Henry put his hand on my back as if to guide me. We walked briskly until we were around the corner and out of view of our respective parents. Then, we ran full tilt towards the house like a couple of kids, each determined to get their hands on the door first. My attire was better suited to an impromptu race, and I won easily before we broke out in breathless laughter while we leaned against the back door.

Childish, but fun.

The house was open and modern. The spaces seemed to flow into one another, which made it feel tranquil and natural rather than by design. The windows were enormous. Some took up entire walls from floor to ceiling. Had the light not glinted from them, one would have been mistaken in believing that they could step through and out into the garden. The views they afforded were stunning; woodland, a hedge maze with a staggeringly beautiful fountain in the middle, and rolling lawns dotted with budding flowers.

The floors were all lightly stained and highly polished wood. They gleamed as the sunlight pooled upon them. It glanced from the corners of glass-topped coffee tables and illuminated modern white vases atop plinths which could have been works of art on their own. It felt minimalist but occupied. The furniture was squared off, all straight lines and sharp edges, which was a stark contrast to the building. Yet, that contrast seemed to work. It made the chosen pieces of furniture feel like purposeful statements, designed to stand out against the Zen house.

'Nice, right?' Henry asked. 'Down here it's all open plan, massive windows, and a kitchen that'd put most restaurants to shame. The dining room is ridiculous and there are only three of them in the family. My university dorm could fit in the downstairs loo.'

'Isn't there a ballroom down here?' I asked. 'Don't all mansions have ballrooms?'

'Nope.'

'Wow, they're failing at the rich people game. How will people know how important you are if you don't have a whole room for your balls?'

Henry snickered. 'Maybe you should come back when they're home and ask them?'

'I might! On behalf of all normal people, I'll come back and ask them about their balls.'

'You can ask them why three people need five bedrooms, too,' he suggested.

'Just five? How can they possibly cope?'

'I think they drown their sorrows with whatever's in the wine cellar,' he whispered.

'Hey,' I said, 'do they at least have a music room? Like, with expensive guitars and stuff?'

'Not really, but there's a piano on the next floor. Come on, I'll show you.'

As eager as I was to see it, and as much as I joked about the ridiculousness of the house, I felt like we were invading someone's privacy by poking around their house without their knowledge. We climbed the stairs and turned a corner onto a grand galleried landing which looked down over the living area below. At the front of the building, standing swathed in sunlight against the towering windows, stood the most beautiful instrument I'd ever beheld. It was like something from a painting, standing grand yet unassuming against one of the most beautiful views in the entire country. It was the sort of sight that one imagined to be accompanied by a chorus of angels singing heavenly praise.

In short, it was inspirational.

'Is that a Fazioli?'

'I don't know,' Henry admitted. 'Is it?'

'Hell yeah. They have one of these at my school, but we're not allowed to touch it unless there's a big recital going on. They're seriously expensive.'

'Do you want to try it?'

I span on my heel to face him. 'Really? Can I?'

'Sure. Who's going to know?'

'No one so long as we take the secret to our graves.'

'Deal.'

His phone rang in his pocket and Henry motioned that I should go ahead. I wasn't going to wait for him to change his mind. He mouthed that he'd be back soon and headed downstairs. That was probably for the best. I didn't know that I wanted him to hear me play. Yes, I'd been practicing all manner of instrument at school, but I'd seldom had an audience to tell me just how terrible I was. I sat down on the stool and carefully lifted the lid to see the gleaming keys. Even if it was just a showpiece, someone was keeping it well. It was even in perfect tune.

Before I could stop myself, I was well in the throes of a rendition of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Summer, to be precise. I got points for trying, even if I fudged a few of the notes. It wasn't like it was easy to play, especially without the sheet music. It was one of the first things I'd learnt when I stepped up to longer, more complicated pieces. I didn't have the confidence to do the whole thing, but I could remember enough that any improvised bridges didn't make it a total mess. At least, not to my ears. My music teacher might have had a fit if they'd heard me bodging such an iconic composition.

