Jane and Bingley (Countdown to Christmas Book 8) (3 page)

“I am?” She chuckled. “Well, come on in, and you can tell me all about it. Though, I don’t have a ton of stuff for you.”

She held the door open for him as he scooped up another wrapped parcel and then followed her in.

“Ahh, it’s so warm in here!”

“I would hope so.” Jane chuckled as she gathered up a few holiday cards on a small table near the window. “You can set the tree here.” After he put it down, she caught a glimpse of his red nose. “Oh, no. How long were you out there waiting for me? You look frozen.”

“Um, not too long. Maybe twenty minutes or so.”

After she turned up the gas fireplace, took his coat, and started cocoa on the stove, they sat down together on the couch, and he placed the second gift on her lap.

“There. Open it now, or the pear tree will never make sense.”

She gave him a funny look, but was too curious to protest. “Okay, but after I do, you have to open yours.” Tugging at the taped edges of the gold wrapping paper, she pulled out the small blue box and gently took off the top. There, nestled amongst soft white tissue paper, was the prettiest silver bird ornament. “It’s so beautiful.” But she had no clue how the two gifts correlated at all. She held the delicate ornament up and watched as the bird gracefully spun from its cord wrapped around her finger. In her confusion, she glanced over at Charles. “What does it mean?”

One eyebrow rose, and his handsome grin peeked out. “It’s a partridge.”

As if that was helpf—“Oh! Like the song.”

He nodded. “On the first day of Christmas…”

She chimed in, her heart beginning to skip, “My true love gave to me…”

“A partridge in a pear tree.”

He took the ornament from her, leaned over to the tree, and slipped the cord onto a branch. “There. The first day of Christmas.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “But it’s not the first day of Christmas—it’s the last.”

“You’re wrong. In the olden days, this is how England celebrated Christmas.”

She gave him a funny look and glanced back at the tree. “Are you serious? The twelve days of Christmas actually started on Christmas Day?”

“Yep.” He looked mighty smug, and then moved a bit closer. “The first day of Christmas was actually the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth, depending on your family traditions. Then on Boxing Day, they would box up or wrap up all of the gifts to take around to their neighbors and family beginning the second day of Christmas. Some homes had a gift or celebration for every day of Christmas running all the way until January fifth—or sixth—and on Twelfth Night, they’d have a big feast.”

“I had no idea. But I don’t understand. Why would you go to all the trouble?”

“Because I should. Because you’re worth it. To make up for all the days I’ve missed.” He clasped his hands together and took a deep breath, then glanced up at her. “The thing is, I realized I screwed up the other day—actually, long before that. I sort of ruined us before we really had a chance to begin. And I know how much you love Jane Austen and that simpler lifestyle, and I don’t know—I thought I’d be the first man to give you a real traditional Christmas.”

My true love? The words of the carol rang through her mind, but she didn’t have the guts to say them out loud. “So, are you saying you’re going to give me gifts each day until January, or something?”

“Not just any gift!” He sat up straighter. “But the words of the song. I’ve decided that if you’re ever going to believe me and see that I’m serious about us, I’d better do things right. Besides, who wouldn’t want to spread this amazing holiday out just a little bit longer?”

“But I only have one present for you.”

“Then save it until Twelfth Night.” He smiled as if that would make everything all right.

CHAPTER FOUR

Two Turtle Doves

Charles whistled the whole drive home that night. Jane had successfully—after many failed attempts—gotten it out of him that all of this was Grammy’s idea, but he didn’t care. The stunned look on her face was worth every second of the surprise. Every. Darn. Freezing. Second it took waiting for her to come home.

He took a deep breath as he pulled into his driveway. Man, he loved that woman. Everything about her warmed him. She fit so well, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to go this long without mending their relationship. Now to get her to trust him and forgive him for breaking her heart … and hopefully, just hopefully, they’d have perfection again.

