Pride, Prejudice, and Push-Up Bras

by Mary Strand

  Finally, I made myself stop staring and found Jane, sitting alone. I claimed the seat next to her, then leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Do you know anything about Justin? Or are you too caught up in a certain blond guy we both know?”

  She jabbed me with her elbow, but she was smiling. “I asked Charlie. He doesn’t know why Justin left so soon.” Jane lifted an eyebrow. “But you’re forgetting about The Book.”

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s no way Justin is Wickham. Alex didn’t grow up with him, and Lydia isn’t going to marry him, just like I’m not marrying Alex and you’re not marrying Charlie.” As Jane blushed, I jabbed my finger at her. “You’re not.”

  Charlie reappeared just then. I headed to the kitchen, which was filled with heavy hors d’oeuvres and heavier desserts. Yum. I grabbed a plate, then returned to the main room...only to find the music turned off, no one dancing, and my sister Mary hammering out Elegy for Yesterday’s Roadkill on an electric keyboard. Lydia and Cat, both drunk, were groping circus guys and trying to drown out Mary with a wildly off-key rendition of “I Feel Pretty.”

  As I stood there, numb, Wild Bill sidled up to me. I tried to escape, but he put his arm around me. I jabbed him with my elbow, but he just pulled me in tighter. My skin crawled as I debated whether to knock him to the floor.

  Ugh. I might as well drown myself. I broke free of Bill, intent on finding a bathtub, filling it, and escaping my embarrassment forever.

  I caught a glimpse of Alex across the room. He’d lost that secret smile I saw earlier. I’d started the evening annoyed with him, and he probably ended it annoyed with me.

  I felt sick, right down to my bones. Poor Jane, cursed with one sister who hated Charlie’s best friend, one who should never go near a piano, and two more who should be locked up until age thirty, minimum. Despite The Book, Jane might never see Charlie again. I shook my head. Wasn’t this what I wanted? And wasn’t everyone’s family embarrassing?

  Maybe not this much. I loved Jane and wanted her to be happy, even if it meant tangling with Jane Austen. After all, I could still make it work out. Jane didn’t have to break up with Charlie and get a new cell-phone number. She could move into an apartment with me no matter what. And, no matter what, I wasn’t stuck with Alex.

  Bottom line, I’d deal with it. I crossed my fingers and, on Jane’s behalf, sent a fervent prayer skyward.

  She needed all the help she could get.

  Chapter 9

  “You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter Nineteen

  If God had been listening to any of my prayers lately, She didn’t seem to be answering with a yes.

  I woke up Sunday morning, felt the sun streaming in through my window, but was too depressed to get up. Some of the most embarrassing people I knew would be downstairs, most of them related to me. My stomach finally made the decision. Groaning, I rolled out of bed. From the upstairs hall, I smelled toast burning and heard Lydia and Mary bickering. Desperate to postpone the inevitable, I hit the shower.

  Ten minutes later. I emerged, smelling like tangerines, and trudged downstairs. I didn’t bother to futz around with makeup. My family didn’t expect it, and Wild Bill wasn’t worth thinking about, except to buy him a one-way ticket home to whatever rock he’d crawled out from under.

  As I poured my bowl of Lucky Charms and looked for the juice carton, Bill pushed back from the table and pulled out a chair for me. With a flourish.

  I grabbed a different chair.

  Undaunted, he stayed standing. I ate three spoonfuls of Lucky Charms before he pulled out another chair and sat next to me. Not eating, just watching me. I picked up the comics, held them at an angle toward Bill, and started reading.

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Bennet—Connie—would you mind if I spoke to Liz? Alone?”

  From her position at the kitchen sink, Mom stared at Bill a moment, then at me. When I rolled my eyes, she gazed at the ceiling and started muttering to herself. “I knew I didn’t like it when I heard their names were Bingham and Darcy. Then he showed up. But his name isn’t Collins. Why me? Why us? Hasn’t this gone on long enough?”

  From the sound of it, God didn’t seem to be answering Mom’s prayers, either. Which left it up to me.

