The day of the audition arrived.
James, Lizzy and grandpa John walked the 10 minutes from Lizzy's childhood home to the grounds of the private boys school with plenty of time to spare before the audition.
Grandpa John explained to James the many shenanigans he and his friends got up to before and after school. He recalled the many times spent underneath fig trees and climbing the sandstone walls, and how they cheered on the rowers at the regatta.
James saw the uniforms that the boys wore. They were different to what he was used to. Out went the untucked cotton shirts and polyester shorts, in went boaters for the young students, silk ties, woollen pants and striped blazers for the older students.
Lizzy noticed the increasing class consciousness on James's face. In western Sydney, the melting pot of races meant what you looked like did not matter. Here, there were subtle judgements as the school boys looked curiously at James.
"James, remember to pause and breathe before you play," Lizzy said.
He nodded pensively and entered the audition room which was already full of hopeful boys waiting to show their talents.
As Lizzy and Grandpa John waited on a bench underneath the staircase outside the room where the auditions were taking place, they heard what seemed to be two masters in their gowns heading down the stairs in a leisurely manner. Their conversation reverberated throughout the quadrangle.
"Who do we have auditioning today Matlock?" Asked one.
"A contingent of Western Sydney boys and upper north Shore feeder students." They could hear the crisp sound of shuffled papers.
"Ah, the usual sob stories from the west of dragon parents seeking scholarships to propel their boys up society and bypass the usual structures of civility." The first one brusquely described this in a manner of stating a fact rather than opinion.
Lizzy quietly gasped and looked at her father. Her father pursed his lips and his eyebrows arched, imploring her not to say a word.
"Now Darcy, no need to be brutal. There's one boy on the list, a James Chen who seems to be a veritable all-rounder: plays both rugby and cricket, and plays the violin, piano and sings", stated Matlock.
"Ah. An accomplished young man though I've often heard seven accomplishments are an indicator of talent. Perhaps he is proficient in languages too, Latin, Greek and even Mandarin?" Darcy archly suggested.
"Which would make a total of eight. What say you? Not entirely a wasted morning?"
The two men reached the door of the audition room and stopped to continue their conversation.
"Perhaps. I do not wish my time wasted on fripperies and the ambitions of parents with overwrought imaginations when it comes to the talent of their sons," Darcy responded.
At hearing this, Lizzy stood up from the bench, walked away from the pleading eyes of her father towards the two men in their black mortar boards and gowns. The dumpy shorter one was Matlock who carried a briefcase overflowing with papers. The other was Darcy.
He was tall, athletic and carried a noble mien in his stance. He fulfilled the Anglo-Norman caricature that typified the imports of the Australian ruling class. His accent spoke of the English Home Counties tempered by some years spent in Sydney.
He had lightly tanned skin, brown curly hair with flecks of grey, and his rugged face could be considered handsome had it not featured seriousness and pursed lips as if they rarely smiled or laughed.
His eyebrows showed a slight shock of surprise at the approach of a woman who must have clearly overheard their conversation. She spoke first with her right hand out.
"Mr Darcy, my name is Lizzy Bennet."
Darcy slowly looked up and down at Lizzy at her approach. Lizzy was thankful that she wore her cobalt cashmere twin set, a string of pearls, black knee length woollen skirt and matching RM Williams boots. For her son's sake she wore clothes to look to fit in, but pretence was never her forte when it came to her old world.
"Good day Mrs Bennet. William Darcy, Chair of the Board of Trustees.", shaking her hand firmly and his eyes bore into hers before adding "Bennet is a familiar name."
Her hands felt the electric touch of his but she was too angry to pay attention to this. He felt it too and was taken aback.
She took a deep breath and exasperatedly corrected, "Ms Bennet if you please. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Your friend Charles Bingley is my brother-in-law."
At this, his face visibly relaxed at the mention of his best friend. He thoughtfully paused before saying slowly, "How is Charles these days?"
She archly replied, "I believe he is well but he missed you at his wedding."
His face tensed and a deep hauteur replaced the previously relaxed muscles.
Both Matlock and John Bennet were watching the exchange with some curiosity.
"That was several years ago. I deeply regretted my absence which I conveyed to him at the time" he said carefully, before asking her "what brings you to our fine School?"
She stared at him and looked at him carefully, memorising each of the facial features of this hateful man who wilfully misjudged James without even knowing him. She thought to control her words and they came out as a staccato.
"An audition. For my son. An accomplished one. Or so I was led to believe. Which I now deeply regret. Ambitious dragon parents you know. If you'll excuse me..."
At this she bypassed the two and quickly entered the room, looked for James, found him amongst the many other talented boys, and marched him back outside where Darcy, Matlock and John were still waiting, unsure of the events that were unfolding with this woman and her son.
Still holding her son's hand, she passed Darcy and Matlock, calmly nodded impassively at the taller one whose expression of surprise - or shock - had not abated and said, "Good day, Mr Darcy."
She walked back to her father and without a word or looking back, she headed outside the quadrangle, towards the exit and past the sandstone edifice and its gates.