitude I felt when we pulled into his garage.

  “Okay, fine,” I said as I stared at his incredible collection after he’d led me through his house to the library—the library, like in Beauty and the Beast. He had a library. “You win. This is way more than thousands.”

  “It’s not only what I bought,” he disclaimed. “This is the work of generations.” He gestured at a glossier section. “That’s mine.”

  “That’s pretty sizable,” I totally understated. It was most certainly thousands of books. Silence fell again. Just when it was stretching to a breaking point, I thought of a question. “Oh, hey, the wifi at my hotel’s been on the fritz, could I use your internet for a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” he said, relieved as I was that I’d found something to say. “You hungry? I think we have muffins and apples.”

  “One of each would be nice,” I said. He started leaving. I pulled out my phone and called after him for the password. He laughed embarrassedly and gave it to me.

  I curled up in an armchair and opened my email. It had been a few days since I’d last opened it, so it was full of jumbled newsletters and junk mail and other clutter. I didn’t see Jane’s email until I’d cleared some of the other stuff out.

  Dear Lilly,

  I know you only left a few days ago, but I already miss you! Not much is happening here. Mom’s been spending a lot of time with Aunt Fee, and Mary’s always working, and Kitty’s always out with friends. I know you’d say I have friends too, but it seems like everyone keeps getting married and having babies and moving away. I’m happy for them all, of course, but . . . I know you’ll laugh at me, but I can’t seem to forget Cade. Oh, Dad’s calling me, I’ll finish later.

  Lilly, something very bad as happened since I started this email. I don’t want to upset you, but you have to know. Especially since you may see it on the news.

  I don’t want to make it sound worse than it is. I don’t think it’s all bad, really, but . . . well, apparently Lydia’s been seeing Yuri Wickham. For a while, according to Gia. Gia didn’t think it was very serious, but when Yuri finished filming for his latest movie they ran away together. Lydia texted Gia about it the next day and then shut her phone off. We don’t know where either of them are, and we don’t want to ask around because we’re worried about the press getting ahold of Yuri running away with an eighteen-year-old.

  And Lilly . . . Lydia’s pregnant. Gia found a positive test in the trash can and confronted Lydia about it the day before she ran. Lydia got really angry when Gia suggested she abort the baby because of the scandal, and Gia thin
ks that may be part of why she ran away. We’re worried that she isn’t with Yuri, or that Yuri will leave her. I told Dad about what he’d done before—just Dad, not anyone else, so now he knows how serious it is. He knows that Yuri may not protect her, and Gia’s been paying for everything. She says Lydia left her credit cards behind with everything else.

  Dad’s trying to contact Ted and Nel but they haven’t responded. He was hoping that they could come home and help since they’ve had more dealings with Hollywood and all that than the rest of us. I’m so sorry that your vacation will be cut short, but we really need the help. Mom won’t leave her room. Email back as soon as you can.

  Love, Jane.

  I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Lydia, run away with Yuri? Lydia, pregnant with Yuri’s child? And the press was bound to get ahold of it . . . this would ruin my band’s image, turn us into the sisters of that trashy girl that Yuri got pregnant before we could even get our album out.

  And Lydia’s whole life . . . she’d be followed by that for the rest of her life. All of us would be. All of us would suffer . . . because I hadn’t told Lydia the truth. Because I’d kept my mouth shut about Yuri, too proud to admit my mistake.

  “Lilly?” Will’s voice shocked me. I looked sharply up. He was blurry—oh. I was crying.

  “Oh, Will,” I haf-sobbed.

  He hurried forward, kneeling in front of me and taking my hands. “What is it? What can I do?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Will, it’s Lydia!”

  “Is she hurt? What’s wrong?” he asked, anxiously searching my face.

  I shook my head, taking a deep breath, then another, trying to calm down. “She’s been seeing Yuri Wickham. She—she got pregnant, and Gia confronted her, and she ran away and left her credit cards behind and she said she went with Yuri but she turned off her phone, and we don’t know where they are, and—and—” I couldn’t speak.

  “Shh. Shh.” He gently moved my hair out of my face. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I have to go find Nel and Ted. My dad’s hoping that they may be able to help navigate around the press and find her. And I need to go home.” I couldn’t meet his eyes as I said it. Couldn’t sort through everything I was feeling right then.

  “Okay. When was your flight supposed to be?”

  “Um, a week from yesterday,” I said, grateful for something to focus on.

  “Do you have your hotel’s number? Do you think the Gardiners are still there?”

  “I think so—I have the number.”

  “Let me call them, Lilly. I’m so sorry. I . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Will.”

  After I gave him the number, he left the room. I couldn’t think. Yuri. Attractive, flirtatious, clever, inescapable Yuri was going to ruin the best shot I’d ever had at my dreams coming true. And do his best to destroy my sister’s life in the process.

  And Will. Leaving now . . . I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. What we had, if we had anything, was too tentative to become anything if I left now. And I had to leave. What kind of sister would I be if I stayed in England for a guy I may or may not be interested in when Lydia’s entire future hung in the balance? I tried to tell myself that was overdramatic, that she’d be fine, but I was sure that a big mistake like this could ruin a life.

  I heard footsteps, and looked up to see Will walking back in. His face was unreadable. “I’ll take you back to your hotel. You’ll be able to fly out this evening.”

  “Thank you so much, Will. I’m so sorry . . .” For what? For freaking out and spilling my family drama on him? For coming to England in the first place? For leaving?

  “Is there anything else you need? Anything I can do?”

  I shook my head, incapable of meeting his eyes. “No, you’ve done more than enough.”

