by Kristi Rose
Mrs. Bennet grumbled, “You sound like Lizzy.” She adjusted in her chair. “Because you are so gentle, I've always assumed you'd like the life of a housewife. A mother. A match with someone like say, Charles Bingley, would suit you wonderfully. You both have like natures and pair marvelously. I can see that life for you. Not this corporate one. What do you see? Do you prefer to have a life as Charles Bingley’s wife or—”
Jane tossed up her hands in disgust. “Just stop already. Nowhere in what you just said is a true question. Just a bunch of assumptions and your own personal wishes of what you think is best for me. I’m so sick of all the assumptions. The only person who has never made them about me is Elizabeth, the person you all are currently making awful assumptions about right now without any further facts or knowledge about the situation. Everyone would rather stick to their own scandalous ideas because that is much more fun than the truth.”
She faced the crowd and continued, “During the speed dating, my sister had a question that asked how a person felt about public displays of affection. The question gave me pause. I’m a private person. I don’t want any attention on me. I’m very uncomfortable with it. Standing here before you is torture. A public display of affection is just as uncomfortable.” Jane maneuvered through two groups of chairs before coming to stop before Caroline.
“Some of you know that I made some videos for my company, videos on how awful dating is for most everyone. But these videos, they made me come out of my comfort zone. When people watched them, they made assumptions about me. Some being that I’m standoffish, or I’m looking for the best fish in the ocean, not just any fish. Some assume I’m cold, lack depth. But we will never know if assumptions are true unless we spend time getting to know each other. We need to spend time listening to the other person.”
She gave Caroline a final stare down, then turned and walked over to her mother.
“Your assumptions about me are wrong. I love working. I love my job, too. I love helping people find love. The same as Lizzy does. I don’t think of myself in terms of someone’s wife. I’m Jane. A person with her own hopes and dreams.” She spun toward the group. “My name is Jane. I believe in love. I hate crowds. I’m scared of getting my heart broken so I step lightly, perhaps too lightly sometimes. I have feelings for Charles Bingley, but he’s disappointed me in a way I don’t know if I can forget.” She gave Charlie a long, pointed look. Then turned to the crowd. “Anyone else want to clear the air about their assumptions or ones that have been made about them? Now is the time.”
The room was still.
Charlie pointed a finger at Margaret. “Margaret assumed Frederick found her unappealing. That’s why he left.”
Margaret gasped. “I told you that in confidence, Charles Bingley, you big mouth.” Her face flushed red with embarrassment.
“But you’re so miserable, Margaret,” Charlie defended.
Frederick jumped to his feet. “I only have eyes for you Margaret. I assumed I wasn’t good enough for you, that I didn't have enough money. I’m not like these people.” He swept his hand across the room, indicating to the others.
Margaret rolled her eyes. “What year is this, Frederick? That’s such a ridiculous notion. I want to be with you.”
Frederick rushed to her, dropping to his knee before her. “I love you, Margaret. I’m sorry for being a short-sighted nitwit. I want to be a man you can be proud of, and that concern has made me mad in the head.” He took her hands. “Can you forgive me?”
She nodded. “As long as you don’t ever do it again.”
Frederick swept her in his arms while the crowd cheered and applauded.
When the din of noise subsided, Darcy cleared his throat. He said, “Bingley assumed I knew what was better for him than he did.”
Jane glanced to Darcy and followed the direction of his gaze. Charlie was sitting to the right of the room, but Darcy was looking to the left, curiously, toward Elizabeth.
Jane experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach that confirmed what she’d thought. Darcy had encouraged Charlie to leave because he did not approve of her, and Elizabeth had known about it.
Darcy’s attention swung to her where he held her attention with a steady gaze. “I assumed you were standoffish. Disingenuous. I apologize for that. I have come to realize you and I are much alike. We may appear aloof. We may appear vigilantly careful. Yet, once a person gets to know us, gets to know the real us, they will find much more depth and an understanding as to why we appear the way we do.” He rose and walked to Jane. Darcy extended his hand. “Please accept my apologies for my inaccurate assumptions.”
