Promise Me This

by Kristi Rose

  She’d had more than enough of skirting the topic.

  More than enough.

  That's the phrase that whispered in her mind when she looked at Charlie. Three words that had hit home a few weeks back while eating dinner with Lottie and Bill. She’d overheard Bill say the same phrase to his wife Lottie when she asked if he needed anything. His response? He had more than enough. He had said it with love in his eyes and a satisfied, content countenance about him. Bill hadn’t been talking about food. He’d been talking about everything in his life.

  Jane found she didn’t share that sentiment. Her cup was not overflowing. She wanted more. And she was tired of waiting for happiness to come to her. She was going to take charge of her life and fill those voids. Problem was Charlie Bingley. He was her “more than enough,” and it seemed she wasn't his.

  It was now or never if she wanted the answers to her questions. When would she have this opportunity again? She glanced at her dating cards. “Okay then, I’ll go. My first card asks, ‘Do you believe in stringing people along?’” She met his gaze.

  Charlie’s cheeks turned pink. “I wasn’t doing that. Does your card really say that?” He reached for it, but she moved it away.

  “You asked me to stop making the videos. You asked me to consider a different job. Then you up and disappear. If that's not the intention of stringing someone along, then what's your definition?” When he'd asked that of her, she'd thought it was because he was worried about her safety. Now? Only Charlie could speak to his motivation.

  “I...ah....” He wiped a hand down his face and blew out a deep sigh.

  She shook her head with disappointment. “My second card says, 'You’re a bonehead. You’ve been excessively rude. Do you ignore it or begin to change the perception by starting with an apology'?”

  The tint covering Charlie’s face darkened. His lips thinned. “I’m very sorry that you’re—”

  She waved her hand to cut him off. “No, this is not about me. Either you’re very sorry for your actions or you aren’t. Let’s start with there. You took me on dates, you held my hand, and kissed my lips. We laughed together. You sat by my side when I was sick, knowing you might get sick, too. If anything, we were at least friends, and friends don’t just disappear without a goodbye. You never returned my texts. Or my email. That was mean, Charlie. Plain and simple.”

  He swiped a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m not proud of my behavior.” He held up a card. “My card asks if you believe in forgiveness and second chances?”

  Jane’s stomach unclenched, and her shoulders drooped slightly. “I forgave you a long time ago. That's who I am.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  “And a second chance?” The pink tint of embarrassment faded from his face. He leaned toward her, his brows upstretched, his blue eyes searching her face. A look she interpreted as hope.

  “A second chance at what? Friendship? Truthfully, that’s going to take some time.” She pushed back from the table and rose, desperate for fresh air to clear her head, not caring there were two more rounds left to the game.

  When she turned, she saw her mother standing by the other table, listening to some conversations. Jane immediately plopped back down. She didn’t want her mother to know any more than she already did. Jane had purposely kept Joanna out of the loop of everything. Though, in doing so had created a potentially dangerous situation, because what her mother didn’t know she filled in with made-up junk. Fact and fiction had the same definition to Joanna Bennet. Jane was not going to give her a thread to weave into something ugly.

  She faced Charlie but pretended to go through her cards, shuffling one behind the other, not reading the questions.

  “Jane,” he said softly.

  “So you worked with Margaret Elliott?”

  “Yes, on that charity. Are you and Frederick Wentworth involved? He mentioned your videos and how much he liked them.”

  She swung her gaze to him. As uncomfortable and awkward as it might be, she needed to see his emotions, not only hear them. “And you think that I’m dating him because of that?”

  “Well, the videos were meant to draw attention to you,” he mumbled.

  “They were meant to draw attention to the business. They were meant to speak to people about the awkwardness of dating, the uncertainty of putting oneself out there. And they’ve done that. Contrary to what you seem to think, they were not my personal dating videos to find a husband.” She crossed her arms.

  He glanced away. “They felt more like they were your personal videos.”

  “When you left for California, it was for business, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t you see, Charlie. You did something you had to do, but to me it felt like you were leaving me. I had to remind myself that you left for a job. Much like you need to remind yourself that I made those videos for my job.”

  “So, you do understand about my leaving?”

  “I understand why. I don’t understand your actions when you left. I don’t understand the sudden cold shoulder. And as for Frederick. My videos did exactly what they were intended to do. They opened up a dialogue. Frederick feels safe confiding in me his wants and fears. Look at my actions? Have I dated anyone that I met through those videos? Am I showcasing my own relationship on them?” She shook her head. “Truthfully, I’m tired of explaining something that should be obvious, and if it's not, then maybe people should ask more questions.” She leaned back in the chair and looked away.

  “I owe you what seems like a thousand apologies,” he said softly.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I was scared, Jane. I’ve never met someone who I connected so strongly with. I—”

  The bells pealed, and Emma called for people to switch.

  Jane and Charlie stared at one another. The tension between them shifted away, lifted slightly.

  It was a start. One she could accept.

  She nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jane knew that in order for them to clear the air and give her any chance to move on, he would need to be open and honest with her.

