Promise Me This

  Promise Me This

  The Meryton Brides

  Kristi Rose

  Contents

  Foreword

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Email

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Books by Kristi Rose

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  Foreword

  Anne Elliot is Margaret Elliot

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks for picking up this book. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I changed Anne Elliot’s name to Margaret. This story contains both Anne Elliot and Anne de Bourgh and it was getting confusing.

  At first I tried Ann Elliot and Anne de Bourgh, but the eye tends to not always see the subtle difference of an “e” and no “e”. So then Anne Elliot became Ellie Elliott. And that’s just awful. So I tried Ellen Elliot. Still awful. My editor suggested Margaret for the win. So, know I did not want to change it, but I did for the reading experience.

  Thanks for understanding.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kristi Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Vintage Housewife Books/KAC Publishing

  PO BOX 842

  Ridgefield, Wa 98642

  www.kristirose.net

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2018 Vellum

  Cover Design © 2018 Paper and Sage Designs

  Promise Me This: The Meryton Brides/Kristi Rose

  Formerly Titled: Meryton Matchmakers: Jane Adores Bingley. A Modern Variation of Pride and Prejudice./ Kristi Rose.

  Prologue

  From the journal of Jane Bennet

  September 2017

  * * *

  Why? This word floats through my thoughts and pops out when I least expect it. Like it's begging to be said. To be screamed even.

  Charlie has returned to the West Coast. From the way the others are acting—meaning no one will make eye contact with me when I ask about his departure—I don't think he is coming back. I also think I am the reason he is gone. I don't understand how a man can go from brushing back the damp hair from my forehead as my fever breaks, whispering words of comfort, to leaving without a goodbye. I don't understand how a man can look deep into my eyes, the way he did, and not experience the same full-force connection that I did. Did I imagine it? I don't understand why no one, particularly Charlie, will say, in the name of all that's good and holy, what is going on.

  I'm sick of the weird looks from the others like Elizabeth and Darcy. And I'm left to consider these turn of events with little to no fact and a hefty amount of speculation.

  These are my three reasons why I think Charles Bingley just up and left. I could add more but what's the point of self-flagellation? Isn't three enough?

  1: He saw something in me he did not like. And it was repulsive enough for him to get away and get away fast. So fast, common decency was tossed aside. The thought of this makes me sick to my stomach.

  2: I was, for lack of a better word, an experimental dalliance. Perhaps he's the sort that does this wherever he goes. If that is true, then my instincts need to be recalibrated.

  3: I'm not good enough for him. I never considered Charlie a snob, and he never gave the impression that he was better than me or that I was beneath him in standing. But then I never expected he'd just up and go away either.

  I expected him to have fallen as hard for me as I did him. I believed there was something between us. As if our two souls already knew each other or had been waiting for one another. I'd trusted him with my heart. All of it.

  And he broke it.

  Chapter One

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: Jane’s Video

  Hello Brother, please don’t delete this email without reading it in its entirety. I know I’m being a pain, but I only do so because I love you and want to protect you like you have protected me. I took the liberty of having transcripts made from a few of Jane’s videos. I did this because I want you to see what I do. The bolded portions are my doing. Read between the lines. She may say one thing, but between the lines tells the real truth and intention. I really wish you and William would rethink going to Emma’s party. You’ve never done so in the past, why now? Please don’t be misguided.

  ~C

  <>

  00:01 (camera clicks on and a blonde woman is settling onto a stool)

  00:04 (woman’s voice from behind the camera) Tell us your name, please

  00:06 (Woman on stool) Oh, yes. Of course. My name is Jane.

  00:09 (Woman’s voice behind camera) What did you want to talk about today?

  00:12 (Jane) Dating and the hurdles to finding someone you want to spend more than five occasions with. Even three occasions really.

  00:15 (Woman’s voice behind camera) Are you a client of Meryton Matchmakers?

  00:19 (Jane) No. I own Meryton Matchmakers. With my sister, of course.

  00:22 (Woman’s voice behind camera) Okay, go on then. Tell us what you think about dating. (Chuckles)

  00.28 (Jane) (Deep Sigh) Honestly, I find dating dreadful. A necessary evil, if you will, because if one wants to be married, then dating is required. For most people and cultures that is. Quite frankly, I’m awful at dating. I get flustered. I don’t enjoy the initial banter where people find out about each other. Like how many siblings they have, do they like cats, and why Thai is their favorite food. All necessary, but taxing nonetheless.

  00:59 (Woman’s voice behind the camera) What do you do then? How do you get around all that?

