by Jenni James
The last thing Jane wanted was for the family to sit around eating lasagna while asking Charles thousands of questions, but she also knew her mother. If she didn’t agree to something like this, before she knew it, Mom would start stalking them again. And heaven knew, a controlled environment was much better than surprise visits from Mom everywhere. “Fine. I’ll talk to him and see what he says.”
“Perfect!” She giggled. “I’ll see you at five tomorrow.”
“Five?” How long was this dinner party, anyway? “Five’s a little early.”
“No it’s not! It’s fine. Besides, your dad likes to go to bed a bit earlier lately.”
“Sure. Blame Dad when we both know this is about you getting to know Charles. But wait until I talk to him! He might already have plans. I’ll call you and confirm tonight.”
After she hung up the phone, Jane could feel a ball of tension form in her chest.
Strike one. By the time she’d made it to Eliza’s, her cheery morning warmth had all but faded. Instead sat one big lump of stress—it was right there. In the middle of her chest. If she breathed too hard, it clenched her airways until it felt like she couldn’t breathe at all. Even her hands were shaking as she attempted to put the key in Eliza’s front door.
What if her parents did or said something to scare him off? Suddenly, she had flashbacks of all those horrid first dates during her teen years. There never was a second date. Her parents were just too odd. Her mom would bring out the baby photos and her dad sat silently, cleaning his gun. The total cliché dating ritual. It was her life. She lived it.
She shook her head as she walked into her sister’s house. How did Eliza survive Mom’s matchmaking? Obviously, she and Will managed just fine, even though Mom had been front and center through most of it. In fact, they returned from that trip with Mom down to Vegas, and their relationship blossomed. They actually came back engaged—or almost engaged. She couldn’t remember. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe her mother had settled down a bit. She could hope.
Jane pushed all those thoughts away as she watered the plants and tidied up the nearly pristine place. She was putting a drink coaster in the coffee table drawer when she noticed one of Eliza’s many notebooks she had stashed away. She pulled it out and found a pen in her purse. Maybe if she made a few lists—like for errands, and groceries, and bills, and reasons why she and Charles would work out—then she’d be less stressed. Jane was visual, and it helped to get her thoughts down coherently. It calmed her to focus on the good and not so much on the bad. Yes, she definitely needed to make a list.
She sat down and opened the notebook, positive Eliza wouldn’t miss a page or two from it.
Strike two.
This day was not getting better. On the first page of the notebook, clear as day, was a note written to someone about Jane. She hadn’t meant to read it, but she caught her name several times, so she was curious. It didn’t take long to see that this wasn’t a happy letter. Jane wasn’t even sure it who it was addressed to, and she couldn’t tell if Eliza was angrier at Will or Charles. It must’ve been one of those therapeutic-type notes meant to release pent-up feelings. One of those notes that should’ve been burned after they were written. It revealed a much deeper—no, shallower—secret than anyone had ever told her before.
Jane’s heart dropped, and she could feel a deep shadow overwhelm the knot of tension in her chest.
Eliza was defending her, it seemed. It was written months ago in response to a conversation she’d had, or something… It was backwards to get only half the story, but the half she read was awful.
Seriously? Will Darcy thought Jane was only after Charles’s money? And all her feelings were an act, because she didn’t love him at all? Was Will kidding? Was this some sort of twisted joke? That was the real reason Charles bailed on her—not because they’d gotten too close, but because his friend warned him about her. And Charles—the coward—bolted without asking her, clarifying—nothing. Just suddenly gone.
Jane ripped the letter out of the notebook and crumpled it up.
All at once, his departure made so much more sense. Mortification overwhelmed her, and she felt like she was going to be sick.
So it wasn’t until her sister found out from Will, and then she came to Jane’s defense, that either man realized they might’ve been wrong?
It was completely insulting. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face, even though now things were fine. Now they knew she wasn’t after his money, so Charles finally deemed her worthy again. Anger replaced the sickness, and suddenly, she didn’t want to be anywhere near Charles Bingley anymore.
She stormed out of the house and into her car. She was all the way to the I-15 and heading south before she realized what she was doing. She should’ve turned around and headed back, but she just didn’t care. Instead, she drove blindly for some time as she thought about how ridiculous this was. Charles knew her! Charles should’ve known better! And Will? The whole time he was falling for Eliza, he was concerned about Jane? What kind of nonsense was that? How could he find fault with one sister for growing up with less money, but not the other?
The gall of him!
She didn’t know who irritated her more, Charles or Will—but one thing was certain. She was going to need some serious time to process this. All at once, she felt so, so cheap or—or used—or something. She didn’t know. She felt unwanted and cared about and … small and insignificant again.
The helplessness, the fury, the pain … it was all back, except the pain was sharper this time, much more noticeable. This time, she finally had the answer that clicked everything into place. This time, she knew the truth. The man she was falling head over heels for was clearly only here because her sister convinced him Jane was okay to date. Seriously?
Didn’t her own merits mean anything to anyone? Jane wanted to shout in frustration.
