The Jane Austen Marriage Manual (23 page)

My heart sank. By then we had reached the tent, and sure enough, the first two people I saw were Tatiana and Scott arm in arm, champagne
in hand next to a faux forest of potted pine trees. I stood and watched as they chatted and giggled like a high school couple. Tatiana caught me staring and raised her glass to me. I smiled and turned away, grabbing a glass of bubbly from a passing waiter’s tray and found a seat by the ring while Fawn mingled with the players. I was stupid to give Tatiana advice. I should have been meaner and bitchier and sent her packing back to Slovenia. Instead, she had Scott and the best I could do was Vlad the Cad. As I sat there I noticed that stacked on the small cocktail table beside me mixed in with polo programs were more brochures for Penwick Manor. Clearly Griff didn’t need my complimentary VIP pass. I picked one up and gazed at the elegant mansion on the cover. Now that was a life I could envision. I imagined driving up the long, winding gravel driveway in some cute convertible and being swept up in the arms of …

“You made it to your room all right, I see?”

It was Griff. Again, I felt my heart flutter and I smiled, expecting another flirtatious exchange to pick up where we left off at the bar, but his smile quickly turned to a scowl when he saw the Penwick brochure in my hand.

“I see you’ve developed taste in bed and breakfasts,” he stated matter-of-factly.

It was obvious from his tone the attraction wasn’t mutual, which was for the best. He was as far from Scott as I could get and that wouldn’t do. “Why didn’t you give
me
one of these in Palm Beach?” I asked.

“I didn’t think you’d have use for it,” he admitted.

“Why is that?” I asked, even though I knew the answer—I wasn’t rich enough to afford to stay there.

“I would have thought concrete and glass were more to your taste,” he said, surprising me a little. “You come across as strictly a city girl.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” I smiled. “I love country manors. And besides, Penwick is very Jane Austen. And make fun if you like, but I’m an Austen addict.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, seeming to soften. “And if Austen is what you’re after, the private library at Penwick has a collection of first editions.”

“Really? I’d love to see them!” I said excitedly.

“I’m afraid they are off limits to guests,” he said solemnly. “But I could get permission.” He hesitated as though struggling for what to say next. “From the owner, Mr. Penwick, to show them. That is, if you ever come to stay.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Your boss must be very snooty to keep historic books away from the public.”

“I would agree with you,” Griff responded with a nod. “The worst sort of snob. And he doesn’t pay well, either.”

“That’s a crime, then,” I said. “Maybe you should look for work someplace else.”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’ve practically grown up there.”

“Then you must really love it,” I said, more than a little envious. I missed my home. I even missed Scarsdale, and wondered if I could endure an unsatisfying job if it meant I could keep my life intact. The truth was simple—if I’d had the option to keep my family home I would have made do scrubbing floors or delivering pizza. But thanks to my mother’s gambling debts I never had the option. So here I was in St. Moritz living out some ridiculous charade. Scarsdale was far away, a past life. I touched Griff’s arm, “I’d like to see Penwick one day.”

I’ll never know how Griff was to respond because our conversation was cut short when Fawn showed up with Scott and Tatiana in tow. Tatiana wore bright skintight red jeans tucked into black suede thigh-high boots and oversize sunglasses. She was definitely a glamour girl and against the stark whiteness of the snow she resembled a cartoon character, like Jessica Rabbit, or a blow-up doll.

“Can we join your merry group?” asked Scott. “Tatiana said she wanted to sit close to Kate.”

“How nice,” Fawn said and gave me a look.

And there we sat in a nice, friendly tight-knit group, which grew that much tighter when Griff and Vlad came and sat down with me in between. I could feel the tension between him and Griff and I suddenly couldn’t wait for the polo to begin.

“What is going on there?” Scott asked and got to his feet. The whole tent became restless and began to chatter and point to the left
side of the field. I strained to look and was shocked to see a farmer leading a cow across the snowy field toward us.

“What on earth?” I said.

“Who would bring a cow to a polo tournament?” Scott asked with a snort.

“Me,” Vlad said suddenly. We all looked to him for explanation.