  01:02 (Jane) (Laughs) I don’t date. I find the initial process of meeting and getting to know someone often paralyzing. That’s why I’m making this video. To get past all that. The thing is, almost everyone feels the same way I do. It's not often you find someone who enjoys the initial dance. I’ve been in the matchmaking business a few years now and only once did I see a connection where the couple sparked immediately. Where something deeper, perhaps even on another level completely, brought them together. For them, the initial dance was irrelevant. Their metaphysical connection was all they needed. For the rest of us that’s unlikely to happen. The rest of us have to slog through those initial meet-and-get-to knows. Painful as they are. That’s why I’m here. To tell you that it’s going to be okay. That you aren’t alone. I’m here, too. Going through it with you. I’m as uncomfortable as you are. I dread it as much as you do, but if we want to find each other than we have to keep trying. Keep pushing through the moments where we are uncomfortable. Isn’t love worth that? Isn’t the payout greater than the cost to get there? I think it is. Do you?

  01:59 (Woman beh
ind the camera) What’s the solution?

  2:02 (Jane) There is no solution, but there are strategies. Ways to make getting to know someone easier. Of course, it comes down to how you meet the person you want to get to know. And deep breathing. I find if I remind myself to breathe and do so deeply, I can keep my jangling nerves under control. When I stay calm, I stay rational. Mostly. (Jane chuckles and smiles at the camera). But know this. You are not alone. I can almost guarantee the person across from you is feeling the same way. You are not alone. Here’s your homework. Practice taking deep breaths. Ask yourself if there is someone in your life you’re wanting to meet, but are too afraid, the thought of approaching them gives you jangling nerves. Or take a look around and ask why you aren’t meeting people. Maybe you’re meeting people, but not any that suit you. Ask yourself what you might be willing to do to meet potential partners, like perhaps using a matchmaker. Ask yourself what you’re willing to do to get that payout of love. I don’t mean something insane like join a skydiving club when you're afraid of heights, I only mean for you to consider how far out of your comfort zone are you willing to go. And don’t forget, you are not alone. I’m right here with you. This video isn’t a push to get you to use Meryton Matchmakers. Using our service is something we can talk about later. This video is about dating. The next video will be about icebreakers and ways to meet people. I should say here that sending pictures of your anatomy is NOT a way to meet people. It's how you scare them. FYI. So don’t do it!

  3:01 (Woman behind the camera) Thank you Jane.

  3:03 (Jane) Thanks and see you soon.

  (Screen goes blank)

  <>

  Please, brother, do not make excuses for Jane Bennet. She clearly talks about how she doesn’t like getting to know people. That the videos she’s making is to “get past all that”. These videos are for her personal purposes only. To find a man and have a great “payout”. You’re a smart man, Charlie, don’t be stupid where Jane Bennet is concerned. When she was getting to know you she considered it “slog”.

  Love you,

  Caro

  Chapter Two

  The mixture of dread and anticipation bubbling up from Elizabeth's stomach left an aftertaste much like sour milk or vomit. Or so she thought. She sat in the back of Anne de Bourgh’s high-end SUV and wondered how her life had gotten so far off track.

  Everything about her was a mess: her business, her personal life, her trust in her instinct. She was a figurative dumpster fire burning out of control.

  Two weeks earlier, she was sitting at Meryton Matchmaker's conference table with her business partners; her sister, Jane, the good pastor, Bill Collins, and friend, Anne de Bourgh. The topic of their meeting was on how to rebuild the company, slowly to sustain growth.

  Anne had said, “Emma Woodhouse throws a matchmaking party every year to kick off Valentine’s Day. I’m invited. You all should come.” Emma, a friend of Anne's since they were in elementary school, was often seen in the tabloids. But the papers, including Elizabeth's mother's, loved Emma, Elizabeth could not recall an unfavorable piece about Emma or the Woodhouses.

  “Not me.” Bill was the smart one. Plus, he was married.

  “It’ll be fun,” Anne had said. “It’ll help the company.”

  The company did need help. They’d grown too big too fast, thanks to the machinations of Catherine de Bourgh and William Darcy. Meryton Matchmakers was still raw from a mild scandal, a story William Darcy had managed to keep relatively contained. It was all the residual speculation and assumptions that perhaps had become more damaging than the real story.

  And after much consideration and nine days of weighing Meryton's recent troubles and state of fiscal affairs with the wisdom of the house party, Jane and Elizabeth decided to give it a shot. Nothing came from nothing, and at least the house party was something.

  Now, five days later, Elizabeth was in upstate New York headed for a Valentine's-themed party for the rich. She was not the rich. She wasn’t even the upper middle class. More like lower middle class. If the bottom line of her financial statement was any indication of her status, she was barely that.

