The Jane Austen Marriage Manual (33 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I gasped. “Why would you say such nonsense?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she paused for effect. “You have been spending
a lot of time with him. He got you to ride a horse, for Christ’s sake. He’s obviously had an influence on you.”

I shrugged. “He’s fixed my back. Look at me now. I don’t even need a cane. Horses are great therapy.”

“Aha,” she said with a wink.

“I’m serious,” I insisted. “I could write a health story for
Haute
about it.” I rummaged in my handbag for my compact and as I did, I could feel Emma scrutinizing me. She clearly had something on her mind. Sure enough, within seconds she spoke.

“You don’t love Scott,” she asked carefully, “do you?”

I pressed powder onto my nose in firm dabs and checked my teeth for lipstick stains.

“I will,” I answered at last. “He’s a good man. I
will
love him.”

“Oh, Kate,” Emma said softly. “Don’t do it. Call it off. You can’t marry a man you don’t love.”

“Bollocks, as you say in this country!” I answered, snapping the compact shut and zipping up my makeup bag. “Marrying Scott is the smartest move I’ve ever made. Women once
only
married for security; affection was a bonus. And I have both. My Jane Austen guide works!”

“We don’t live in bloody Jane Austen’s time,” Emma barked. “I know you’ve been working on this article and all that, but women can make their own fortune and buy their own house and marry for love, and only for love. You got lucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. My plan worked and other women like me can do it, too,” I said. “Besides, I’m forty; it’s too late to make my fortune. I squandered my youth on dead-end jobs. Hell, I wasn’t even a
real
beauty editor, just an
acting
one. A
pretend
anything is pathetic unless you’re twelve.”

“You mean like a
pretend
aristocrat,
Lady
Kate?” she interjected meanly.

I’d never fought with Emma before. But her comment struck a nerve, so, hurt and angry, I lashed out at her.

“Look at you; you married for love and what do you have to show for it?” I snapped. “You’re a struggling film composer with no money, no home, a baby on the way, living cooped up with your mother-in-law. No thanks.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to yank them back. But it was too late. Emma’s eyes were filled with tears.

“That’s not fair,” she cried angrily. “It was the recession that did this. Clive will make money again and we will have a home!”

“Emma! I’m sorry!” I said desperately as she stormed out of the loo.

I chased after her but she had already grabbed her coat and Clive.

“We’re leaving,” she said to Griff without looking at me.

“Emma, please, I said I was sorry,” I pleaded.

“You
will
be sorry one day,” she scolded me. “But it’s your funeral. Oops, I mean wedding.”

She walked away with Clive on her heels, leaving me standing there like the fool I was.

Griff coughed.

“I’m a bitch,” I announced and sat down at the table.

“Let me guess, you opened your mouth and all your charm fell out?” he asked dryly.

“I should go,” I answered with a forced smile. “Fawn arrives tomorrow morning and Brandon and Marianne get here in the afternoon.”

“And what about the groom?”

I looked at him, shocked. It was the first time in weeks he’d mentioned Scott.

“Your husband-to-be?”

“I know who you meant. He comes Friday morning; we have the whole day to ourselves before the party.”

“You must really miss him,” he said flatly.

“Of course,” I said and put on my coat.

But as I walked along the lane to Penwick, Emma’s and Griff’s words haunted me. I hadn’t seen Scott in weeks and I didn’t miss him. But I’d been so busy with the wedding plans, and the accident, and recovering and all that, how could I?

I
was never much of an athlete, so when I borrowed Doris’s green Pashley bicycle, its wicker basket loaded down with home-baked muffins, I had underestimated the fitness level required to cycle into the village. The lanes were bumpy and full of stones and crevices, making steering a challenge. I arrived at the small stone house panting and sweaty.

“You look frightful,” Emma said and stood squarely in the doorway with no intent of inviting me in.

“I’m out of shape,” I said and smiled, hoping she’d warm up. She didn’t.

“What do you want, Kate?”

“Your forgiveness,” I said plainly. “I was a total cow last night. I had no business insulting you or Clive. I’m sorry. I wish I could take those words back.”

Emma nodded. “I can’t say the same thing. I do believe you’re making a mistake marrying Scott.”

“I know you do,” I said. “But I have to do what’s right for me and for my family. At least you and Clive have his mom’s cottage. I have nothing. Being homeless is worse than being alone or poor. Scott will give me a home and in turn I can give Iris and Ann a home.

“And I want you there, I need you there, with me, when I marry him,” I said more pitifully than I’d intended. “Scott is a good man and
I do care for him. Not every romance can have the passion you and Clive have.”

Emma smiled at this and glanced over my shoulder at the Pashley. “What’s in the basket?”

I grinned. I could always count on Emma’s appetite.

“Only homemade strawberry muffins,” I responded and retrieved them from the bicycle. Doris had baked them for me that morning after I’d told her I needed them to make up with Emma. “Your favorite.”

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You do know the right buttons to push, don’t you? Okay, come in. But bring all the muffins.”

I laughed and followed her inside.

An hour later I was once again an overheated mess as I cycled back up to Penwick’s front door. I was just in time to see a dove gray Rolls-Royce pull up. Only one person would hire
that
car.

