Jane and Bingley (Countdown to Christmas Book 8) (7 page)

“I . . . thank you.” She attempted a smile. “I’ll head back now.”

“Be safe. And watch out for deer.” He gave her a small salute and then thumped her car.

Jane took that as her cue to leave—quickly.

By the time she made it home, it was nearly midnight. She pulled into her parking spot and then picked up the phone. Eight missed phone calls from Charles. And seven voicemails as well as several text messages. Nothing like completely scaring the guy.

She scrolled through the worried texts and then quickly shot one off. “Went for a drive. I’m home safe. Please don’t call me or try to push anything. Will talk later.”

Jane grabbed her coat and purse and headed up the stairs. There, hanging on her doorknob, was a grocery bag disguising a box with six beautiful Fabergé eggs. Six geese-a-laying. He’d done it.

In another world, in another life—like yesterday—she would’ve gasped over the delicate gold filigree designs. But now . . . now her heart only dropped. How much had this cost him? And more importantly, what did he think of her when she got excited about such expensive gifts?

She sighed as she pushed open her door. The joy was gone.

Now there was only pain, guilt, sorrow, and shame.

CHAPTER NINE

Seven Swans-a-Swimming

At ten the next morning, Jane found a beautiful silver envelope taped to her front door. Inside was a ticket to the Salt Lake City Ballet that night to see none other than
Swan
Lake
. The performance started at seven thirty. Scrawled on a note inside of the envelope were the words—

Jane, I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you. Forgive me. Today is seven swans-a-swimming. Here is your ticket. If you’d rather go alone, I understand—please just text me and
I’ll leave you alone for the time being. However, if I don’t hear from you I’ll be the handsome guy in a tux in the seat next to yours. Love, Charles.

P.S. For whatever I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry
.

Jane’s heart melted a bit, but then the large lump in her throat came back. There was no magic here anymore. She just couldn’t do it. Maybe she was being a little harsh and intense, but the pain was still too real. She needed time.

Her hands shook as she taped the ticket onto the door and then locked it. As she crawled into bed to hide from the world, she typed up a quick text.

Thank you for the lovely gift. Swan Lake has always been a favorite of mine. Please take someone else instead. I left the ticket on the door for you.

A few minutes later, he texted back,
When can we talk? Whatever it is, I’m so, so sorry.

She replied,
I promise we will discuss this. I promise. I just need time (a few days to process). Please respect my space. And I’m sorry too.

He didn’t text again. Jane was relieved that he didn’t. But after an hour passed and he still hadn’t, she became worried, or agitated, or something. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she’d put some distance between them before she did something she would regret. Time heals all wounds. She knew that, and hopefully, after a few days, she’d be able to see his side of things. Maybe. Either way, it was time she let her mother know they wouldn’t be over for dinner that night.

CHAPTER TEN

Eight Maids-a-Milking

Charles took the ticket and replaced it with a vase of yellow roses on Jane’s doorstep. Grammy loved the ballet, and then spent a good couple of hours afterward at her house giving him sound advice on how to handle women.

“If she says give her space, you give her space!” She slapped the wide armrest of her recliner. “You men try to control everything and then you go and ruin it, but if you’d just listen, you’d know what to do. Now stop pacing like a caged lion and talk to me properly. You’re giving me a crick in my neck, looking up at you like that.”

“Sorry. I just don’t know what’s happened, and I’m worried, and I can’t seem to sit still long enough to pretend not to be worried.”

“Nobody said anything about anyone pretending anything. Now sit.”

Charles chuckled and sat down at the end of the couch to her left. “There. Better?”

“Much.”

“But what if she’s one of those women who says one thing and means another?”

Grammy shook her head. “Oh, good grief. There you go again.”

“I mean it. What if this is a test to see if I’ll come banging on her door and hold her while she tells me everything and I’m failing miserably?”