  “I want to help,” he insisted. My eyes flicked up to his face and then away. He looked earnest, but what did that mean?

  “I don’t think anything can be done.” I laughed hollowly. “That sounded overly dramatic, didn’t it? But what are we supposed to do? Call the police? She’s an adult. She can do what she want. And the press would get ahold of it . . . sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not.

  “Let’s go. Thank you for driving me.”

  Neither of us spoke on the way to my hotel. I felt sick, for more reasons than I wanted to think about, one of which certainly having to do with the man sitting next to me.

  He stopped the car to walk me to the door—a true gentleman. I turned to face him but found I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I . . . I’m sorry, Will. You’ve been really nice. Tell Georgia I loved meeting her,” I said expressionlessly.

  “Lilly, I . . . I hope . . . I’m glad you came to England.”

  I laughed once without even the faintest trace of humor. “Yeah. Well, bye, Will.” Head still ducked, I went inside.

  Nel met me with a look of pity and understanding. “Oh, Lilly. Poor Lydia.”

  “She should have known better,” I said more vehemently than I’d meant to, my mind still on Will.

  “How could she have known? Everyone liked Yuri,” Nel said gently, taking my lashing out as a symptom of sorrow. Maybe it was. But I doubted it.

  I shook my head, but bit my tongue. Georgia’s story wasn’t mine to tell. And now wasn’t the time for a tirade against Lydia’s brainlessness. “Do you think we’ll be able to find them before the press does?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Nel said doubtfully.

  I swallowed further questions. What was the point of pressing Nel to admit she thought this was hopeless?

  That day felt endless, under too much pressure to do anything fun but with too much waiting to be distracted. Still our plane was landing too soon.

  I’d hoped Jane would pick us up from the airport, but Mary was waiting for us. She managed not to ask us a single question about how we were or how our trip had been, instead keeping up a steady monologue on all the dangers of Men and why it was better not to date at all. Nel fell asleep on Ted’s shoulder in the back. I wished I could fall to sleep but I couldn’t seem to tune out Mary’s preaching or calm my own restless thoughts.

  When we finally got home, I expected everyone to be asleep, but Jane was waiting in the kitchen for us. She ran forward and hugged me when I walked in. “I’m so glad you’re here, Lilly,” she said fervently.

  I couldn’t return the sentiment, but I said, “I’m happy to see you, Jane.”

  Kitty had appeared when I pulled away from Jane. I went forward and hugged her too, more to disguise the jolt I’d gotten at seeing her and thinking she was Lydia than because I’d missed her and was happy to see her again.

  I turned my attention back to Jane, who was pulling away from hugging Nel. “Mom’s upstairs. She’s been waiting for you to come—she’ll want to see all of you.”

  Ted shook his head. “Is she refusing to get out of bed?” he asked.

  “Ever since she heard the news,” Jane said almost apologetically.

  “Cynthia’s always been one for the dramatics,” he said with a very Ted-esque shrug.

  “It’s been very hard for her,” Jane explained.

  Ted smiled. “Don’t worry, Jane. I understand my sister reasonably well. I’m sure she’s writhing with jealousy at Lydia running off with a movie star.”

  Jane blushed, knowing as well as I did that Ted was more than likely right, but hating to admit to such base feelings in any human being.

  “That wasn’t kind, Ted,” Nel said, though she couldn’t quite hide her smile.

  “Sorry, dear,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Where’s Robert?” he asked Jane.

  “Dad’s been putting in late hours at the studio,” Jane said as she opened the door to Mom’s room.

  “Oh, Ted!” Mom cried. She was lying in her bed, comforter and pillows forming a nest around her, hair all in disarray and no makeup on. “What are
we going to do?My baby, lost? My baby, gone? My baby, alone? What if Yuri abandoned her? What if he murdered her so she wouldn’t go to the press about being pregnant? What if my Lydia’s dead behind a trashy bar right now? What if—”

  “Cynthia, calm down,” Ted interrupted, his beard twitching as he tried not to laugh. “Lydia isn’t dead, and chances are good that Yuri’s with her. There’s no need to panic yet.”

  “My baby’s gone!” she half-shrieked. “I can panic if I want to!” And then she promptly dissolved into hysterical sobs.

  “Has she been like this the whole time?” I asked Jane in an undertone.

  “Pretty much,” Jane said, almost sounding like it hadn’t been hard for her.

  “You’re so good, Jane. I would have been raving by now,” I told her, squeezing her hand.

  She smiled a little at me. “No you wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, yes I would. I’m already itching to escape,” I said truthfully. My tolerance for Mom’s hysterics was at something close to an all-time low. I needed to talk to Jane, alone.

  “Well . . . I think Ted has things in hand for now,” she said, correctly guessing that I wanted to talk to her.

  “I don’t think she’ll even notice we’re gone,” I said with a faint smile.

  We went and sat in my room. “Tell me,” I said, all joking gone.

  Jane bit her lip. “It’s my fault, Lilly,” she said suddenly. “I should have told her—I knew about Yuri, I knew the kind of man he is, and I’m so afraid that Lydia will be hurt or lost or alone and it will be because I didn’t tell her—”

  “Stop it, Jane,” I commanded, too guilty to laugh at the fact that Jane had managed to turn even this around on herself. “If it’s your fault, how much more is it my fault? I knew first—I got the account straight from W-Will,” I stumbled over his name but went on, “and I only told you. I could have told Lydia when I found out, or when Gia invited her to go off with her, or when Lydia kept not coming home . . . do you blame me?”

  “No, of course not,” she said without hesitation, concern in her gentle eyes.