by Kristi Rose
“You were gone… I mean at sea quite a while,” Margaret said quietly to Frederick.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, too long. And for all the wrong reasons.”
Jane glanced at Charlie, who happened to be watching her. For all intents and purposes, this could be their conversation, too. She met his gaze and saw sadness in his bright blue eyes. Was he thinking the same thing she was? That Frederick and Margaret had a similar story?
Charlie said, “I regret it.”
Jane stretched a brow upward. Interesting. So he did see the parallel.
“Yes,” Frederick said. “Very much so.”
“And yet,” Jane said, “not one word until today.”
Margaret briefly grabbed Jane’s arm, surprise on her face. “Yes. Not one word. Why do you think that is?”
Jane shrugged, shifting her attention to Margaret. “What reason would explain complete silence?”
Margaret gave a small shake of her head. “I've tried to understand and find I cannot come up with any reason.”
“Yes,” Jane said. “And that hurts almost as much as the leaving did.”
Margaret’s eyes widen as she rapidly nodded. “Yes.”
“It’s a man thing,” Frederick said.
“Yes,” Charlie said, his words loud and punching the air, “a man thing.”
Jane and Margaret snorted in unison.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jane said.
“And here we were all being so agreeable,” added Margaret.
Jane asked, “A man thing? What precisely does that mean? You had to go conquer something and drag it back to the cave?”
“And that can’t be explained before you leave? You just up and disappear? A man thing, my Aunt Fannie.” Margaret crossed her arms over her chest.
Jane said to Margaret, “Just once I’d like an honest, straight-up answer.”
“Yes,” Margaret said vehemently.
Jane turned back to the men. “I believe I even say that in my videos, how important honesty is. How it lays the foundation for the relationship, and dishonesty cracks that foundation. Did you skip that part?”
The men looked a tad shell-shocked, caught off the path and without a map to tell them which way to turn. Their glances darted between the women and each other.
Charlie looked at Jane. “There was nothing you did wrong. It wasn’t about you.”
“Yes,” Frederick added. “It was about me.”
Margaret and Jane shared a glance. Margaret rolled her eyes.
“It felt very personal,” Margaret said.
Jane added to Margaret’s statement. “That it very much had everything to do with me.”
“Yes,” added Margaret, “very much.”
“But,” the men said simultaneously.
Jane waved a hand between them as if swatting their “but” away. Margaret tsked. “Consider us skeptical,” Jane said.
“It’s a woman thing,” Jane and Margaret said together.
Emma interrupted the entire room by standing by the Solarium’s main doors and ringing a bell, calling for everyone’s attention.
Jane stared at Bingley, searching his face for something more, a hint of an emotion that would clue her into how he felt. Was he saying he was sorry? What did he want from her? All she saw was confusion and frustration in the thin line of his mouth and his clenched jaw. She glanced at Frederick who looked much the same.
Emma’s voice carried over the room. “I hope you all had a chance to mingle and meet. I’ve enjoyed it, but it’s time to move onto the next event. Before we start our games, please take this next hour to yourself. The library is down the hall for those of you who are staying in town. There is also a less formal sitting room next to it. For those staying, you have those options if you don’t want to refresh in your room.”
A pair of manservants flung open the room’s double doors, and Emma waved her hands in a way that told people to move on.
“Games, did she say?” Jane asked Margaret.
Margaret nodded and glanced nervously at Frederick, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
“I think I’ll go back to my room and enjoy the quiet,” Jane said.
“I was thinking the same,” Margaret said.
“I’m not looking forward to this,” Jane told her.
“Neither am I. I’ve quite had it with games.” Margaret shot a glance at Frederick.
“I would have to agree,” Jane said as she watched Caroline walking toward them. Jane turned to Charlie, wanting to say something more, to find words that might bridge the gap. She wasn’t ready to let him completely off the hook, but she desperately wanted to get over this barrier that stood between them. She wanted to know where they stood. Since he’d left, she’d felt stuck, unable to move forward, and she desperately needed to be done with all that. This last conversation, odd as it was and lacking firm answers, had felt like one step in the right direction.
Jane looked between the men. “An apology would have gone a long way,” she told them.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “So much so.”
Jane turned to Margaret. “I see my sister by the door. Come on, we’ll walk back to our rooms together.”
The women linked arms, turning away from the men.
Chapter Ten
Let’s begin the dating game! screamed the multi-colored banner hanging over the solarium's doorway. Two long tables, draped with pink tablecloths, were set up beside each other to make one long row. One side sported chairs with white covers, the other black.
Two butlers stood at the door and handed out thick white envelopes with a guest’s name and a number written in calligraphy on the outside. The guests were directed to sit at the seat with their corresponding number.
Elizabeth and Jane took pink seats next to each other. Anne was next to Jane.
“This is my favorite,” Anne said. “It can be really fun.”
Inside the envelope, Elizabeth found a stack of cards numbered one through five and two slips of paper. One had instructions and the other five lines, apparently for writing down the names Elizabeth might be interested in. The Dating Game was essentially an uppity version of speed dating. They were to ask the five questions on their card, respond to the five being asked of them, and then fill in the remaining time with conversation. The entire round would last five minutes, and a ringing of bells would signal time to change.