Why couldn’t people see the real her? Why couldn’t even the man she loved be loyal enough not to not fall for every rumor or observation someone else made? And who would think she was shallow enough only to love a man for his money? Did Charles never think that maybe she enjoyed his company too? His humor, his personality, his likes, his dislikes…? After all her years of not finding the right guy, did he honestly believe she’d only seen him as an object?
Even if things were different, could she trust that they had changed? What if he became paranoid again every time she mentioned money? Who could live like that? Urgh!
She banged her fist against the steering wheel and was shocked when she felt something wet hit the top of her hand. It was then that she realized she was crying. She’d been so angry, she’d hadn’t noticed. Wiping at her tears, she drove on.
It had to have been at least an hour or two before the phone began to ring. Jane pulled over into a little town called Nephi and coasted into a gas station. She looked down at the phone—speak of the devil. Charles must be at her house. There was no way she could talk rationally right now. He’d have to pay her to answer—since she needed his money so much! Once the phone stopped ringing, she turned it off.
Taking in her surroundings, she decided to fuel up and stay away for a while. It was time for a real break, anyway. She had a lot to sort out.
Without any clear direction, Jane headed east and came to an even smaller town than Nephi. She didn’t catch the name of it, but decided to drive around. It was gorgeous in its snowy all-white state—old Edwardian and Victorian homes with cozy fireplaces added to the ambiance of peace. They had even more snow than Salt Lake. She found a large park and stopped the car as she watched a few children sledding on the nearest hill. Their giggles brought her to the reality that she was very far away from home, but in the next moment, she realized that it didn’t matter. This was so much better than home anyway.
This was peace.
She cried then. Great big frustrated tears joined each other down her cheeks. So this was why he wanted to end everything, and this was why he was so willing to do anything he coul
d to “win” her back. Charles felt guilty for thinking so low of her. But honestly—honestly—if Eliza hadn’t defended her, he’d still feel the same way. She rested her head on the steering wheel. He never would have seen her for who she was. Ever. And that broke her heart most of all.
Why? Why did Charles matter so much, anyway? Why was she even trying to care for a man who only listened to what others thought? Despite his gifts and effort—what did it matter? Wouldn’t she rather have someone who stood up for her, someone who missed her, someone who wasn’t so willing to judge her?
Was she that hard to love all on her own?
Maybe she didn’t deserve to be happy and have true love and marriage and a family and all that. Maybe she just wasn’t the type of girl who …
The last thing Jane remembered was that crying gave her a headache, and she really shouldn’t do it.
By the time she’d woken up, it was dark and cold, and the children had gone home. In confusion, Jane popped her chair up—she must have laid it back when she was crying—and then screamed when she saw a light in her window.
Then someone knocked, startling her again.
“Ma’am, can you open your window, please?” It looked like a police officer.
Jane started the car, cranked up the heater, and glided the window down. “Sorry.”
“Are you all right?” he asked. “I’ve had some reports that you were out here in the cold. Do you need anything?”
Her head was pounding and her neck was sore, and that light was really, really bright. “No. Sorry. I was thinking and must have dozed off.”
“Are you here visiting anyone?”
“Um, no. I just happened upon this town as I was driving from Nephi.”
The officer looked concerned. “There are some nice hotels down in Ephraim, or even back in Nephi—if you’d prefer.”
How humiliating. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “No. I’m fine. I’ll go ahead and get back on the road. It’s time I went home anyway. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, or worry anyone. But I’m fine now. I’ll . . . I’ll leave. Thank you for waking me.”
“Well, definitely didn’t want you freezing out here in your car on a night like tonight.”
Jane laughed nervously. “Yeah. Again, I’m sorry.” The town must have thought she was crazy.
“No worries. Just checking in on you.” He pointed toward the nearest road. “If you go right and follow that road, you’ll hit the main street. Then take a left, and you’ll be back on your way to Nephi.”
“I . . . thank you.” She attempted a smile. “I’ll head back now.”
“Be safe. And watch out for deer.” He gave her a small salute and then thumped her car.
Jane took that as her cue to leave—quickly.
By the time she made it home, it was nearly midnight. She pulled into her parking spot and then picked up the phone. Eight missed phone calls from Charles. And seven voicemails as well as several text messages. Nothing like completely scaring the guy.
She scrolled through the worried texts and then quickly shot one off. “Went for a drive. I’m home safe. Please don’t call me or try to push anything. Will talk later.”
Jane grabbed her coat and purse and headed up the stairs. There, hanging on her doorknob, was a grocery bag disguising a box with six beautiful Fabergé eggs. Six geese-a-laying. He’d done it.
In another world, in another life—like yesterday—she would’ve gasped over the delicate gold filigree designs. But now . . . now her heart only dropped. How much had this cost him? And more importantly, what did he think of her when she got excited about such expensive gifts?
She sighed as she pushed open her door. The joy was gone.
Now there was only pain, guilt, sorrow, and shame.
CHAPTER NINE
Seven Swans-a-Swimming
At ten the next morning, Jane found a beautiful silver envelope taped to her front door. Inside was a ticket to the Salt Lake City Ballet that night to see none other than Swan Lake. The performance started at seven thirty. Scrawled on a note inside of the envelope were the words—
Jane, I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you. Forgive me. Today is seven swans-a-swimming. Here is your ticket. If you’d rather go alone, I understand—please just text me and I’ll leave you alone for the time being. However, if I don’t hear from you I’ll be the handsome guy in a tux in the seat next to yours. Love, Charles.