I skipped a key by mistake and lost my place.

Well, I hadn't done as badly as I usually did. Maybe it was because it was such a delicate instrument, or perhaps it was the scenery. It was too bad no one was around to hear me not screwing something up for a change. Getting things wrong was fast becoming a habit of mine. It was a relief to know that this habit didn't always extend to musical ability.

'Not bad,' a woman said behind me.

I stood quickly. A dangerous move. In my haste to escape – or to explain myself in a way that might get me into less trouble – I fell over the stool. Mercifully, I fell backwards, so I didn't damage the piano. I'd hate to have been sent the bill for that repair. I landed hard on the floor and swore loudly, my head already pounding after it collided with the ground.

I was such an idiot.

Someone offered me their hand to help me back up, and I took it without checking who it was attached to. I wished I had as soon as I was on my feet. Staring back at me was the last person in the world I wanted to run into.

William Darcy.

'Jesus!' I exclaimed and shot backwards. 'What are you doing here?'

'This is my house.'

'What?!'

'Our house,' the young woman corrected. 'It belongs to our family. Who are you?'

'I – I'm no one.' I shoved my hands down into my pockets. 'Sorry, I'll go.'

If my P. E teacher saw how fast I could run in such a situation, she would sign me up for the track team. I couldn't believe I'd just willingly walked into William's house and then played on his stupid piano. It was worse because he was there to hear me.

God, I was so stupid!

I raced right past Henry, who looked thoroughly confused about what might have happened. Rather than coming after me, I heard him go in the opposite direction, no doubt to see if I'd done anything to his employers.

My brakes weren't all that well tuned, and I crashed into Dad once I was back on the grounds. He held my arms to stop me falling and asked, 'What happened? Are you okay?'

'We need to leave,' I gasped between breaths.

'You didn't break something, did you?'

'No! I – I don't think so – maybe? Can we go?!'

'James,' he said to the man who'd been observing his work, 'I'll need to order a part for this if I don't have one back at the garage. I'll call you. And if she broke anything, I'll take it off what you owe me. Deal?'

'Absolutely. I'm sure nothing's damaged, and if it is, the family won't be too upset by it. Ah, here is Master William, now.'

I squeaked. With no other option, I dove into the truck's cab and hid in the foot-well. It was cramped, but at least he wouldn't be able to see me. Either my deception had worked, and he didn't know where I was, or he was just respecting the fact I didn't want to talk to him when he bypassed the vehicle. I heard him walk over to my Dad and say, 'You're Mr Bennett?'

'Greg, if you're a friend of my daughter's. Nice to meet you, William.'

'I was surprised to see her here,' William said conversationally. 'Are you staying in this part of the country for long?'

Dad laughed, 'I should hope so!'

'Mr Bennett and his daughter live in the town,' James explained. 'They have a garage there. I called Mr Bennett to fix a piece of machinery. He was just on his way.'

'Will you stay for dinner?' William asked. 'We'd be happy if you did.'

Yeah, probably so he could make fun of us. I didn't think for a second that William was being nice to Dad for any other reason. He hated me, and he didn't like poor people. He'd not said that outright, but I could tell. His sister might not be so bad, but he was absolutely the worst person ever, apart from Gideon, obviously.

Dad was mulling it over. Ultimately, he declined. 'I don't think we can tonight. It's your first day here, and you should settle in. But here's my card...' I heard him pause, and I suspected that he might be looking in my direction. I wasn't brave enough to peek. He continued, 'Come by tomorrow at lunch. I'll make sure Beth's around.'

Git.

'Thank you, Sir. I'll do that.'

'Call me Greg. Until tomorrow, then. James, I'll call about the part.'

Well, even if William did come by, he wouldn't get to see me. Because I had absolutely no intention of being there when he did.

He could fool Dad into thinking he was a decent human being, but I wasn't going to fall for it.

Not after Paris.