* * *

He had arranged to meet up with Jane at eleven the next morning. Since she was off work until the fourth of January—thank goodness for school holiday breaks!—it gave him a complete advantage. They could make their plans at any time during the day, and he basically had her all to himself. This time, as he walked into her door, he carried a large Christmas bag with tissue paper and a bow on it.

“What’s that?” Jane chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you have two poor doves in that bag. Please.”

Charles walked all the way into her kitchen and set the gift down on her table. “And who wouldn’t love two turtle doves?”

“Uh, me.” She grinned and accepted the hug he gave her. “How are you doing today?”

“Well, I was good until you completely broke my heart. I can’t believe you’ve already rejected my gift before you’ve even opened it.” He unzipped his coat and hung it on the chair nearest him.

“I never said I rejected it. Just that I didn’t want two turtle doves.” She turned and pulled some sandwiches and potato salad from the fridge. “Hungry?”

His mouth began to water. “Starving. How can I help?” Before she could answer, he walked over to the cupboard and pulled out two small plates, and then went in search of some silverware. “How is it that I remembered where your plates are, but can’t remember which of these drawers holds the forks?”

She set the food down on the table—its bright red tablecloth contrasted nicely with the delicious-looking lunch. “Left one, next to the sink.”

“Ah! Got it.” He grinned and walked over to her with the silverware. “Next you’re going to be complaining that you don’t want French hens or laying geese, aren’t you?”

Jane scooted past him and grabbed a couple of white napkins from a basket on the counter, and then collected a spatula. “Don’t forget about eight maids a-milking. What in the world would I do with them? This place isn’t big enough—or for all that milk, either!”

He put his hands in the air as he sat down. “See? You’ve completely thrown off my whole groove now. How am I supposed to re-create this amazingly thoughtful Christmas for you if you keep seeing it in such a negative light?”

Jane’s eyes sparkled as she attempted not to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll try to convince me that the twelve drummers drumming were meant to be a good idea as well.”

“You know me. I think we should invite them to the wedding. They could perform an awesome drumline. Think of it—all lined up in kilts.”

“Kilts?” She sat down and began to pass out the sandwiches. “What kilts? And more importantly, what wedding again?”

He pulled his chair next to hers and held up his plate as she placed an extra-large sandwich on it. “Ours, of course.” There—he had to say it just to watch her reaction. Jane didn’t disappoint. She nearly dropped the sandwich she was holding. She might have thought he didn’t notice, but he did.

“Ours?” She laughed a little too forcefully. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to marry you. Don’t we have to backtrack a little?’

“Nah.” He smiled as he took a bite of bliss. Tuna salad. Man, it was good. After he swallowed, he added, “I figured after all the gifts and crazy amount of people I’d have to coerce into performing them for you, you’d have to marry me.” He took another bite and moaned. “This is so good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She put a scoop of potato salad on his plate too.

After he dug into the potato salad, his mouth was in heaven. “I’m glad you like to cook.” He took two more bites and then pushed the gift toward her. “In fact, that reminds me.”

“The doves?” She set her fork down. “You want me to open the doves now?”

“Of course.”

“But can’t I at least finish lunch before they flit about everywhere?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Who doesn’t love flitting turtle doves?”

She chuckled. “I have no idea.”

“Are you going to open it or not?”

“Yes.” She gave him a playful look. “Are you always this impatient?”

Was she serious? “Only when I’m desperate to please the most amazing woman on earth. Yes, okay. I’m impatient. I’m excited for you to see what I got. Now put me out of my misery and open the darn thing.”

She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair. Her lashes kissed her cheeks for a brief moment before startling blues eyes met his. How could he think for one moment that this woman wasn’t perfect for him? He was more than head over heels… he was borderline smitten.

Jane had such a calming way about her. Those tumultuous eyes were the only sign that her brain was going a million miles a minute. Her demeanor was so poised and collected—elegant. The word he was looking for was elegant. The woman had more class in her sweet grin than most women could ever hope to possess in their whole lives.

