Jane and Bingley (Countdown to Christmas Book 8), Page 2

  There were no secrets ever in his family. Ever. Charles buried a sigh. “Can I get you some herbal tea or hot chocolate?”

  “Will you tell me your plans?” Her eyes were twinkling.

  All at once, he wondered if his mother and sisters had set Grammy up to pry information out of him. He was about to say no, but then again, maybe she could help. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about that.”

  “Really?”

  He could’ve sworn he heard a muffled giggle come out of her.

  “I’ll take whatever herbal tea you’ve got. Let’s sit in the living room, and you can tell me all about it.”

  Charles shook his head at her giddiness and pulled out the old tea box his mom had given him years ago. He never drank tea, but he always felt guilty for wanting to throw it away, so there it sat in his cupboard, waiting for gossipy old women to come along. “Raspberry?”

  “Perfect. I’ll wait in the other room.”

  He smiled wryly as he poured some hot water into the other mug and then joined her on the couch with his still-warm cocoa. They chatted for a bit about this and that, and then she nailed him.

  “So, Chazz, tell me what’s up. What would you like to know?”

  Chazz. He grinned. No one had called him that for a long time. He took a deep breath and then sipped his cocoa without scalding himself this time. “Jane seemed off tonight. After I left you guys, I went to talk to her and say hi.”

  She nodded and took a sip of her drink, but didn’t say anything.

  “And . . . I don’t know . . . Jane seemed different. Well, at first she seemed excited to see me—she even kissed me! But then that changed, and she got all stiff and just walked away. Right when I’d been hoping to really talk and apologize, she just left—said she was busy or something. It was weird.”

  Grammy looked at him and then asked, “Did she say anything? Ask how you were, you know, anything like that? Or did she just walk up and kiss you?”

  He shrugged. “She asked normal things, like how long had I been there. And I explained why I hadn’t sat next to her during dinner.”

  She fidgeted and nearly spilled her tea. “You were her dinner partner?”

  “Um, yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You left her alone the whole time, and didn’t say hi until during the toasts? She didn’t know you had arrived yet?”

  “Well, no. Is that a big deal or something?”

  “Charles Fredrick Bingley! You are as absolutely clueless as your grandfather!”

  “So her attitude is my fault? What did I do wrong?”

  Grammy placed her mug on the coffee table in front of them and then put her hands dramatically on her face. “You need some help. You need some real help. Thank the good Lord I came today because this relationship would’ve been over before it had a chance.”

  He was way out of his depth here. “What?”

  She leaned over and patted his knee. “What have you gotten her for Christmas?”

  “Uh, a New York snow globe and warm blanket. Why? Is that bad too?”

  She shook her head in a disbelieving manner. “Toss them both out. We’re starting from scratch.”

  From scratch? “What do you have in mind?”

  “Christmas. All twelve days of them.”

  “Twelve days?” What in the world was she talking about?

  “Yes! And this time you’re going to do things right!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  A Partridge in a Pear Tree

  Jane got up from the couch and then sat down upon the matching striped gray chair in her apartment’s living room. She sighed and crossed her legs. A few moments later, she unfolded them and stood up again.

  Christmas Day. It had been two days since the wedding. Two. And she still hadn’t heard from Charles. Her heart was too agitated to focus on anything. She was antsy. She was bored. She was nervous and frustrated and anxiety-ridden.

  She should probably go shopping or something, but it was Christmas, and everything was closed. Pacing on her small white-and-turquoise rug, she debated what to do. She’d already been to her parents’ house for Christmas gifts. She was supposed to stay longer, but honestly couldn’t bear the happy chatter another moment, so she feigned a headache and went home. Now would’ve been the perfect time to call Eliza and moan, but no way was she going to interrupt her sister on her honeymoon. In fact, she doubted she’d ever be able to really interrupt her again.

  Jane walked into the bedroom and picked up a book before setting it back down again. No. There was no way she could concentrate well enough to read, either. She saw her coat flung on the bed. A walk. Maybe that would work. She tossed it over her shoulders and grabbed a bright red-and-white striped scarf. She had to do something. Anything to take her mind off the fact that Charles was in town and they were supposed to spend the holidays together, and now it looked like she might have blown it.

  Not that she should care. No girl deserves that kind of anxiety. But really, was he going to stop by or not? Why hadn’t he texted or anything since she left him standing there? She took a deep breath, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and headed out the door.

  She almost slipped on the ice, she was moving so fast, but her hand caught the railing just as her boots started to skid. Taking it a bit slower, she headed down the steps of the two-story building to the parking lot and then turned toward the park. The complex was only a couple of years old, and in a nice part of town.

  Jane waved to a few neighbors as they were making their way into the complex. She would have jogged slightly to avoid having to make small talk, but the ground was icy. Instead, she kept her head lowered and walked the two hundred yards or so to the snow-filled park. There was a path that still hadn’t been shoveled because of the holiday, with only a few smatterings of footprints and paw prints. She trudged through the soft fluff.

  After about thirty minutes of breathing in clean, quiet air, she felt her mind might be settled enough to head back in. That, and her toes were beginning to go numb.

  As she stomped her way back up the apartment stairs—attempting to get as much snow off as possible—she failed to notice the lone figure waiting at her door until she almost ran into him.

  “Hi.” Charles grinned and took a step toward her.

  One word, and her heart calmed and her breathing went back to normal. He came. “Merry Christmas.” Why did she feel like crying all of a sudden? She had no idea how much she’d missed that smile until she worried she’d never see it again.

  “Merry Christmas to you too.” He pointed down. “I brought you something.”

  There by his feet stood a miniature tree. “A plant?”

  He bent down and picked it up. “Not just any plant. It’s a pear tree. And it’s also the reason I’m late. Apparently not many greenhouses around here carry pear trees this far into the season.”

  Charles went looking specifically for a pear tree? “Aren’t the greenhouses all closed this time of year?”

  He nodded. “Pretty much.”

  She didn’t know quite what to say. “Well, thank you. It’s . . . it’s fun.” Who wouldn’t want their own miniature pear tree in December? The important thing was that he was here and trying. And sort of totally adorable.

  His grin grew. “Do you really like it? I had to go to Vegas to get it, and I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be. Because, you know, it’s a fruit tree for Christmas. Well, for part of your Christmas. You’re going to get a few more things from me.”

  “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. “O
h, 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.