  That's why, following a warm and overly-friendly invitation from Emma Woodhouse, Jane, Anne, and Elizabeth packed their weekend bags and headed to Finger Lakes. Emma had expressed her excitement to collaborate with Elizabeth about certain matches that she, Emma, anticipated to be spectacular, luck permitting. Elizabeth didn’t bother to argue with Emma about her choice of words. Luck had nothing to do with love when considering the masses. If all it took was luck, then there would be no need for online dating sites, matchmakers, blind dates, and the like. No, finding “the one” took time and perseverance and a good sense about what one wanted in a life partner.

  As a matchmaker, Elizabeth was able to take the emotion out of the dating scene and consider her “senses” when pairing a couple. That’s why she was good, or rather, had been good. She was more uncertain now than anything. Questioning everything. Another reason why she’d driven up into northern New York State where the wind could be blistery and the snow knee-deep. She needed to get her groove back as the saying went.

  And she needed to see William Darcy.

  Perhaps need was too strong a word. She wasn't desperate to see him like a woman was to see her lover, but a must see so she could extend her thanks for what he’d done for the Lydia and Wickham. Letting him know that he'd, essentially, saved the day had been a weight pressing upon her, and only now, as the time to express her gratitude drew closer, was that weight lessening.

  Elizabeth picked at her cuticles and practiced what to say. There were no words to express how grateful she was.

  “There it is,” Anne said. The road came from behind the house and swung wide to afford passersby a view.

  They were a few miles north of Hammondsport. Sitting along Keuka Lake was the Woodhouse “country home,” a gated estate surrounded by a twelve-foot wrought iron fence. The house itself, called Our Lovely Lady, was massive. In comparison, Elizabeth owned a two-story corner section of a four-family row house. Our Lovely Lady was the length of ten row houses combined and shaped like an L.

  “Unbelievable,” Jane said, leaning toward her window, staring at the monstrosity. Though half a foot of snow was on the ground, the layout of the compound was easy to understand. Beside the grand house was a two-story stable and beyond that tennis courts. A large deck, identified by the fire pit in one corner, gave way to a pier that stretched out onto the icy lake.

  “We’re staying here,” Anne said, turning onto the long drive. “Only so many guests can stay at the house. Others stay in town or rent their own places nearby.”

  At the end, they were met by a closed gate. Entry could only be gained by announcing themselves to a faceless TV monitor.

  Once they were given admittance, Jane asked, “How many people?”

  “Usually it’s about twenty pairs. Whether those pairs become couples remains to be seen.”

  Elizabeth crossed her arms and said, “You mentioned she does this every year and the turnout is good?”

  “Yes,” said Anne as she crept past the gate and began to turn onto the circular drive that would bring them to the front door. “She has a party of some sort every quarter. Known for them, actually. The Valentine’s one is the most famous and obvious a matchmaking one. The others have different themes, but everyone knows she’s throwing them to gather intel on whom to match. There’s always some sort of drama and, well, honestly, she’s decent at the matchmaking bit. Secretly, I think we all come to see if it's our time, if Emma has an idea of who’s better suited for us than we do.” Anne laughed nervously. “Darcy always jokes to not drink the punch. That she likely spikes it. You all know what a cynic he is.”

  There it was, Darcy’s name spoken out loud and with it, the invitation to continue talking about him. Elizabeth wanted to ask if his presence would be for certain. She was curious as to why he’d attend a matchmaker party as a gues
t. Seemed unlike him. She glanced at Jane and bit her lower lip. And what about Bingley? How would Jane react to seeing him?

  “We’re here,” Anne said with a hint of excitement, leaving the car to idle. A middle-aged man stepped out from the house. He was dressed in all black, including his peacoat. Following him was a younger man dressed the same.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. de Bourgh,” the first man said as he helped Anne from the car.

  “Good afternoon, Roger. I’ve brought with me Ms. Elizabeth Bennet and Ms. Jane Bennet.” Roger offered his hand to help Elizabeth out while the younger man helped Jane.

  “We’re delighted by your presence,” Roger said with a slight bow. He shuffled across the snow to the retrieve their bags.

  “Thank you,” Jane said. “We’re excited to be here.” She beamed at Roger. Elizabeth studied her sister. Was it possible Jane might be looking forward to the challenge of seeing Bingley instead of shrinking from it? Only one way to know, and the first chance she got, she’d ask Jane.

  “Oliver here will escort you inside and show you to your rooms. Ms. Woodhouse is in the solarium lunching if you’d like to join her once you’re settled.” Roger handed Oliver the bags, who managed to tuck them all under his arms.