  Admitting he’d been afraid was huge for her. She’d been afraid, too. In fact, she still was. Now she wanted to know if they were both afraid of the same thing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bonehead. Horses butt. She’d called him those names. But it wasn’t true. He was far worse than that. Charles Bingley was a coward. Admitting it sent a flare of anger through him that burned so bright and hot he wanted to punch a wall.

  Worse than being a coward, though, was accepting his own complacency. He’d never wanted for anything because he’d always gotten what he wanted. Law school had been easy. There was no pounding the pavement for a job since he’d slid right in as Darcy’s man. Money had never been a concern; he’d had more than enough. Caroline’s difficult personality was, in truth, his heaviest cross to bear. Undeniably, she was exhausting, but easy enough to tune out.

  Bingley glanced around the room as most of the people filed out. Darcy came to stand next to him. He clasped him on the shoulder. “How goes it?” Darcy asked.

  Bingley, hands in his trouser pockets, shrugged. “I’m a bigger fool than I thought when we spoke earlier.”

  “How so?”

  “Honestly, I thought today would be…” He searched for the correct words, ones that didn’t make him sound like an arrogant and spoiled man.

  “Easier?” Darcy supplied, cutting to the chase.

  Bingley nodded and checked out the tops of his shoes, embarrassed by his confession.

  “Jokes on us, friend,” Darcy said quietly.

  Bingley glanced at the man he’d known all his life. Twice now, Darcy had implied he was having similar emotional experiences. Bingley tried to piece that out.

  “I have a question, and I expect an honest answer,” Darcy asked.

  “Of course. I can’t recall ever giving you a dishonest one for any question.”

  Darcy’s lips twitched at the
corners. “No. That’s true. Though sometimes I believe you soften the answer.”

  It was Bingley’s turn to smile. “Perhaps. So what’s the question?”

  “Do you see Caro and myself as a couple?” Darcy’s face was devoid of any emotion.

  Bingley snorted with amusement. “Never. I have never once thought you and my sister were a good couple. I’ve not met a man yet who I thought would be good for her. I’m not sure I’m capable of disliking anyone enough to saddle them with her.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Darcy defended.

  Bingley gave a pause and considered his sister. “No, she’s not. We both know why she is the way she is.”

  Darcy nodded.

  Bingley continued. “All things considered? No, I don’t think you and Caro would make a good pairing. Would a marriage between you two work? Sure. But it would be more of a partnership. Not a love match.” Bingley gave a start. “Do you even believe in love?” This was not something he knew about his friend.

  Darcy sucked in a deep breath before answering. “Yes.” He turned to Bingley. “Don’t you?”

  Bingley glanced at the door that Jane had exited earlier. “Yes, I believe in love. I even know whom I love. Unfortunately, there's no guarantee it will all fall into my hands nice and easy.”

  Darcy stuffed his hands into his pockets. “For you, though, there is at least hope. For me, there is only obligatory gratitude.” He nodded to the door. “Come on, let’s get this day over with.”

  With great relief for both Elizabeth and Jane, the speed dating was finally over. Emma ushered everyone out of the solarium to a large sitting room across the hall. The space was light, decorated in creams and various shades of light blue. Large windows brought in the outdoors, including the beginnings of a sunset with its fading light casting streaks of blues and yellows. Around the room, petite round tables and overstuffed chairs were arranged in small groups of four. The chairs faced one end of the room.

  Emma told them to sit anywhere. Jane and Elizabeth took seats with Anne and John Middleton. On each table was an assortment of cheeses, olives, hummus, breads, and crackers. Another small tray of pastries and a pot of tea were also set out.

  Once everyone was seated, Emma stood before them. “Friends, I hope you all are having a wonderful time. Remember, this is supposed to be a fun and lighthearted weekend. So, on to our next event.”

  Someone in the crowd groaned.

  Emma held up her hand. “After this, there will be no more games.”

  “Until tomorrow,” someone said.

  “Yes, well, that’s true, but at least dinner tonight will be relaxing and stress-free.” Emma winked. “Let’s keep moving. The point of being here is to see if you might find a partner.” She paused and made quick eye contact with Elizabeth. “Well, for most of you this is true. No one wants to go through life alone. Our next game is called True Confessions. The goal is to show our softer sides. Getting to know people is hard. Showing a vulnerable self is even harder. That’s why a committee of three will sit here.” She gestured to three chairs lined up in front of the crowd. “You will pick two names from this bowl, and I will supply one unbiased person. You will be asked two questions and then you are free to go back to your seat. I will go first to demonstrate.”

  Emma walked to the glass bowl that held strips of blue paper. “Oliver, would you please fetch Mrs. Bennett and ask her to please come take a seat.”

  The crowd grew still. Someone cleared their throat.

  “Mrs. Bennett is here as my guest. Instead of her writing made-up stories about us, let’s give her the truth. As I’ve told you all before, my goal is to take us off her radar.”

  Elizabeth knew some people were looking pointedly at her and Jane. She also wanted to warn Emma that their mother was in the business of selling exaggeration. All Emma was doing was giving their mother fodder.

