I MAY HAVE BEEN WRONG ABOUT WICK AND DARCY, BUT I had always known that Charles Bingley was wonderful. And I was so happy to be right about someone (for once). His connections had almost cut off his connection, but in the end, the truest connection had prevailed.
A dark cloud had lifted. The week of midterms was pretty uneventful, and that was a good thing. All of my exams went well. Jane was happy. It looked like I was going to be able to keep my scholarship.
Unfortunately, not all was going smoothly. I was having trouble with my recital piece.
"Try it again, but slower," Mrs. Gardiner said to me after I botched a complicated run for the third time.
I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. I lightly ran my fingers over the keys, trying to get my brain and fingers to work together to go through the most difficult sequence in Rhapsody. I slowed the pace and was able to hit every note.
"Perfect. Now faster."
I went up to tempo and my fingers ran into each other. A horrible sound erupted from the piano.
"Sorry, I've been practicing, really. I'll work on it over break."
Mrs. Gardiner smiled at me. "I know you will. But I have another assignment for you over the break."
I held in a groan. Rhapsody was challenging enough.
Mrs. Gardiner went over to her desk and pulled out an envelope. "You know Claudia Reynolds?"
"Of course!"
Claudia Reynolds was my idol. Any time I got stuck on a piece, I'd find footage of her playing it to try to figure it out. The emotion she put into her music was without equal, and her phrasing was always perfect.
"Well, this is for you." She handed me an envelope, and inside were two tickets to see Claudia Reynolds that weekend at Carnegie Hall.
I was stunned. "I can't ..."
Mrs. Gardiner waved my protest away. "Nonsense. It's my pleasure. You deserve it."
I thanked her profusely and immediately called my mother to tell her our plans for Saturday afternoon. Having that to look forward to made the remainder of the week, including the rest of my exams, bearable.
I could hardly wait to get back home. Every time I returned to the city Jane offered me a ride with her and Lydia. But, as always, I declined and took the ninety-minute train ride from town to Grand Central Station. No other Longbourn or Pemberley student would be caught dead on mass transit, so I knew I would be alone. I needed the solitude before going home, a chance to detox myself from all the negativity and pressure of campus. It was as if I dropped off my emotional baggage at each station stop along the way.
By the time the train arrived in Manhattan and I saw my parents and a couple friends waiting for me at the kiosk in the middle of the station, I was the old Lizzie. The happy, warm Lizzie of yesteryear. They embraced me and instantly I knew that despite the remaining commute back to Hoboken, I was already home.