“It’s your cow?” I asked, thoroughly confused. By then the farmer, dressed in overalls, a winter coat, and hat had paraded his cow past the crowd and stopped directly in front of us. Vlad began talking to him in Russian. It was all very comical, until both men abruptly stopped talking and turned their attention to me.

“This is Boris,” Vlad explained. “I told you of my cousin in Wales? The one with cattle?”

I nodded slowly, not sure I liked where this was going.

“Boris is my cousin’s wife’s brother-in-law’s nephew. He quit his job at a bank in Geneva to run a dairy farm just outside St. Moritz.”

“Really?” I asked, perplexed.

“Everyone has a dream.” Vlad shrugged. “Boris wanted the pastoral life. But he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Lady Kate,” Boris said and removed his hat and bowed.

By now a small crowd nearest our part of the tent had gathered to watch.

“His cow is sick,” Vlad explained. “But the village vet ran off last week with the mayor’s daughter so I told Boris that you had your own herd of cattle and could help him. Can you tell him what is wrong with the cow?”

My eyes widened in horror. “I’m not a vet!” I exclaimed.

“Boris knows this, but he is desperate. She is his best milk cow.”

I looked at Fawn for help but she shook her head. Griff was trying not to stifle a laugh.

“Go on, Kate,” Scott said. “The poor farmer needs your expertise.”

“Yes, do,” added Griff. “We’d all like to see how
you
examine a cow.”

I shot him a scathing look, but it was no use, I had no choice but to climb off my seat and step onto the field. I could feel all eyes on me. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing by slowly walking around the animal, nodding and trying to look thoughtful. As unlikely as it may
seem, I did notice some things. For instance, she was a very fat cow and her distended belly was hanging quite low and her udder was huge, swollen even.

“When was the last time you milked her?” I asked with authority.

“She won’t let me near her anymore,” Boris said, sounding rejected and sad.

When I moved around to her head she looked up at me with her big brown sad eyes. Poor girl, she did seem uncomfortable. But to be sure I walked toward her tail end and without thinking put my hand on her butt. She snorted and tried to kick me. I jumped back but quickly regained my composure. This was one moody cow. Another clue.

“How is her appetite?”

“Eating everything in sight,” Boris said.

That was it! I’d seen it all before. The swollen udder, the round low belly, the big appetite, and the mood swings.

“She’s pregnant,” I announced triumphantly.

But Boris and Vlad burst out laughing. Scott and the others looked from them to me, puzzled, as if this was a joke that they weren’t in on.

“That is impossible,” Vlad said. “Boris only has one steer and he is kept in another pasture with a five-foot fence between them.”

By now the others were looking at me doubtfully and Griff, rather rudely, was busy on his cell phone.

“Believe me, I’ve known plenty of pregnant cows in my life,” I said expertly, thinking of Claire, Ellie, and the Monster Mamas. “And many women, I mean cows, they’ll stop at nothing to get it, including jumping over a five-foot fence,” I continued, recounting the hoops of fire many women went through to get pregnant.

“You must prove it,” Vlad said sternly. “Boris has an exam glove.”

“An exam glove?” I asked fearfully.

Boris produced an elbow-length latex glove from his pocket and held it up.

“Eeew,” Fawn shrieked. “It’s a cow condom.”

“It’s for doing internal examinations,” Griff explained, still on his cell phone.

“I don’t need to examine the cow,” I said firmly, hoping Boris and Vlad would be satisfied.

“You must examine your own Highland cattle,” Tatiana piped up, unhelpfully.

I scanned the sea of anxious faces. Fawn shook her head, but I knew what must be done.

“Give me the glove,” I said and wondered how far I was going to have to take this. Adding to the confusion, officials with the polo tournament were bustling about, trying to figure out how to end the spectacle. One wave from Vlad, however, and they were silenced. I pulled and yanked the latex glove over my right hand and arm and stepped to the back end of the cow just as a tall, blond man carrying a large suitcase ran over.

“Did someone call a vet?” he said.

“Yes!” I shouted in relief, even though I didn’t have a clue who had called him. “Am I glad to see you.”

“I called,” Griff said, stepping forward. “We have a sick cow.”

“I’m Dr. McKee; I’m with the polo tournament,” the vet explained. “But I’ve treated bovines before. What’s wrong?”

