Posted on Friday, 31 August 2007

I Blame Jane
AND I'M SURE SHE BLAMES HERSELF

Elizabeth could hear her stomach rumbling; it was almost lunchtime, and she'd just finished leading a group of first graders on a field trip. She could hear the phone ringing in the small office she shared with two archeology grad students, and she jogged down the hall and through the door. "Museum of Longbourn, Elizabeth speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hey, Lizzy."

"Hi, Jane! What's up? Do you want to meet for lunch today?"

"I wish I could! I'm too busy right now – I don't think I'll even get to leave my desk for lunch. Our customer service rep promised a product we hadn't even completed yet, and the client is ticked off because they can't get it yesterday. Almost everyone has been diverted to this project. We're all going to have to order in or something."

Elizabeth could hear the clicking of keyboard keys over the phone. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay. I didn't even call you to complain about that. I just wanted to let you know that William's sister Ana is in the hospital for an emergency appendectomy."

"She's what? That's awful! I hope she'll be okay. I mean – of course she's going to be okay, I just mean I hope it will be a quick recuperation. You know."

"Yeah, me too. I just thought you ought to know about Ana. In case you wanted to call William or something."

"You mean he doesn't know yet?" Incredulity was thick in Elizabeth's voice. "Someone should call him! How did you find out, if ...?"

"Of course he knows! He called Charles from his house as he was throwing together a suitcase, and Charles dropped everything to meet him and drive him to the airport."

"I wouldn't expect any less," Elizabeth said.

This was one of the many ways that Charlie and Jane were so compatible: her sister was an excellent friend – always knowing just the right thing to say, always the first to help anyone in need. And Charlie Bingley was one of the most loyal, dependable friends in the world. It was probably one of the things that had drawn Jane and Charlie together.

"And I thought that you might want to call William, too, on his cell or something, and make sure he's okay. You know, offer him a listening ear or whatever he needs."

Elizabeth hoped her snort of disbelief didn't carry over the phone connection; her eyebrows rose and she shook her head. Jane always believed the best in everyone, no matter how much evidence to the contrary might exist. "Jane, I ..."

"He'd appreciate a call, Lizzy. I know he would."

Heaving a great sigh, Elizabeth said, "Maybe I will." Even as she said her goodbyes, she knew she wouldn't call him. She would never call him.

Two Weeks Later

"Lizzy! Hi. I just wanted to let you know I'm free tonight after all, if you still want to go shopping."

"Yes! Oh, I'm so relieved Jane, I really need your help with this. I never know what will look good on me for these sorts of occasions. I ... Wait. Why are you free tonight? Charlie didn't stand you up, did he?"

Jane giggled. "Of course not. He's way too polite for that. He called me in plenty of time, to tell me he was on his way to the airport."

"He's what? Is he going somewhere?"

"He's picking up William. Ana is doing much better and her roommate has promised to look after her, so he's coming home. He's been running everything from his laptop and cell phone, worried about the company here and worried that he wasn't doing enough for Ana there. I suppose it's in his nature to worry that he's not doing enough, even though he's sort of a superman."

Elizabeth rolled her hand, gesturing for Jane to finish with her praise of William. Thank heavens Jane couldn't see the signal.

"So Charlie is spending the evening with William, and you're free?" Elizabeth said excitedly.

"Yup. I’m home now."

"Yay! I'll meet you at the apartment in ... twenty minutes."

Elizabeth ran up the stairs two at a time, her head filled with thoughts of formal dresses and perfect evenings. She was still trying to decide which of three potential beaus she was going to ask to accompany her. She was so excited about the dress – she hadn't needed an elegant dress since her senior prom, and she suspected her ideas of elegant would be quite different now. And the shoes! Her mother had always bought shoes only at the really cheap stores. "With five daughters, I can't afford anything over twenty-five dollars. These are good enough. Really! What would be the benefit of spending more than this?" Frances Bennet always said. Well tonight, Elizabeth intended to find out what the benefit would be.

She flung open the front door. "I'm here, Jane! Are you ready? We can grab a quick bite to eat on the way, if you're hungry."