Cups of freshly sharpened pencils decorated with hearts were placed between couples. Elizabeth looked at Jane and shrugged.
“Maybe Meryton should add speed dating,” Elizabeth said.
“We can start with the locals,” Jane added with a wry grin.
Anne said, “Don’t negate it. It’s fun and gives you an instant gut reaction to some issues. I’ve discovered a few things about myself through this.”
Elizabeth gave the idea some thought. Rapid-fire questions made people answer instinctively, a strategy that shouldn't be overlooked. “Perhaps we should do rapid-fire questions during the interview process,” she suggested.
Jane and Anne nodded as if to say the idea had merit.
Elizabeth stopped talking when George Knightley sat down across from her.
“Hello,” he said to them all.
“Hello,” Jane said, “is Emma participating as well?”
George smiled and pointed his chin to the head of the table where Emma sat across from Darcy.
“When the bells ring, the white chairs shift to the left. The black stay as they are,” Emma called. “Be open to love, my friends.”
The butlers rang heavy silver bells in unison.
George raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to go first?”
Elizabeth stammered, “What? Oh sure, okay. Question one. How do you feel about public displays of affection?”
“Should I ever be in love with someone, I suppose not touching them might be difficult. I can’t say I’m for or against. Moderation is where I fall.” He smiled.
Moderation felt very unroma
ntic, if Elizabeth did say so herself. Not that she wanted her face sucked off in public.
“Why don’t you ask the next one,” she suggested.
“Alrighty. Do you believe a woman should stay home with the children?”
“I think a couple has to do what is best for them. If that means one parent, woman or man, stays home, then fine. I’m not so firm in the conviction of who it is because circumstances dictate, I believe.”
George shook his head. “I prefer if my wife stay home. Call me old-fashioned, but I like the idea of knowing my wife is the primary caregiver of our children.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to arch her brows. She didn’t see Emma Woodhouse as being the primary caregiver to anyone. Including a pet. Not that she was incapable, but her lifestyle wouldn’t allow for the time. A nanny would be the primary caregiver.
“You grew up with a nanny?” Elizabeth asked.
George shook his head. “No, but half the lot in here did. I can’t imagine it. They talk so fondly of their nannies, like I speak of my mother. It's bothersome.”
Elizabeth could see his point. “I suppose when you frame it like that, I can see your point. What if your wife was the breadwinner?”
“Breadwinner or already come to me with a hefty sum of money?" He shrugged nonchalantly. “Those are two different situations. You should read the question on your next card.”
“That is the next question.” Elizabeth smiled. Anne was right. This was an interesting and informative game.
She and George managed to get through all their questions before the bells rang. Elizabeth figured the minutes before Darcy sat before her. Forty-five minutes. It would be an eternity. Funny, after he was done with her, Bingley would follow.
Elizabeth met a few interesting characters, a broker with Coke-bottle-thick glasses, a shy novelist with a wry smile, and a trust fund baby with a receding hairline. She didn't write a single name down on her paper. She wasn’t sure if anyone wrote hers down either. Jane had a few guys linger that required the butlers to move them along. When they sat before Elizabeth, they didn’t bother asking her their questions but instead queried about Jane.
When Frederick Wentworth sat in front of Jane, the two bent close together and whispered madly.
The man across from Elizabeth, a race car driver, was more interested in talking to the girl to Elizabeth’s left. This gave her leeway to join Jane and Frederick’s conversation. Apparently, he would be facing Margaret Elliott soon and was thinking of making a love confession. Jane was urging him to apologize first. Open up about why he left unexpectedly and then apologize. Frederick grimaced.
“Grand gesture,” Elizabeth said. “That’s where you are in this relationship. You want her back, it’s going to take a grand gesture.”
“An apology alone isn’t one. Especially not whispered across the table. A declaration of love with an apology is a grand gesture. More so if you shout it out for all to hear,” Jane added.
“But in front of all these people?” Frederick shook his head.
“Do what you want, Frederick. But you’ll have to live with the outcome,” Elizabeth warned.
The bells rang, and Frederick popped into the seat across from Elizabeth. Darcy was two people away, and suddenly Elizabeth couldn’t concentrate. Jane was being questioned by the guy across from her so Elizabeth focused on Frederick.
“You’ve hurt her. She doesn’t trust you are who you say you are. Or that you won’t do it again. Repairing that will take time. Exposing a vein will go a long way.”
Frederick groaned. “It's the bleeding out I’m afraid of.”
“Aren’t we all?” Elizabeth said and thought of what she would say to Darcy. Should she take her own advice and open herself up to the unimaginable?
The bells rang again, and she wished Frederick good luck. A tall, red-headed man with a toothy grin sat before her. Darcy was next. Elizabeth couldn’t recall a single word the ginger said since she was focused on trying to hear the exchange between Darcy and her sister. Shamefully, her response to the man's questions was to nod and grin. When it was her turn to ask the questions, she paraphrased and tuned out his answers.