She ran a wrinkled hand through her short gray curls. “If you’ve gone and found yourself one of those girls who are all drama, be done with her now. However, from what I know of Jane, I’d say she isn’t anything at all like that. She’s frank. She’s sensible. She’s kind. If she’s asking for time, give it to her. The last thing you want to do right now is overwhelm her.” She pointed to his agitated knee bouncing in place. “Good grief, boy. Are you trying to pounce on something?”

He grinned and took a deep breath, then straightened his legs and rested his head against the cushions behind him. “No. I’m just . . . I don’t want to lose her. And I feel like I am. I already lost her once, and honestly, I can’t—I won’t go through this again.”

“You won’t go through what again?”

“Losing her.”

Grammy had the audacity to laugh. Hard. When she was through she actually had a real-live coughing fit. “That is the dang funniest thing you’ve ever said.”

Once Charles saw that she was okay, he said, “You know, I’d come over and pound on your back for you, but I think you deserve to suffer a bit for that comment.”

She found the remote and tossed it at his shoulder. “Hush, you. You’ll make me wake up Grandpa. Besides, it’s true, though. You don’t know it yet, but you’re so besotted that if Jane Bennet wanted to be lost to you, you’d darn well wait for her over and over again until you got her back. Don’t make rash blanket statements like saying you won’t go through this again. You will. You will lots of times.” She leaned over and waggled her finger. “And if you do things right, you’ll be real grateful you did, too.”

There was no other person who treated him like Grammy did. He always felt like he was a ten-year-old boy being scolded all over again, but somehow, greatly loved, too. He could never deny the unbelievable love she had for him. He ignored the truth of her statements and instead decided to bring the conversation back to where it had been. “But what if she never wants to see me again? What if whatever happened is so awful that no matter how long I wait, she’ll never come back?”

Grammy shrugged. “Then you move on.”

Never. “What?” He sat up. “But I don’t want to move on.”

Her eyes met his, and she looked at him real hard for a moment. “Then you’d better pray she’s as forgiving as she seems to be.”

“But I don’t deserve it. Not really. I’ve put her through the worst of the worst—I mean, I doubted her loyalty and dropped her and . . . and… I don’t deserve anything good from her.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “That’s what worries me most. She’ll realize just how awful I treated her and decide she’s worth so much more than that. Because she is, Grammy. She so is.”

“Chazz, you’re a good man. You have a kind heart. And you’ve been jaded many times by women who weren’t what you thought they were. Yes, you made a mistake with this one, but any woman worth her weight in gold will see the real you. You two have gotten off to a rocky start, but you know what? I think you’ll be okay. Stop worrying about what you can’t control. Just remember, you really have no idea what’s going on with her, and it’s okay. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just be there. Be there and be willing to listen when she’s ready to talk, and she’ll appreciate you so much for it. I promise.”

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’ll stop stressing and let things settle on their own.” He glanced up. “But what about the other gifts I have for her?”

“Well, give them. Don’t stop that. Besides, it lets her see that you’re still there and thinking of her.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

“Charles, someone close to her could’ve passed on. She might’ve lost her job at work. You never know what’s going on. Give her space. It’ll be fine. Let her mourn whatever she’s mourning and when she’s ready to speak, she said she will—so she will. You have no reason to believe anything else. Nothing has shown that she’s walking away from you. This is all crazy talk. Stop. And let it be.”

Charles suddenly stood up and kissed her cheek. He needed to think. “Thank you, Grammy. You make everything better.”

“Good. Now go get some sleep. I for one am exhausted, and I know you are too.”

He chuckled wearily. “Yes, ma’am.” He collected his coat and waved his hand as she began to rise. “No, no, stay and watch your late-night shows. I know how much you love them. You don’t need to see me to the door. I love you. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek once more before letting himself out.

“Stay out of trouble, you rascal!” she hollered after him as the door shut.