Jane had changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a casual shirt, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "I'm ready. Have you called William?"

Elizabeth shook her head and wrinkled her eyebrows. "Where did that come from?"

Jane squinted and tilted her head, the well-known precursor to her angry face. "Every day for the past two weeks I've suggested you should call him."

"Jane, what am I going to say to him? Seriously?"

"How about, 'I'm sorry about your sister, William, is there anything I can do to help?'"

"I am sorry about his sister. Really sorry!"

"She's been having stomach aches since she moved into the dorm in September. She really thought it was just nerves, and some of it probably was. But she's had a few tough exams lately and a huge paper, and she didn't see the symptoms for what they were."

"I just ... I really am sorry. The poor girl is so quiet and so insecure, worried sick about everything. Who knows, maybe I'd have been just like her if my parents had died."

Jane smiled faintly and shook her head. "You wouldn't."

"Well ..."

"I might have, but you wouldn't. You're too confident."

"I'd happily talk to Ana, but William ..."

Jane squinted and tilted her head again, her eyebrows knit. "He's your friend, Lizzy. You've only met Ana a couple of times."

"But what can I say to him, Jane, that won't be misinterpreted? I know how he feels about me, and you know that it isn't possible for me to like him because ..." Elizabeth stopped abruptly because Jane had thrown up her hands, turned her back, and walked out of the room. She stood with her mouth agape. In their more than two decades as sisters, Jane had never dismissed her, never left her mid-sentence, never turned her back on her before.

Elizabeth followed her into the bedroom. "Jane?"

When Jane turned to face her, her arms were folded rigidly and her angry face was on. But she didn't say a word.

"What's the matter?"

"Lizzy, if you had ever paid attention you'd have figured out long ago I don't want to hear you unload and vent about William."

Elizabeth took a few seconds to reflect on the conversations they'd had since meeting Charlie and William. Certainly Jane was always trying to persuade her to give him a chance, and yes, she'd seen the angry face more in the past few months than the previous twenty years combined. "I don't understand, Jane ..."

"That couldn't be more obvious," she said irritably. "So I'll spell it out for you. That perfect man every woman searches for? William is about as close as a man can really come. And you're being a total idiot! If you want to bad mouth him, you'll have to find someone else to listen to it because I won't."

"Jane!" Elizabeth said. It really was as though a light bulb had been switched on, illuminating an idea in a corner of her mind that she'd never inspected before. "You like him, don't you?"

"Isn't that evident?"

"I mean, you like him. Don't you? You ..." Elizabeth thought of all the times she'd seen Jane smiling at Charlie – her love struck, devoted Charlie – and the rest of the sentence died in her throat.

"Yes I like him; and if you ever mention that to anyone on this earth, including me, I swear upon all that is good and holy I will never speak to you again. I like him. He's gorgeous and he's thoughtful and he's polite – what's not to like? Don't get me wrong, Charles is no booby prize. He's a wonderful man on his own merit and he makes me very happy. But William ... what doesn't this man have going for him? He's successful, he's personable, he's interesting, he's smart ..."

"He's conceited! Everything he says is 'my company' this and 'my extensive properties' that!"

Jane's eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth was a hard, thin line. Elizabeth knew she'd better shut up, and fast.

"Have you ever even listened to him while he talked, Lizzy? First, let's admit he has reason to brag! His company is small, but he's not even thirty years old and he's supporting himself, his sister, and ten employees in an industry that will do nothing but grow. It was the right idea and the right execution at the right time, and he's accomplished something people with lots more experience haven't managed. And yet he never brags about his success. He's always giving credit to a manager or one of the staff for pulling it off and making it all work."

Elizabeth swallowed and nodded feebly.

"And then after praising an employee, he turns the conversation toward someone else. And that's another thing: he's a fantastic and interested listener. He really pays attention to other people, especially if they mean something to him. It's uncanny what he knows about Charles, and even about me after this short amount of time. And he probably remembers every word you've ever spoken."

Again Elizabeth's head bobbed uncomfortably.