That serene poise was what first drew him to her during the holiday office party. She was so mysterious and quietly mature, she put all the overly bright, gossipy women to shame. As much as he was impatient when he was excited—so he liked to complete his goals. Sue him—he was also very much an old soul. His fast-paced work life craved peace. Someone to quiet his mind and settle his harried thoughts and bring harmony. He longed for someone to laugh with—not to mock others, but to find joy in the simple things of life. Someone to read with, to ponder life’s mysteries, and someone to enjoy a debate, without clashing, but to appreciate the differences between them.

Jane was that woman—and so much more. She was quick, but never quick to judge or speak. She took her time to explore a thought, and rarely jumped to rash conclusions. Everything came in stride. In many ways, those few short months with her proved to be some of the most memorable teaching moments he’d ever known. She’d quietly bring his own fears down and talk sense into him, showing him that the world had more than one reality. There was always another way, another hope, another light to be lit.

Slowly, Jane pulled the gift toward her and then revealed why she had put off opening it. “I really don’t understand why you feel the need to buy me so many gifts. I didn’t get you much—which you still haven’t opened—” She pointed to the room where he’d left the parcel the night before. “And now I feel bad opening yet another present from you.”

He shook his head. “Please don’t. We agreed to wait until the last day of Christmas, remember?”

“You agreed. I didn’t say anything.”

Was this really going to be a problem? “Would you like me to open it now?”

She winced. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just wish we could celebrate this together, and without you opening gifts too, I don’t think it’s fair.”

Was that all? He laughed and gestured toward the bag. “Open it. You’ll see.”

Finally, her curiosity won out, and she removed the tissue paper and peeked inside. “What?” He grinned as she pulled out first one bag of Dove chocolates, and then another. Soon, a bag of caramels and a bag of pecans joined them. “What is this?”

“Two turtle doves, of course.”

It took her a moment, puzzling over the four bags before her face lit up. “We’re making chocolate turtles out of Dove chocolate.”

“Yep.”

“Together. As in, this was what you had planned for today?” Her grin was contagious.

“Unless you can think of something else…”

“No! I love it. This is perfect. And we can share.” She stood up and got two aprons, tossing one to him. “Put this on and start unwrapping those caramels! We need some dessert to go with that lunch.”

“Bossy.” What was it about confident women that caused his heart to flip?

They spent the next thirty minutes or so making a much bigger mess in the kitchen than either wanted to admit. “That chocolate on the cupboard doors has to be from you. My bowl is still perfect, see?”

Jane laughed and flung a chunk of chocolate from her bowl to his. “There. Now it’s messy too.”

Charles gasped and then saved the random chunk by eating it. They were going to create two huge chocolate turtles, but after several attempts, decided that a bunch of smaller ones would be much better.

They were. The whole day was as perfect as it could be. After they ate way too much chocolate, and then cleaned up their mess, Charles and Jane sat down in the small living room and talked and laughed and slowly began to dream again. His heart nearly tripled as she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him as he left.

“What time tomorrow?” she asked, her voice a bit deeper than usual.

“What’s tomorrow? The third day? Oh! That’s a fun one. You do have an evening gown, right?”

Her eyebrows rose. “An evening gown? Are you kidding? For what?”

“To get your French hens, of course.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Three French Hens

Jane shook her head as she closed the door on that exasperatingly smug grin. Charles was enjoying this all too much. As she walked into the kitchen, she found herself thinking about his easy-going manner that day. Eight months, and it was as if he’d never left—or even better than that. It was as if they’d been together all that time and had only grown stronger. Her heart skipped a bit when she saw his adorable attempt at making chocolate turtles. Ten points for trying. The man certainly was no Julia Child or Martha Stewart, but what he lacked in skill, he certainly made up for with his willingness and fun attitude.

She chuckled and then paused a moment. Just as soon as she had laughed, she began to cry. Without reason, those silly stupid tears began to fall. Turning off the lights, she made her way to her bedroom, curled up on her pretty white four-poster bed, and sobbed into her blue lace pillow.