Apparently, Charlie was doing the same. Anne looked over Jane’s shoulder to Elizabeth and winked. She snapped a finger in Charlie’s face, and then once she had his attention, asked him a question that caused him to blush. Elizabeth made a mental note to ask Anne about it later.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the bells pealed, and the people in the blue chairs shifted. Darcy sat before her.
“Hello, William,” she said and tried to smile, but her lips shook from her nervousness.
“Elizabeth. May I say that you look lovely?” His eyes swept across her face. She was left with the sensation of being lovingly stroked. A tiny burst of pleasure erupted across her skin.
“Thank you.” She thought his smile was lovely. “There’s something I need to say, William.” Hoping to have as private a moment as possible considering the circumstances, she leaned closer. She pulled at the collar of her turtleneck. The room had suddenly grown warm.
“I like it when you say my name.” He looked away at his cards.
“About Wickham—”
“Which would you prefer a maid, a chef, or a chauffeur?”
Elizabeth lost her train of thought. “I’m sorry, what?”
He waved the card. “It's one of my questions.”
“Um.” Should she continue to try to thank him or answer the question? Being unsure was decidedly uncomfortable.
“Personally, I think a chauffeur is a waste unless you must use that time to get work done. But I’ve come to think that working eighteen hours a day is not all that great.”
“I, ah…William.” She made a second attempt.
“You seem like a woman who is busy enough that a housekeeper might be the best choice. Though I’m sure a chef wouldn’t be a hardship either.”
“What you did for my sister and for Meryton, William—”
“Next question. Technically, it’s your turn, but I’ll go again.” He lifted a card.
She read her card in a rush of words. “How do you feel about public displays of affection?” Elizabeth refrained from fanning herself. If only she hadn't worn clothes so...wooly and warm.
He looked up, startled. She waved her card. Her mind was on the one kiss they had shared on the front stoop of her house. No one had been around. Not that she could remember if anyone had. The entire moment had pulled her in and shaken her witless. She recalled the softness of his kiss. Oh, and her ire at him, because he’d sent Charlie away. There was so much between her and Darcy. Some of her actions she was ashamed of. Some of his he should be ashamed of.
“I’m a private man, Elizabeth, as I’m sure you are aware. But my love and desire for a person will not be contained by whether others are around. Assuming that love and desire was reciprocated.” His gaze met hers and held.
In this precise moment, she realized her feelings about him had shifted. In her mind's eye, she saw more than the corporate raider out to destroy small businesses. She saw a friend. She saw a man who'd given her the same dedication and loyalty he'd give to his closest friends and family. She couldn’t explain why he had done that or how she felt about it. She wasn’t even sure she understood it, but when she looked at the honest blue eyes of William Darcy, she no longer thought of his interference. The gut-clenching irritation she normally felt around him was replaced by butterflies knocking around in her stomach.
“Emma is trying to match you with Caroline,” she blurted, curious about his reaction.
William pressed his lips together. She’d seen this before and knew he was measuring his words. The gut-clenching feeling came back, and she rubbed her stomach.
“Our families have always been close. Pairing Caroline and I together for all eternity is not a new idea and certainly not exclusive to Emma,” he said mildly. His attention went to the top of the table.
Elizabeth shifted,
leaned back, and attempted to follow his path. She guessed he was looking at Caroline, who was watching them with a frown on her face.
“Wouldn’t you pair us?” he asked. “As a matchmaker, aren’t we the obvious pair?”
She couldn’t separate her confusing feelings from her instinct as a matchmaker. “Just because it's obvious doesn’t mean it's what’s supposed to be.” This sentiment was something she’d said before. “Do you think George Knightley and Emma Woodhouse should be together?”
William looked between George and Emma. “They’ve known each other a long time.”
“Should that be the measure then? A long-standing acquaintance with each other? How about Frederick Wentworth and Margaret Elliott? They don’t know each other. Or Jane and Bingley?” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Sometimes it's not about anything we can label. Love is about the intangibles.”
He leaned closer and their eyes met and held. In unison, they said each other’s names.
“William.”
“Elizabeth.”
Then the bells rang.
Chapter Eleven
When Charlie took the seat across from her, Jane was consumed by a myriad of emotions. Of them all, longing for his touch and affection was the easiest to recognize. They took each other in, and she tried to read his thoughts from his expression, but she no longer trusted her skills. So, she forced her eyes to focus on banner over his shoulder.
Charlie reached across the table and took her hand. Surprised, she pulled it back slightly, leaving him holding her fingertips. When she looked back at him, she found him smiling tentatively.
“Jane,” Charlie started, but nothing came out after that. Just lips moving without sound, as if he was searching for words.
This rankled her and she jerked her hand away. “Did you have something to say?” She tapped her index cards on the table.
“I—ah—” he stammered and looked away.
Jane tried to interpret his discomfort and failed. The entire day had been nothing but confusing, Caroline with her anger and snark, and Charlie with his bright smile, moony eyes, and words that teased. Words she'd once thought meant he felt the same. Only Jane needed more. She needed him to say it. Spell it out for her. She needed him to be clear and exact.