  Mrs. Bennet came in, and Emma showed her where to sit. Elizabeth recognized the smile on her mother’s face. Joanna Bennet was feeling quite smug. Maybe it was because she’d been invited in to voyeur such intimate interactions, or perhaps she'd found a tasty morsel for her paper and was clutching to it with all her might.

  Emma drew two blue slips from the bowl. “I have Margaret Elliott and Marianne Dashwood.”

  The two additional ladies moved to the front and took their seats.

  Emma said, “If you’d like to confer a moment before you ask me my questions.”

  The three ladies on the panel bent their heads together and talked in hushed tones a moment before sitting back in their chairs.

  Margaret Elliott asked the first question. “Once you are married, do you intend to continue these sorts of parties?”

  Someone behind Elizabeth groaned, probably a man if the deep rumble was any indication. Elizabeth figured she could guess who it was. George Knightley hadn’t stopped looking at Emma all day.

  Emma said, “I suppose I’ll have to see how things transpire. I’m not sure the vibe of the party would be the same if I were married.”

  By vibe, Elizabeth wondered if Emma was aware that many people were nervous, anxious, and embarrassed. At least that’s how she felt. Bearing one’s inner self was exhausting and scary, and she wasn’t even fully committed to the event. Elizabeth tried to retain her objectivity, but with her personal feelings rising, she was constantly reminding herself she was here as a matchmaker. Not a love seeker.

  “Second question,” Marianne Dashwood asked. She was a pretty woman with flowy, long hair and a soft-spoken voice. It matched her personality. “Are you a dog or cat person?”

  Elizabeth sat back in her chair, relieved by the innocuousness of the questions.

  A few people applauded after Emma answered, and then Emma drew out another name. Marianne Dashwood was called to face the panel next, and she squealed with delight.

  Elizabeth was the fourth person called. With loins girded, she took two slips of paper from the bowl and read the names. “Emma Woodhouse and”—she hoped she didn’t groan—“Caroline Bingley.” The universe must hate her.

  Elizabeth glanced to her mother and then Emma. “I’m not sure she’s objective.” She pointed to her mother.

  “Hush, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet shrilled. “I’m a professional and able to be one in this situation.”

  Elizabeth doubted it. She glanced at Jane who shrugged her helplessness.

  The others took their seats, and they put their heads together to confer. Caroline smiled at Elizabeth as if she held all her dark secrets. Elizabeth smiled back. In a just universe, Elizabeth would sit Caroline’s panel.

  Mrs. Bennet crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. “Lizzy, dear. Is it true that you don’t believe in love?”

  Elizabeth rocked back but held tight to her composure. “No, Mother. That’s not true. Quite the opposite, in fact. I believe in the one.” She knew she should stop talking. Because what she had to say was not for this audience. It was for a private moment with one person in particular. “I believe everyone should have their chance at meeting their soul mate. That’s why I started the business.”

  She glanced at Jane and smiled. They’d been so naïve back then.

  “Hm,” Caroline said. “Almost sounds like you started the business for your own personal use.”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “Tell us, Lizzy.” Caroline had said her nickname with laced derision. “Have you ever dated a client?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. Technically, Wickham hadn’t been a client when they’d gone to lunch together, but he was talking about becoming one. Then he’d shown up and signed on with Meryton all while pursuing her. She knew she was splitting hairs, but being honest was important to her.

  She went to respond when Caroline cut her off. “No need to answer. Your hesitation spoke clearly enough.”

  The crowd began to murmur.

  Caroline continued, “If you are interested in dating Elizabeth Bennet, you can simply sign up with her little match-making busines
s. She’ll take you money and your heart.”

  Elizabeth spun toward Caroline and took a step toward her when Emma jumped up and interjected. She held Elizabeth by the arm and faced the crowd.

  “Now, please. Let’s try to keep this civil and fun. Let’s not waste any more energy on this silly topic. Everyone will just forget what Caroline has accused Elizabeth of. Lizzy—may I call you that?—please pick a name from the bowl.”

  Well, Emma hadn’t made the situation any better. As if anyone could forget it. They would be talking about it for weeks, and certainly her mother would print something scalding about Elizabeth’s ethics in her paper.

  On autopilot, Elizabeth slid her hand into the bowl and pulled out a name. She glanced at the paper, then at her sister, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Jane stood. She walked proudly to Elizabeth and squeezed her sister’s hand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jane couldn’t believe that one person could be so spiteful. The energy it required to be mean vastly exceeded what it took to be nice. From where Jane was standing, Caroline Bingley had the energy of a nuclear power plant. And she was just as combustible.

  Jane drew William Darcy’s name and Margaret Elliott. She fought the urge to trip Caroline as she made her way back to her seat.

  Jane faced the firing squad with her arms crossed, her hip extended to one side. She was not in the mood. The entire day had made her grouchy and overly sensitive. She wished she could retreat to an activity like reading a book or knitting. She was stuck, and every minute it became more difficult to breathe, as if the room was slowly closing in on her.

  Mrs. Bennet said, “Sweetheart, you are such a kind and gentle spirit. It's such a pleasure being your mother.”

  Jane interjected, “Just ask your question, Mother.”