Jane took it, a wide smile splitting her face. “Not only do I accept your apology, Mr. Darcy, but I’d like to propose we spend some time together this weekend and maybe begin a second chance of sorts.”
“I’d like that,” he said, nodded once, then returned to his seat.
Jane faced the group, hoping she and Bingley might take the next step forward, too. After all, her mother’s statements all but declared Jane was pining away with hopes and dreams of becoming Mrs. Charles Bingley. For the rest of the weekend, the partygoers would be watching any interaction she and Charlie had, speculating on what was going on, what had gone on, and what would become of them. Jane felt like a schoolgirl, caught sending the cool boy a love note and then forced to read it before the class… and him. Yet, she stood tall and hoped her expression was not showing the panic and humiliation she felt inside.
“Go ahead, Jane, and pick another person from the bowl,” Emma said, interrupting her thoughts.
Crushed by disappointment, Jane blindly selected a slip of paper from the bowl. It took several blinks for her vision to clear and see the name. “Anne de Bourgh,” she called, then walked briskly toward the exit, tossing the paper aside where it floated out of sight.
In the hallway, Jane took in several ragged breaths, desperate to sort everything that had just happened. So many thoughts about Charlie clouded her mind. Her heart ached, and the pain brought tears to her eyes and blurred her vision. While others were confessing their feelings, he hadn’t said anything about her. She was confused, too. Confused as to why a person as private as she needed a public declaration like Margaret Elliott’s. Confused as to where she went from here, Jane turned the corner and entered the main hallway, found she was alone, and faltered, coming to a stop beside the stairs. Was she planning to hide in her room the rest of the weekend? She placed a hand on the whitewashed wood to steady herself.
Yes, Charlie leaving had hurt terribly, but in that moment, Jane had secretly harbored the hope that he’d return, and in doing so would come back to her. Well, here he was, and apparently all he felt for her was regret at having not handled his exit well. Tears materialized at a rapid pace and Jane blinked like mad to stop them from falling. She would not cry.
“Jane,” Charlie called, coming around the corner quickly and nearly colliding with her, his hand on her waist to steady himself.
“Go away, Charlie” she said, pushing away then turning her back to him. She sucked back the tears, her anger burning off the residual moisture that clung to her lashes.
“Jane, please.” He took her by the elbow and slowly turned her to face him. “I’m doing an awful job of telling you how I feel.”
“You haven’t said anything, really,” she retorted. “But your actions have spoken loudly. I clearly see now what is between us. Nothing. I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable with misinterpreting your intentions.”
“What are you talking about?” He looked as shocked as he sounded.
Jane wondered if his shock was a pretense. She doubted so much about herself, him, and the time they had spent together, causing her to struggle to recognize the truth. “Just go away, Charlie.” She moved toward the first step, but he pulled her back once again.
“You’ve got it all wrong. You've got me all wrong,” he said when she was facing him.
“How so? Care to explain?”
“For starters, I
recognize that asking you to give up your job was extreme and selfish of me. He cupped his hands around her face and stared down into her eyes. “Jane, what does this tell you?” He kissed her soundly.
Jane didn’t resist. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her to him, kissing her again and again. He breathed out her name as he ran a trail of kisses along her jaw.
She was floating, all good sense about to evaporate from her. The heat of his hands on her back, the softness of his lips on her neck, and his strong chest underneath her fingertips were transporting her away. She desperately wanted to give in, to let bygones be just that, gone. She’d missed him fiercely.
She clutched his shirt. How could something that felt so right, so perfect, be so wrong? It was wrong, logic told her. The man had dropped her like a bad investment, quickly and without a backward glance. When he came back, his only words were about regret and how she had everything wrong.
Well, that wasn’t good enough for Jane.
