Although Amanda had said that I could wear jeans, it still took me two hours to decide on an outfit. My bed was strewn with discarded dresses and skirts that either looked too casual or not casual enough. I didn't want to give off the impression that I was trying too hard for William's sake, but I also didn't want to look like I'd just rolled out of bed and shown up, putting no thought into it.

After much digging, I unearthed a pair of jeans I'd never worn before. They were a darker blue than I'd have liked, high-waisted and boot-cut, but they'd have to do. I paired them up with a thin, boat-necked white jumper with sleeves long enough that they passed my knuckles over a black spaghetti-strap vest so that no one could see my bra through the fabric. I wanted to make a good impression on William's mother and wearing a see-through top wouldn't do that. This was a woman with enough money and influence to have me expelled from the school if she so wished. I couldn't screw the evening up by being... well, by being myself.

I stood in front of the mirror and turned here and there, checking that my hair was behaving and that the natural waves hadn't rebelled and turned into unkempt patches of frizz, and that my make-up was natural and not too heavy. I spent so much time fretting about my own outfit that I barely gave a thought to what Dad might wear.

When I emerged from my room, I found him still wearing clothes stained with oil. It was unavoidable in our house, but I couldn't let him walk into someone else's home and leave stains on the furniture. Rather than trusting him to find his own clothes, I rolled up my sleeves and dug through his drawers until I found an acceptable shirt. I had to run the iron over it a few times to get out all the wrinkles. It was obvious that he hadn't worn it in years. Eventually, after many complaints, he looked halfway presentable.

'Should I have worn a tie?' he asked as we hopped out of his truck at Pemberley Manor.

'No, but I feel like I should have worn a dress,' I muttered as we headed to the door.

I had butterflies in my stomach. The house looked far more imposing at night than it had during the day. Illuminated, one could see just how impressive the building was against the surrounding landscape. I immediately regretted that we'd driven to the house rather than taking a cab. I was glad that it was dark and that no one could see the vehicle clearly. It looked out-of-place standing on the driveway. I was worried that someone might think it was a wreck and have it towed away during our dinner.

The door opened before we knocked. I wasn't sure what to do with my raised hand and dropped it pointlessly at my side. Henry grinned at me. 'You look nice. I'm almost jealous that I'm not having dinner with you.'

'Funny. Are we late?'

'No. They're waiting for you. I have to go into professional mode, now.'

'I get it. Do your thing,' I said.

Henry ushered us into the house and closed the door behind us. The vestibule was a vast space with an elegant, modern lighting installation hanging from the cavernous ceiling. Henry led the way toward the nearest door, and we were soon back in the open living space I'd thought was so beautiful when I'd been given my impromptu tour. Henry cleared his throat gently to gain the attention of the room. In a clear voice, he announced, 'Mr Bennett and Miss Bennett have arrived.'

'Finally!' Amanda pushed the fashion magazine off her lap and cut off Chantelle, who was in the middle of talking about something in the article. Amanda raced over and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I froze up and didn't move until she let me go. When I was free, I smiled at her nervously. She grinned and said, 'Love the jeans.'

'Ditto.'

'You look like you made an effort. I wonder who that was for...'

'Me?' I asked. 'Nah. I just threw on any old thing.'

Chantelle sauntered over. 'Well, that's obvious. I can't believe you had the gall to dress so casually, Bennett. Where do you think you are?'

'Where I asked her to be,' Amanda said. 'Mind your tone in someone else's house, Chantelle. You're a guest here too, remember?'

Chantelle opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and kept her nose in the air while she stalked back to her seat. So long as she wasn't rude to my Dad, I would tolerate her for an evening. Just the one. And I might be tempted to kick her in the shins during dinner if I thought she was out of line.

Horrid cow.

Amanda was distracted by greeting my father. She did so with a friendly handshake and smile, putting him at ease at once. William's sister struck me as the sort who got along easily with everyone she met. I wasn't in the least bit nervous about her being polite to my dad while in her company. William was quick to introduce Charlie to Dad and kept the same cordial manner he'd used the previous day. I was surprised, to say the least. I was starting to think he'd undergone a personality transplant before returning from Paris.

Despite all the warm welcomes and happy faces, my stomach still fluttered with nerves. I'd acquainted myself with every member of the party save one, William's mother.

If I'd thought Amanda was beautiful, then her Mum was majestic. She'd aged gracefully, and although she wasn't old compared to many people's parents, she had a certain dignity about her that spoke of an underlying strength of will and character. With her husband having passed on and her family being so distinguished, she must have fought hard to maintain their position in society. She was dressed modestly, but in that there was a certain elegance. She came to shake my hand. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to bow or anything. My awkwardness endeared me to her somewhat, and she said, 'My name is Harriet Darcy. I've heard from my children you're a good friend of theirs. It's nice to meet you at last.'

'Thank you for inviting us, Mrs Darcy,' I said. 'This is my Dad.'

'Greg.' He shook her hand. 'I have a garage in town.'

'Yes, I heard from James that we have you to thank for getting some of our equipment back up and running. It's too bad this isn't our main estate. I'd have asked you to look at some of our classic cars for us.'

'For cars, I'm always willing to commute,' he laughed.

It looked like I'd been worrying for nothing.

Aside from a few snide comments from Chantelle, the dinner was a success. Amanda was more than happy to include me in conversations and asked me about surfing, music, and school. We had more in common than I first thought. Although she was more into riding horses than waves, she was proficient in playing the violin. So much so, in fact, that while we were drinking coffee, Harriet suggested that we perform a duet. Obviously, I'd laughed. People didn't just do things like that in real life. Not people like me. If she'd suggested out-of-tune karaoke I might have understood, but not an impromptu classical concert.

Sadly, she was entirely serious, and I couldn't find the words to talk my way out of it.

Dad and I followed the others up to the piano. On the stairs, he held me back and whispered, 'Are you sure you want to do this?'

'It's fine,' I whispered. 'It's just one piece.'

'Only if you're sure you're all right with it.'

I nodded and thought I saw William watching us from the corner of my eye. When I looked up properly, I saw that he was deep in conversation with Charlie and I supposed that I must have imagined it. He'd have no reason to be staring at me, nor to eavesdrop on us.

'Come on,' I urged Dad. 'Let's get it out of the way.'

'That was her old violin. She hasn't played that one since she was fourteen,' William was telling his mother when we joined them.

'It's still in tune,' Amanda said. She plucked a string and winced. 'Or not. I'll adjust it.'

Harriet showed me to the piano and said in a low voice so that no one else would hear, 'I don't think it's the first time you've used this...'

'Sorry about that,' I said.

'No need. I'm just disappointed I missed the show.'

'She's good,' William assured his mother. 'Not up to Amanda's level, but talented.'

'I suppose that's all the private lessons she's been having,' Chantelle said. 'Oh, don't think I haven't heard. I'm not that cut off from everyone. Gideon's your private music teacher, isn't he?'

Amanda almost dropped her bow.