  I frowned into my spoon. Dad was planted on his yoga mat in the living room, chanting “Om” so loudly I could hardly think, but everyone else was still eating. Well, except Jane, who’d finished breakfast just as I arrived and headed to the computer.

  Before I could open my mouth to protest, Mary shot to the piano, and Lydia and Cat grabbed their plates and headed to the TV in the basement. Mom wandered out of the kitchen, still muttering to no one in particular.

  I called out for Jane, who ignored me. Sighing, I glanced at Bill, who’d dribbled oatmeal on his chin. “Sorry, dude, but I have to go upstairs and study.”

  I pushed my chair back from the table. He grabbed my wrist and held on. Really annoying. “Liz, please? I just want to talk you.”

  I flirted with the idea of covering my ears and humming “The Star-Spangled Banner,” but I might as well get this over with. Thinking of The Book, I did see the humor in the situation. William Collins asked Elizabeth to marry him.

  No way.

  My laughter caught in my throat when Bill stood up, paced the room, then swooped back to my side and plunked down in the chair next to me, nearly splintering it.

  “Liz.” He reached for my hand, which still gripped the spoon. He leaned closer, giving me a whiff of the oatmeal he’d had for breakfast. Ew. “Can I call you Lizzie?”

  “No.”

  He grinned, unperturbed. “I’m sure you know what I want.”

  I gave him a blank look.

  “Isn’t it obvious? You’re so cute and, uh, charming. As if you’re not even trying.”

  I glanced up at the clock over the sink. “Could you speed this up? I have a lot of reading for class tomorrow.”

  “I know, I know. We barely know each other.”

  If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, Wild Bill had to be from a black hole. I would’ve stopped him, but he was actually amusing me. Even if Bill was the wacked Mr. Collins of The Book, I knew Elizabeth never married him. Oh, wait. He married Elizabeth’s best friend. Well, I’d warn Rachel, just in case this got really crazy.

  I heard something that sounded like a mosquito buzzing in my ear and realized that Bill was still talking.

  “I’m really serious about this.”

  When he reached into his pocket for what I feared was a ring, probably from a Cracker Jack box, I held up a hand. I’d heard enough, and I really did have a lot of reading. Besides, fate or no fate, the guy needed a shrink. Or maybe a total lockdown in a psychiatric facility.

  “Bill. Stop.” His hand left his pocket, a wad of Kleenex in tow, and he blew his nose with a loud honk. So much for the ring theory. “In case you didn’t notice, I never said yes.”

  He brushed me off, his wad of gooped-up Kleenex waving in the air. I closed my eyes and looked away.

  Turning back to him, I shook my head. “I hate to break it to you, but no.” I tried not to cringe at the thought of anyone marrying Wild Bill. “I’m not marrying you.”

  Amazingly, Bill just laughed.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Getting married?” He tried to tap me on my nose, but I swatted his hand. “I was asking you out on a date!”

  “A date? That’s all?” Okay, I admit it. I felt stupid—but also relieved. My life wasn’t turning into The Book. I was saved, and maybe Jane was, too.

  “So you’ll go? Like, to a movie?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, but the answer is still no.”

  He stood up, knocking over his chair in the process. “You just don’t like movies. That’s cool.”

  Before I could argue, or even throw something at him, Bill grinned an
d waved as he sailed out of the kitchen and, moments later, out the front door.

  Mom wandered back into the kitchen, blinking slowly, looking as if she didn’t know what hit her.

  I shook my head. “Good news, Mom. As it turns out, Jane Austen doesn’t know everything.”

  I finally managed to choke down my breakfast and regaled Jane with the tale of my psychotic suitor, for which she rewarded me with peals of laughter. Not that her men are exactly perfect. I mean, look at Charlie’s lousy taste in sisters and best friends. Not to mention his name.

  I went upstairs, buckled down, and got absorbed in my reading for tomorrow’s classes. I think Mom screeched my name a few times before the sound broke through my concentration.

  “Liz, come down here this instant!”

  I glanced out the window. No ladder to make my escape or trampoline to break my fall. With a last longing glance at my calculus textbook, I stood up and stretched.