“She says the cow is pregnant,” Vlad said, referring to me.

“This is a portable ultrasound machine,” Dr. McKee explained. “We’ll soon find out.”

We all stood around silently as the vet ran the wand over the cow’s stomach and waited for his prognosis. I tried to look at Griff but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. I was surprised that he’d rescued me—yet again—from what could have been a very messy situation, but he didn’t seem to want my attention or thanks.

“She’s right,” the vet announced. “This cow is pregnant.”

I took a deep breath and was surprised when the crowd applauded me.

“Thank you,” Boris said and bowed to me once more.

“You’d better take her home,” the vet told the farmer. “The polo is set to start any minute.”

Vlad kissed me on the cheeks in true Russian fashion, Scott patted me on the back, Fawn got me another drink; I had saved the day.

But I for one was never so happy to see a horse as when the polo teams galloped onto the snow.

Polo in St. Moritz proved much more fun than it had in Palm Beach; the snow meant I had no fears of dust or manure landing on me. Scott kept his promise from the night before and spent a great deal of time explaining the rules to me. Tatiana didn’t approve but I didn’t give a damn. I loved how Scott treated me. He was such a gentleman, always charming, witty, and courteous. For the first time I had his full attention and I rose to the occasion and behaved every inch the aristocrat, completely ignoring Tatiana’s presence.

Even Vlad’s mood had improved and he managed to make Fawn laugh more than once. The day was ending much better than it had begun until Scott held up a Penwick Manor brochure.

“You know I’ve always wanted to stay at Penwick,” Scott said to Griff.

“You’ve heard of Penwick?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course, it’s one of the oldest estates in England, and one of the few that still belong to the original family,” he said. “Right, Griff?”

“Yes, the Penwicks have been there for centuries,” he said firmly.

“I’m surprised I haven’t read about it,” I said. “I read tons of British fashion magazines, including the travel sections.”

“It’s not a trendy place,” Griff explained. “It’s hardly ever in the press.”

“Your clients would appreciate that,” Scott confirmed. Clearly, Penwick was even grander than I assumed.

Griff changed the subject and Scott continued to describe the events on the field to me. During halftime as I headed to the bar to get more champagne, I dropped my handbag on the ground beside all those potted pine trees. It didn’t just drop, mind you, it flew, upside down and open it went, scattering its contents everywhere. Lipsticks, odd change, hair bands, even my wallet lost its grip and lay spread-eagled in one of the pots. As I kneeled down to pick up my things I overheard Griff and Scott on the other side of the trees. Their conversation seemed to be wrapping up, but I heard this bit:

“So please don’t say anything,” Griff said. My ears pricked up immediately. “I prefer certain aspects of my life to remain private.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Scott said warmly. “Besides, it’s not obvious with you. Some men you can tell a mile away, but you’re very subtle.”

“It’s important to me.”

Scott patted Griff’s shoulder and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t out you.”

My eyes widened. I was dumbfounded. Secret? Out him? Those words meant only one thing where I came from. Griff was gay. At first I felt foolish not to have guessed earlier. After all, I worked with so many gay men in fashion and let’s face it, he had a fey quality about him. But what was worse, I was disappointed, which was even more foolish. Then I remembered his repeated attempts to ask me out. Was that a ploy to avoid detection? But why? Or like the dozens of gay men in New York, did he just want to be my gay best friend? I had to tell Fawn.

“I don’t believe it,” she said afterward. “Though I suppose it’s hard to tell with Englishmen. They almost always seem gay; they’re so effeminate.”

“I don’t understand why he kept trying to get me to go out with him,” I remarked, feeling the wave of disappointment again.

I sat completely perplexed throughout the rest of the polo. How could I not see he was gay? I also tried not to notice Scott and Tatiana groping each other. Fawn seemed content to drink champagne, oblivious to everything around her.

I watched Vlad hoot and holler when the game was in play. At least something got him excited. Maybe I should give him another chance. He was handsome and rich and technically that’s all that mattered.

“I’m going to try talking to Vlad again,” I whispered to Fawn.

“After that cow episode, he should be proposing!” She laughed. I cleared my throat.

“So Vlad, what is it you love about polo?”

“Shush! I’m watching game!” he snapped.