P.S. For whatever I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.
Jane’s heart melted a bit, but then the large lump in her throat came back. There was no magic here anymore. She just couldn’t do it. Maybe she was being a little harsh and intense, but the pain was still too real. She needed time.
Her hands shook as she taped the ticket onto the door and then locked it. As she crawled into bed to hide from the world, she typed up a quick text.
Thank you for the lovely gift. Swan Lake has always been a favorite of mine. Please take someone else instead. I left the ticket on the door for you.
A few minutes later, he texted back, When can we talk? Whatever it is, I’m so, so sorry.
She replied, I promise we will discuss this. I promise. I just need time (a few days to process). Please respect my space. And I’m sorry too.
He didn’t text again. Jane was relieved that he didn’t. But after an hour passed and he still hadn’t, she became worried, or agitated, or something. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she’d put some distance between them before she did something she would regret. Time heals all wounds. She knew that, and hopefully, after a few days, she’d be able to see his side of things. Maybe. Either way, it was time she let her mother know they wouldn’t be over for dinner that night.
CHAPTER TEN
Eight Maids-a-Milking
Charles took the ticket and replaced it with a vase of yellow roses on Jane’s doorstep. Grammy loved the ballet, and then spent a good couple of hours afterward at her house giving him sound advice on how to handle women.
“If she says give her space, you give her space!” She slapped the wide armrest of her recliner. “You men try to control everything and then you go and ruin it, but if you’d just listen, you’d know what to do. Now stop pacing like a caged lion and talk to me properly. You’re giving me a crick in my neck, looking up at you like that.”
“Sorry. I just don’t know what’s happened, and I’m worried, and I can’t seem to sit still long enough to pretend not to be worried.”
“Nobody said anything about anyone pretending anything. Now sit.”
Charles chuckled and sat down at the end of the couch to her left. “There. Better?”
“Much.”
“But what if she’s one of those women who says one thing and means another?”
Grammy shook her head. “Oh, good grief. There you go again.”
“I mean it. What if this is a test to see if I’ll come banging on her door and hold her while she tells me everything and I’m failing miserably?”
She ran a wrinkled hand through her short gray curls. “If you’ve gone and found yourself one of those girls who are all drama, be done with her now. However, from what I know of Jane, I’d say she isn’t anything at all like that. She’s frank. She’s sensible. She’s kind. If she’s asking for time, give it to her. The last thing you want to do right now is overwhelm her.” She pointed to his agitated knee bouncing in place. “Good grief, boy. Are you trying to pounce on something?”
He grinned and took a deep breath, then straightened his legs and rested his head against the cushions behind him. “No. I’m just . . . I don’t want to lose her. And I feel like I am. I already lost her once, and honestly, I can’t—I won’t go through this again.”
“You won’t go through what again?”
“Losing her.”
Grammy had the audacity to laugh. Hard. When she was through she actually had a real-live coughing fit. “That is the dang funniest thing you’ve ever said.”
Once Charles saw that she was okay, he said, “You know, I’d come over and pound on your back for you, but I think you deserve to suffer a bit for that comment.”
She found the remote and tossed it at his shoulder. “Hush, you. You’ll make me wake up Grandpa. Besides, it’s true, though. You don’t know it yet, but you’re so besotted that if Jane Bennet wanted to be lost to you, you’d darn well wait for her over and over again until you got her back. Don’t make rash blanket statements like saying you won’t go through this again. You will. You will lots of times.” She leaned over and waggled her finger. “And if you do things right, you’ll be real grateful you did, too.”
There was no other person who treated him like Grammy did. He always felt like he was a ten-year-old boy being scolded all over again, but somehow, greatly loved, too. He could never deny the unbelievable love she had for him. He ignored the truth of her statements and instead decided to bring the conversation back to where it had been. “But what if she never wants to see me again? What if whatever happened is so awful that no matter how long I wait, she’ll never come back?”
Grammy shrugged. “Then you move on.”
Never. “What?” He sat up. “But I don’t want to move on.”
Her eyes met his, and she looked at him real hard for a moment. “Then you’d better pray she’s as forgiving as she seems to be.”
“But I don’t deserve it. Not really. I’ve put her through the worst of the worst—I mean, I doubted her loyalty and dropped her and . . . and… I don’t deserve anything good from her.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “That’s what worries me most. She’ll realize just how awful I treated her and decide she’s worth so much more than that. Because she is, Grammy. She so is.”
“Chazz, you’re a good man. You have a kind heart. And you’ve been jaded many times by women who weren’t what you thought they were. Yes, you made a mistake with this one, but any woman worth her weight in gold will see the real you. You two have gotten off to a rocky start, but you know what? I think you’ll be okay. Stop worrying about what you can’t control. Just remember, you really have no idea what’s going on with her, and it’s okay. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just be there. Be there and be willing to listen when she’s ready to talk, and she’ll appreciate you so much for it. I promise.”