"He has a successful career and his own home, where he's always got a little do-it-yourself project going. There are women who would accept a short, balding man with halitosis for those qualifications. But he's beautiful, Elizabeth. Gorgeous. What's not to like?" Jane's hands were on her hips, arms akimbo, head cocked to the side.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and blinked, not intending to say a word until Jane had emptied her guns.

"Speak!" Jane commanded. "You've always had plenty to say about him before now!"

"But you just forbad me from ever ..."

"What's not to like about him, Elizabeth? Or can you not tell me? I'd be surprised if you could, since women all over this city – women who recognize a good man when they see him – would give their right arms and a whole lot more to have a chance to like him and be liked by him. I think you don't have a rational reason for your dislike. And I can't believe – I'll never believe – that you really don't find him attractive."

Elizabeth looked down at the carpet, feeling a little ashamed of herself. Of course he was attractive. The first time she saw him, across the museum lobby, her jaw dropped and her boss laughed out loud at her. But she'd disliked William since their first meeting because he'd called the museum "small, boring, and useless," and she had gotten so much astounded attention from everyone for objecting to him that she'd developed it into an art form. And yet everything Jane was saying had opened her eyes; he really was almost too good to be true, if Elizabeth could just throw out her prejudices long enough to look at William objectively. With a sort of uncomfortable twinge she thought, Which of us is really the proud one?

"But you know what? Every woman who can see what an excellent man he is, who would appreciate and treasure and love him – they don't stand a chance. Because William Darcy has fallen for my idiot sister, who thinks it's better to ignore and torment him. I'm done trying to convince you. I've made efforts for William's sake, because he deserves to be happy, but I'm done. You keep ignoring him, Lizzy. You keep thinking you're clever for spurning him – you'll be miserable someday when you realize what you've lost." Jane said this with such conviction, such quiet power, Elizabeth felt estranged and divided from her for the first time.

They stood facing each other, Jane still in rigid defiance, Elizabeth meek and thoughtful.

"Well," Elizabeth said, not knowing how to clear away the verbal rubble that lay between them. "Well," she repeated. "I don't feel like shopping anymore." That much was true; how could she twirl and smile like a fairy tale heroine when she felt like such the wicked witch?

"Oh, no, Lizzy," Jane said. She was instantly contrite. The stern countenance and stiff posture were gone, and the emotional outburst that almost tangibly cluttered the floor between them was instantly swept aside as Jane took four steps and wrapped Elizabeth in an embrace. "No, sweetie, we can go shopping. I didn't mean ..."

Elizabeth looked into her sister's green eyes. "You did mean it, every word. You were right to say it. But I have a lot to think about now, and dresses and shoes aren't on the list."

"Lizzy, I'm sure if we walk through a couple of stores, you'll get into a mood ..."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nah. I don't think so." She turned to leave the apartment.

She could feel the guilt coming off Jane in waves. She knew Jane blamed herself for killing the happy mood, the enthusiasm about shopping. Before she walked out the door, she grasped Jane's hand, squeezed, and said, "It'll be okay."

She walked down the stairs slowly, absently; she had returned to her car and she was sitting, seatbelt buckled, with the engine running, before she even realized what she was doing.

Elizabeth had started out without a destination, and only when she saw a sign pointing her toward the airport did she snap out of her contemplative trance. She got off the freeway at the next exit and turned around, headed back toward home. She tried to decide whether she should call William on his cell phone. Were cell phones even allowed on airplanes, she wondered? Her head was too muddled, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She didn't want to see William in an airport terminal, or waiting for his luggage, and she didn't know what to say to him over the phone. So she drove homeward.

She parked the car, still plagued with distraction, and barely remembered to lock it before she walked up the stairs to the door. The front porch light was blazing, but she couldn't tell if there were any house lights on. "Probably not," she thought. And yet she couldn't bring herself to ring the bell. Her outstretched finger hovered close to the buzzer. She wondered if it was too late? Was he asleep? Could she still leave without him knowing she'd come? She was at William's front door ... if not by mistake, then at least on impulse. Finally she balled her fist in frustration, and made a few weak knocks on the oaken door, sighing and slumping against the frame. He might be anywhere: on an airplane, in a restaurant, or even in Charlie's car on the highway.