Charles rehashed his grandma’s advice as he headed home. There was no reason to get worked up about never seeing Jane again, or to feel upset because she wouldn’t speak to him. This was Jane’s call, not his. He didn’t like the idea of waiting, but if that’s what Jane needed, then he’d buck up and do it.

The next morning, he collected his basket of eight different locally crafted artisan milk soaps and lotions and set them in a bag outside her door with a note. He wished he could knock and see her—he missed that pretty smile. He hesitated, but Grammy’s words began to ring through his head, and common sense prevailed. Charles was amazed at how lonely his heart could feel in the past two days without her. Why was it that it took him doing something stupid before he realized how much in love with Jane he actually was?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nine Ladies Dancing

On the ninth day of Christmas, Jane opened her door for a brisk walk around the complex and found an invitation to a masquerade charity ball for that night. The beautiful silver calligraphy made her burst into tears all over again. A ball! Her whole life, she’d wanted to be invited to a ball, and now she was. And . . . and it was for that night. All at once she felt like Cinderella, not allowed to go, except the only one stopping her from going was herself.

For the first time in a couple of days, her heart began to crack, and the tiniest sliver of warmth returned.

She was the one who couldn’t forgive Charles for thinking she was only after his money and didn’t love him. She was the one who was making her own life miserable—and most likely his too. Clearly, he was still thinking of her—bringing her the gifts of Christmas even though she was being stubborn.

But she
was
right, wasn’t she? She should stand her ground, right? Where was Eliza when she needed her most?

Jane walked back into the apartment and shut the door, and as she placed the stunning invite into the envelope again, she noticed Charles’s hurried note on the back.

Jane,

I’ll be there. Please come. It would mean the world to me. However, if you choose not to, I understand. And know that whatever is going on, I’m thinking of you…

Love,

Charles

Love.

Could a man love her and still think she was a gold digger? No. He couldn’t, could he?

She plopped down on the couch and then sat back up again. Wait a minute. Didn’t he already have a change of heart? He clearly didn’t think she was only after his money or he wouldn’t be here. The man was attempting to fix everything. But if she kept treating this as if they were stuck in the past, she’d never see what was really happening now. She was more caught up in her own embarrassed pride than anything else.

This really was just about her own forgiveness toward a man who thought the worst of her, but had since changed.

And then the reality hit once more and her heart grew just that bit warmer.

Everything
was
hinging on Jane. It was all weighing on
her
attitude and forgiveness.

The true question wasn’t whether or not she was willing to go to her first ball with him. The real question was, was she willing to forgive and overlook his stupidity? He saw her. He cared about her. And to keep being so stubborn, refusing to see him instead of allowing him to explain himself, was only hurting her more.

Why not speak with him? Why not allow her heart to soften enough to ask him what he was thinking?

But then a sharp pain pricked her heart as the memory of Eliza’s letter came back in full force. Jane tried to push the sadness back out, but it was pretty hopeless. The letter still stung.

Okay. Maybe she wasn’t willing to talk about it yet. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk about it tomorrow. If she had time to prepare herself.

Jane walked into her closet and pulled out the dress Eliza had given her. It worked for the dinner, but it would be perfect for the ball too. Even though he’d already seen her in it, it really didn’t matter—what mattered would be that she came.

But would she? Did she dare?

She glanced around the room and found the purple-and-black lace mask she’d bought herself for a decoration earlier that year, never believing she’d wear it. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the intricate beadwork and ribbons adorning it. It’d be absolutely perfect. Though it was just an optional masquerade, maybe she’d wear it. Nothing too dramatic. And then gauge his reaction that way.

She attempted a smirk and put the mask on. Then she held the dress up in front of the floor-length mirror in her bedroom. It was totally dramatic. But fun. She bit her lip and twirled from side to side. It was a ball. An honest-to-goodness ball. And with incredible eye makeup and an amazing hairdo, she’d kill it. Maybe for tonight, she would be Cinderella and surprise her almost-prince at the ball.