Gathering every last ounce of strength she could muster, Jane pushed him away. She heaved a deep sigh, trying to catch her breath. “No, Charlie, I don’t have anything wrong. I’m not sure what kissing me is supposed to tell me. All it does is confuse me more.”
“Jane,” he exclaimed.
“Here, where no one is around, you kiss me again. In a few hours will I think that I imagined all this?” She swept her hand around the space and shook her head. “Is it Caroline? The person you’re hoping doesn’t see this?”
“I’ve been a fool, Jane,” Charlie said while reaching for her.
“Yes, yes you have. But so have I.” She dashed up the stairs and hurried to her room. After locking the door behind her, she fell onto the bed and dissolved into tears.
Chapter Fourteen
Today was the longest day ever, and there was still a dinner and after-dinner drinks on the agenda. Lord help them.
Jane lay on Elizabeth’s bed, an arm thrown over her eyes. It didn’t take a detective to know she’d cried her heart out. Every few inhalations were followed with a small hitching breath. Elizabeth didn’t push her to talk, simply gave her a hug. She knew her sister needed time, and eventually she would talk.
Not that Elizabeth felt like talking either, not after the humiliation of this afternoon. Perception was everything, and currently the majority of people at this weekend party perceived her to be unethical. Perceived her company to be a smokescreen, a cover for her personal mate-finding endeavors. Elizabeth stood by the writing table and ran a finger over the hardback book cover of Villette.
“I’m not above stealing Anne’s SUV and leaving right now,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Shotgun,” Jane said, raising her hand.
Elizabeth’s disbelief at their situation came out in a chuckle. “What an absolute mess.”
Jane grunted her agreement.
“Where do we go from here?” Elizabeth said.
“Bali? Anywhere but here.”
“Everything I hoped to achieve this weekend has gone belly-up.” All she wanted was to say thank you to Darcy. All she wanted was to breathe some life into her company. Yes, she hoped one day she would find “the one” meant for her and live happily ever after. Perhaps, subconsciously, she had been using her company for her own needs. The thought horrified her. Never, not once, had she ever knowingly entertained the idea of matching herself with a client. The question was, would she have broken that rule had she met a client she thought was the one? Naively, she'd thought being in the business of love would bring her closer to finding it herself. She’d never considered the ethics of that. Until now.
“I’m not sure I want to continue with Meryton Matchmakers, Jane,” Elizabeth whispered, staring down at the book, afraid to meet her sister’s eyes.
“I understand,” Jane said. “Bali does sound good. Maybe we can open some sort of shop there. Really change things up.”
Elizabeth laughed and glanced at her sister. “It means everything that you’d still go into business with me, Jane. I’m sorry about all this.”
Jane looked at her from under her forearm. “It's not your fault. You know that, right?”
If it wasn’t her fault, whose was it?
A light rap came from the door. When Elizabeth opened it, Emma stood on the other side.
“May I come in?” She was dressed in a long, sleek black dress with a slit cut up the side of one leg, something someone wore to an opera and not a dinner in their own home.
Elizabeth stepped aside to let Emma pass.
When she caught sight of Jane on the bed, she said, “Good, you’re both together.” She clasped her hands in front of her, her thumbs twitching against each other. “I’m terribly sorry about the second game. Your mother…”
“Yes.” Elizabeth didn’t know what more to say. “I suppose today was the first I actually saw how much she doesn’t approve of our business.”
Jane sat up. “And that we seriously want to make a go of it.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Only she’s a working woman. Why would us wanting to be successful be such an issue? It's something other than that.” She looked to Jane, and when their eyes met, realization dawned. Elizabeth saw it in Jane’s expression, too.
“Love,” they said in unison.
It was no secret that the Bennet parents were struggling, both financially and as a couple. Elizabeth’s mind reeled with previous snapshots of conversations with her mother. Now, some of her actions were beginning to make sense.
“I don’t understand,” Emma said.