Hearing footsteps, she barely had time to straighten up again before the door was thrown open.

William was in stocking feet, plaid pajama pants, and a tight white T-shirt. His hair was tousled, and shock and surprise were written on his face. His voice sounded raw as he said, "Elizabeth?" He folded his arms across his chest, then dropped them to his sides, then rested an elbow against the door. He looked as awkward as she felt.

"How's Ana, William? I wasn't sure you'd be here. In fact I was sure you wouldn't be here, but ..."

A hand passed across his brow did nothing to erase the worry or fatigue, but his eyes held hers. "The surgery went well. Her appendix hadn't perforated yet, so that was good. She was only in the hospital two days, and then I stayed with her until she really started feeling better. She's still weak, of course, and really worried about the lectures and exams she's missed."

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "I'm glad she's okay."

"Yes," William said. He nodded, stared, bit his lip, and stroked his chin. The silence only lasted for seconds, but it wasn't a peaceful one. She could see very clearly the moment he found words, because his shoulders relaxed; his face softened and he almost smiled. "I should have asked sooner – would you like to come in?" He stepped backward, sweeping his arm toward the living room.

It looked like an invitation to embrace, Elizabeth thought, with his arms spread wide like that. She wondered if he needed a hug? Like she would under similar circumstances?

"If you're not busy?" she answered hesitantly, eyeing his pajamas. "I don't want to interrupt, or keep you up when you should be sleeping."

There it was. Elizabeth had seen this look on William's face before – longing, and hope, and a flicker of something that looked like adoration. She'd always had to fight the urge to roll her eyes before, when his adoration was unwanted and his longing made her uncomfortable. But not this time. This time concern for him unexpectedly rose up from deep within her, and she found she wanted to hold him, to help him shoulder his burdens just for a while if she could.

His hands had dropped to his sides. "Please," he said quietly, his voice cracking just a little. "I'd really appreciate the company."

As she passed through the doorway she slipped her hand into his and squeezed – just a fleeting touch, to convey her support. She walked into the living room and took a seat, and he followed her there. As she stood on his doorstep, he'd wondered if he should sit beside her on the sofa, and how closely? He couldn't sit as close as he wanted of course, but ...

But she had chosen the chair beside the sofa. So he sat at the end of the sofa beside the armrest, as close to her as he could but still several feet away. He realized that the last two weeks had taken an emotional toll on him, because his desire to be comforted by her, accepted by her, was almost overwhelming. It was a struggle to keep his voice steady and his mind on neutral topics.

"So what have you been up to, Elizabeth?"

She smiled, even laughed softly, and shook her head. "William, I didn't come here to talk about me."

"Oh ...I know, I just ... I'm interested." His voice faded into nothing under the weight of everything he couldn't say.

"I came here to see how you are. Where have you been sleeping for two weeks?"

"I had a room in a little motel."

"Internet access?"

"Oh yes, I don't know what I would have done without that."

"You'd have managed something with your cell phone, I'm sure. Did Ana stay with you?"

"Well, her dorm room was really a more comfortable place for her, so we – I mean she – stayed there."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I think 'we' was really the truth. You spent a lot of time in her dorm room, didn't you?" she asked.

He didn't realize how transparent he was, so he was amazed at Elizabeth's perspicacity. "Well, yes."

"Slept on her floor a lot?"

He nodded weakly.

"Your back's killing you?" she asked, rising from her chair and crossing to sit beside him on the sofa.

"Only a little," he said.

"And I'm sure you were constantly tidying and looking after meals." Elizabeth looked with concern into his eyes, her eyebrows creased.

"It's what I do," he said quietly.

"Yes. You take care of people you love."

She said this matter-of-factly, and William felt that she understood him at least a little.

"Only," she said, reaching up slowly and putting a hand tentatively on his cheek, "isn't it time someone took care of you?"