  Moments later, I bounced down the stairs, halting halfway down. Wild Bill stood at the bottom, clutching a half-wilted bouquet of pansies and glancing nervously at my mom.

  Mom’s eyes bulged as she grabbed Bill’s arm. “I’m putting a stop to this right now.”

  Geez. Mom must’ve slept with her face planted on the pages of Pride and Prejudice a few too many times, and she’d woken up in the wrong century. I’d already said no to Bill—and to a date, not marriage. Didn’t Mom think I could handle anything by myself?

  Bill dumped the flowers on the front-hall chest and started jiggling his hands in his pockets. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “I just asked her out.”

  I shrugged. “And I said no. End of conversation.”

  Lydia poked her head around the corner. “Yeah? Thanks a lot, Liz. After you shot him down, he asked me out. And then Cat.”

  Mary, who’d been playing another funeral hymn on the piano, suddenly stopped. We all looked at her, guessing the truth: Wild Bill hadn’t asked her out. Sure, he probably hadn’t asked Jane, either, but Jane and Charlie were basically attached at the hip.

  I felt sorry for Mary, but Lydia hooted as she trotted upstairs and shouted at Cat. “You’ve gotta come see this. Bill is totally hitting on all of us. Except Mary!”

  I called after her. “Shut up, Lydia.”

  Too late. Mary ran from the living room, shoved open the sliding-glass door to the patio, and ran outside. Without a coat or shoes. In the middle of November.

  Dad suddenly appeared, and Mom’s hands fluttered. “Oh, good, Howard. You’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Far be it from me to let Bill ask out all of my daughters except Mary.” He turned to Wild Bill. “What’s the matter with our Mary?”

  Dead silence. Bill stared at the hallway floor.

  I finally spoke up. “Well, she’s freezing to death, for one thing. I’ll go drag her inside.”

  Just then, Jane emerged from the computer in Mom’s office, shook her head at all of us, and headed to the back of the house. A moment later, I heard her call to Mary, then the sound of the sliding-glass door shutting.

  Mom shook her finger at Dad. “Howard, why are you joking like this? Be serious. Bill keeps asking our daughters out, one by one, and I want it stopped. They’re too young.”

  “To go on a date?” I frowned at Mom. I mean, I wouldn’t be caught dead dating Wild Bill, and I was trying to avoid guys named Darcy, but other than that? I was definitely available for dating. Like, say, Justin.

  Not that he’d called or anything.

  Mom just ignored me. “Bill even went to the store and bought her flowers!”

  She flung a hand in the direction of the wilted pansies crumpled in a heap on the front-hall chest. Dad glanced at them, raised an eyebrow, and looked at me. I shrugged.

  He turned back to Mom. “So what’s the crisis?”

  She gave an exasperated harrumph. “I told you. He keeps asking them out. I’m trying to protect them, but you invited Bill here.”

  Dad screwed up his face, as if he was mulling it all over. I figured he didn’t give a rat’s ass, but it still bugged me that we were even having this conversation. I mean, whose business was it, anyway? Mom’s? Dad’s? Not in this century.

  Finally, Dad turned to Mom. “You need to quit worrying. Bill is completely harmless.”

  Bill’s face looked like he’d just swallowed a giant pickle, and I almost felt sorry for the guy. I mean, what eighteen-year-old guy wanted to be called harmless? As in, not even worth thinking about?

  Mom kept fuming. “Howard, I need your support on this. I want him out of this house.”

  Dad glanced at Bill, who looked like he might barf, and then frowned at Mom. “I’ve told Bill he can stay with us until he gets his feet on the ground. Now, please do us all a favor and get this Pride and Prejudice nonsense out of your head. Lizzie and the other girls can take care of themselves. Even if they go out on an occasional date, it’s not the end of the world.”

  As Mom sputtered and yapped, Lydia and Cat flew down the stairs, hoping to catch a royal argument between Mom and Dad. Jane and Mary came back inside, Jane’s arm around Mary, who was looking everywhere but at the rest of us.

  At some point in the brawl, I saw Bill quietly slip out the front door, looking embarrassed and muttering that it was fine, no problem, yadda yadda yadda. I almost felt sorry for him, but good riddance—even though he hadn’t taken his suitcase, and I knew it was just a temporary reprieve.