Elizabeth sat at the edge of her bed. “I’m not sure I do fully either. Suffice to say, I think it might be her twisted way of protecting us.” How many times had her mother told them to find a different profession, one that had upward trajectory and endless men with deep pockets? Elizabeth was ashamed to admit she’d been so self-absorbed with her own problems she hadn’t been paying attention to what her parents were up to. All her life, their father had bounced from one money-making idea to another. Many of his ventures had been around farming. All of them had failed. Elizabeth supposed this, too, explained why her mother acted as she did on some level. Mrs. Bennet likened her daughters' entrepreneurial spirits as behaving too much like their father.
“Protect you?” Emma sounded incredulous.
“Yes,” Jane said, sliding down the bed to sit next to Elizabeth. “Odd as it might sound.”
“I don’t understand, but it’s not for me to, I suppose. I came to apologize. To ask for your guidance on how we should move forward. The weather has turned, and it would be irresponsible and unkind for me to ask her to leave. As it is, I'm struggling to make room for the other guest.”
Jane shook her head. “You don't need to ask her to leave. She can have my room. I'll sleep with Lizzy.”
Elizabeth played with the hem of her skirt. “It’s fine, Emma. This isn't the first time I've been on the outs with her. Besides, you shouldn’t deviate from your original agenda. If she was supposed to be here all weekend, then so be it. To ask her to leave would be asking for trouble.”
“Is there something I should say or do to help correct what she said about you and your company?” Emma directed the question to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I think it would come across as if we were trying too hard. I suppose the best course of action is to take each scenario as they come.” Elizabeth put her hands up, palms out, as if to say she had nothing better to suggest.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “It gives me anxiety when people don’t get along or are uncomfortable.”
“Me, too,” Jane said.
“May I ask you a question, Emma?” Elizabeth said. She continued when Emma nodded. “My mother said you counted on us coming this weekend. That you’re trying to match us more than help us as a company.”
Emma smiled and sat in the large overstuffed chair by the window. “Truth is I’ve been trying to get William and Charlie here every year. I’d like to see if I could get William
and Caroline together. But every year he turns down my invite.”
“Caroline, too?” Jane asked.
“No, funny enough. Now I wonder if she does it to make William jealous.” Emma waved her hand as if to brush away the words. “That’s not what you asked me. I was asking Anne…de Bourgh... if she knew how I could get William to the party. She suggested Charlie.” Emma threw up her hands as if to say Anne’s suggestion was a crazy notion.
She continued. “But Charlie? I’ve struggled with a possible match for him. I said as much to Anne.” She looked at Jane pointedly. “Until now, that is.”
Jane scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Emma smiled knowingly. “Mm hm. Anyway, Anne mentioned that the two of you connected in the past. I asked if you might attend, and she said only as professionals.” Emma chuckled. “I was fine with that. And if love should happen too, well, all the better, right?”
“Who accepted first?” Elizabeth asked.
“I had Anne tell William you were coming. He and Charlie reversed their decision and accepted my invitation. The list I gave to your mother had them listed, but not you. You hadn’t officially confirmed, but I was hopeful.”
Elizabeth mentally kicked herself for letting her mother get in her head. Emma’s explanation was easier to swallow.
Emma rose and smoothed the creases from her dress. “I hope you both intend to come to dinner tonight. Though I can understand why you might not want to.”
Elizabeth stood as well. “Oh, we’re coming. We just need a few more minutes to gather our wits.”
Emma smiled kindly. “Understandable. I, too, find I’ll be running a few minutes behind. Meet you at the top of the stairs in fifteen?”
It was kind of Emma to walk in with them. To show her support and make it known the sisters’ tardiness wasn’t related to them hiding out. After Emma left, the sisters finished getting ready. They pinched their cheeks, applied a fresh coat of lipstick, and gave each other a quick inspection followed by a thumb’s up.
Jane said, “We have nothing to lose, sister. Let’s go down and enjoy ourselves.” She stretched a single brow upward. “What do you say?”