William's breath caught, and his eyes fluttered closed. He could smell the lightest trace of scent on her wrist. Her touch was so gentle – her warm fingers barely skimmed his skin. He placed his hand atop hers, cradling his face in her hand, turning to kiss her palm. And then he fought to control his shallow, irregular breathing because he could do no more.

He held her hand in his, pulling it to his knee. He looked down at their clasped hands, wondering if he'd ever do more than hold her hand or kiss her palm. "I wouldn't mind if someone took care of me, Elizabeth. Doesn't everyone want someone to care for them, to make them a bowl of soup when they're sick or tell them to get some rest when they're overworked? I'm not any different," he said, risking a glance at her face before looking back down. "But what I really want is one more person to take care of."

Elizabeth laughed quietly. "That's just what you need."

"No, really. I'm waiting for that person who will give her whole heart to me," he said, faltering, "as I've given mine to her. That person," he continued, his voice growing a little stronger, "who will share my crazy life with me, and help me to carry my load when it gets too heavy." His voice grew so quiet it was almost reverent. "And to that person, I would give everything that I am. I can take care of one more person, Elizabeth."

He remained still, trying to keep his breathing even and slow down his pounding heart, looking at her hand clasped inside his.

And then William saw her other hand rise to turn his face toward her, and her dark eyes held his. Silence followed for many long seconds as her thumb caressed his cheek, her fingers smoothed his hair off his forehead. She tightly squeezed his hand and whispered, "I'll help carry your load."

William didn't hear. The words were not nearly as important, in his mind, as the fingers on his face, the hand holding his, and the expression of acceptance in her countenance. Slowly, so as not to disturb the quiet, dream-like ambiance, he raised his hands to her face. "I will take care of you forever," he said softly, as he allowed his lips to touch hers gently. And then one hand was on the back of his neck pulling him closer, and the other floated lightly from his shoulder down his chest.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes tightly shut. "I'm not sure what this is, Elizabeth."

"This is me trying to catch up to you," she said quietly, her hand still resting on the back of his neck.

He looked at her. "I don't understand."

"This is me, offering you my ... my affection, if it is welcome." Words had failed her. She hoped her overture would be understandable despite the awkward verbiage.

His face softened, and one side of his mouth turned up into a delighted smirk that made her heart flutter even as his was pounding. "If?"

Before she could answer his lips were on hers. Gentle kisses and soft fingers in her hair led to fused mouths and an exploration of her face shoulders. And then it was like a fire: he clasped her to him tightly and she was hot from the inside out, as if her entire body wasn't big enough to contain all he was making her feel.

After an hour spent kissing and conversing, William walked Elizabeth out to her car. There they spent another long while, expressing wordlessly the joy they each felt in their newfound accord. When finally Elizabeth buckled up and started the engine, she noticed her cell phone right where she'd left it, on the passenger seat. The red light told her she'd missed calls, and a quick look at the screen said she had three new voice mails. Each one was very much like the others: "Lizzy, this is Jane. I'm sorry. Call me."

Happily, thought Elizabeth as she dialed.

Jane answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hiya Jane," Elizabeth said cheerfully.

"Lizzy, where are you? What are you doing?"

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" Elizabeth asked, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. She knew she would drive Jane crazy if she didn't answer her questions.

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm glad you were able to doze," she said, putting the car in gear and pulling out into the nearly empty road, waving at William who was still on his front porch watching her. "I would have guessed you hadn't been able to get to sleep at all."

"Lizzy!"

"I have to admit, Jane, it's all your fault."

"I know it is, I know. I should never have said those things, and I ..."

"Now, I didn't say that," Elizabeth responded. "I think you should have said every word."

Silence.

Jane squeaked, "Huh?"

"I'm just leaving William's house."

"You ... wha–?"

"And it's all your fault, Jane. I have the hottest date ever to go to the grand opening of the new museum wing, and I have nothing to wear."

Jane was silent for a few seconds before her flustered response. "Lizzy, be serious."

"Oh, I’m serious, Jane. I still need help with a dress and shoes, but I don't need any more help with William. And I blame you for that. I'll be right home to tell you everything," Elizabeth said, flipping her phone shut and smiling as she thought about William.

Her William.

The End