  Still. Good news was good news.

  I abandoned all hope of studying, so Jane suggested the Mall of America. After all, what else does a girl do after jilting a stud other than shop? Besides study, that is.

  We started at Cinnabon and, between mouthfuls of gooey heaven, dissected last night in detail. I’d just finished analyzing the Justin situation, backward and forward and top to bottom, when—speak of the devil—he pulled up a chair. I tried to swallow the huge bite I’d just taken without looking like a killer whale at feeding time, and I choked on it.

  Justin slapped me on the back, then started chatting, without a trace of embarrassment over the fact that he’d spent all that quality time in the closet with me four long days ago and then hadn’t bothered to call.

  How do guys do that, anyway?

  We told him about the party—well, except for those pesky embarrassing details like Wild Bill and our younger sisters and what asses they’d made of themselves—and I said the party basically sucked without him. For me, it had. Actually, I doubt Jane would’ve even noticed he wasn’t there if I hadn’t mentioned it, like, thirty times. I’m not sure she knew that anyone other than Charlie was there last night. That’s the way love is, I guess, at least for English majors. Engineering majors are better at counting heads.

  Justin shrugged. “I must’ve said the wrong, uh, thing to Charlie’s friend, and he booted me. Unbelievable.”

  We nodded and sympathized and slurped our lemonades, setting aside our Cinnabons for the duration, since Jane wasn’t any more eager than I was to let a guy watch her scarf down a Cinnabon.

  I finally looked at my watch and jumped in my seat. Almost three. Where had the time gone? I still had a couple of hours of studying, minimum, not to mention dinner and chores and the usual Sunday-night ritual. I hated to end my moment with Justin, but I finally told Jane we should head home.

  Justin asked if he could catch a ride. I wondered whether Justin and I could take the back seat of the Prius, but I figured that was pushing it. Next thing I knew, though, we ran into Mary, who made us an exact—if not perfect—foursome. The back seat was mine for the taking.

  Justin held my hand, playing with my fingers and whispering a few suggestions in my ear about what he’d like to do. I almost wished the drive home took longer, but making out in the back seat while Mary rode shotgun wasn’t exactly ideal. So I pretended I was thirteen again and settled for hand-holding and finger-playing. With Justin, thirteen wasn’t so bad.

  Two blocks from home, though, and o
nly about fifty feet after I caught Justin scoping out a tall redhead strutting by on the sidewalk, he suddenly asked Jane to stop the car. The brakes squealed, and he jumped out.

  He leaned in the window and kissed me. A quick kiss, but right in front of Jane and Mary. “Sorry. I just remembered something I had to do.” He shrugged, trying to look stricken and failing miserably. “See you soon?”

  If it were up to him, who knew? My hands felt cold, and so did a small corner of my heart that felt more like my brain. I knew I’d picked a hot guy, but could I hold him?

  Did I want to?

  I asked Jane to drive home, quickly, and didn’t look back to see if Justin’s sudden commitment was with a long-legged redhead. Biting my lip, I realized I didn’t want to know.

  A minute later, we arrived home, where Jane booted up the computer. A startled screech came out of her mouth, and—just like that—all my worries about Justin flew out the window.

  “It’s from Stephanie Bingham.”

  “I see that.” I peeked at the screen and wondered again why Stephanie never picked up the phone.

  Jane started reading out loud, her voice cracking.

  From:steph69@nyhiplife.com

  To:jane.b@mail4u.net

  We’re off! Everything is rush rush rush, and Alex and I are frantically packing. (Or I’m packing. Alex is on his phone.) Back to New York! With Charlie’s deal here almost done, he left yesterday, hot to hook up with a certain someone. So we’re outta here. I’ll miss you!

  ~ Stephanie

  As Jane finished reading, her head slumped forward.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “Just call Charlie. Or email him. You have his email address, right?”

  She shook her head. “I just have Stephanie’s, but I wouldn’t know what to say.” I’d know, personally, but a Molotov email to Stephanie might not be the smartest thing I ever did. “And I don’t have his cell-phone number.”