“Darling!” Fawn squealed when she saw me. “Look what a country girl you’ve become! Cycling about like a mad thing and not giving a hoot about your hair! Did you get the gown finished in time?” I laughed at her comments about my appearance and as I moved in for a hug, I noticed straightaway that she looked fabulous. Clearly, Italy agreed with her. She was back in fighting form in a pale gray sheath dress that Jackie Kennedy would have killed for. Her hair had been cut into a crisp but stylish shoulder-length bob. She looked modern and sexy.

“I did,” I said gleefully. “In oyster, just as you suggested. Vera Wang had the perfect bias-cut gown. You’ll love it and I love your hair!”

“Thank you, dear. I needed a change. As for your gown, oyster is much nicer than cream, especially with your complexion,” she said as we walked arm in arm up the master staircase. “White just won’t do at your age.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said playfully.

“Oh, hush,” she continued. “You’re lucky you can still get away with
a dress; if I don’t hurry, at my next wedding I’ll have to make do with separates. Now pour me a drink.”

“It’s ten in the morning!” I exclaimed.

“Fine, fine,” she waved me off. “Make it a mimosa. Is that ‘morning’ enough for you?”

“Fawn!” a man’s voice called out and we turned on the steps as a small, slightly built man with a swarthy complexion strided toward us. I gave Fawn a look.

“Marco!” she called out. “Come meet Kate. Isn’t he darling?” she said to me.

Marco kissed my hand and smiled. He was short but perfectly proportioned. He looked to be in his thirties and wore a very expensive-looking navy pinstripe suit. I wondered if it was new.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Marco, go check us in with that lovely lady over there,” Fawn said and pointed to Doris, who was seated at an ancient desk with the register. Once he was out of earshot, Fawn grabbed my arm and told me everything.

“Marco is Italian,” she breathed.

“Yes, I guessed that.” I laughed.

“He exports coffee,” she said. “He runs his own business. He’s not rich but he does all right. And I just love his sense of style! European men know how to dress; when we met he was wearing a lavender suit.”

“The suit he’s wearing now is very nice, too,” I agreed, impressed that Marco bought his own clothes. “And you don’t need rich.”

“Ain’t that the truth? And what I do need he gives me plenty.”

“Too much information!” I shrieked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give you the gory details.” She smiled. “But what’s the point of all my money if I can’t fall for any man I please? Men like Scott can’t have all the fun.”

I gave her a look that said she was treading on thin ice.

“Sorry.” She grinned.

Mimosas in hand and giggling like schoolgirls, we toured the house as Marco went to their room to unpack. I knew the house by heart, but I wanted Fawn to see the grounds, so we took our drinks and hoofed it
through the gardens, eventually, and what was now second nature for me, winding up at the stable. There was no sign of Griff, but I lingered near the horses, petting Ratina as she hung her head over her stall door, waiting, but he never appeared.

“Since when do you like hanging out with horses?” Fawn said impatiently. “It’s damp and smelly out here.”

I kicked at the dirt and bit my lip, unsure how to tell her the truth; after all, she was bound to have an opinion.

“I forgot to tell you,” I hesitated. “Griff is here; he postponed his trip to London.”

Fawn looked as if she might implode. “You haven’t …”

“God no! I’m engaged,” I blurted. “We’re just friends.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Not with benefits, I hope.”

“None.”

“I don’t like it, Kate,” she said and squinted at me as if trying to read my mind. “You’ve been attracted to that scoundrel since day one.”

“Not day one,” I corrected. “I didn’t like him at all when I first laid eyes on him.”

“Even worse!” she countered. “Tension like that is bound to explode.”

“Let’s drop it,” I said. “Everything is fine. Besides, he doesn’t feel that way about me. Apparently I’m not his type.”

She pursed her lips at this new information and shook her head. “It was much easier when you thought he was gay,” she said.

“Time to refresh our drinks,” I announced. “Follow me.” I gave Ratina a pat and headed back to the house with Fawn in silent pursuit.

That afternoon Brandon and Marianne arrived, with Thomas in tow. As excited as I was, I was also nervous about seeing them, knowing how crazy they thought my life had become. But it was just like old times.

“Congratulations,” Marianne said and hugged me.

“You look every inch the lady who lunches.” Brandon grinned and kissed me on each cheek.

“Can I hold him?” I asked Marianne as I squatted down to Thomas, smiling from his carrier.

“I thought you hated holding babies,” she said as she picked him up and handed him to me.

“Thomas is different, he’s yours.” I smiled and held the baby. He was cute, all right, though he looked far more like Frank than Marianne. Not that I would ever tell her.

“I know, he’s got Frank’s face.” She grinned sourly.

“Well, Frank is handsome,” I said and tried to balance Thomas in my arms but he was starting to fidget. Marianne looked around the foyer, eyeing the space. To prepare for the wedding extra cleaning staff had swept in over the past few days and Penwick was looking more spiffy.

“I have to hand it to you, when you research a story you really research it,” she said. “Have you finished it yet? You still owe the magazine a finished draft at the end of this month. We’re counting on it.”

By now Thomas had wiggled so much in my arms I was grasping him around his tummy, which he didn’t seem to mind all that much. Marianne scowled, though, and grabbed him from me.

“And you’ll have it. Is that your way of saying you approve?” I asked tentatively.

“I just want you to be happy,” she answered and put her hand on my arm. “I admit I thought your idea to marry a man just because he was rich was a great idea—for a
story
. But in reality? But if Scott makes your life complete, then who am I to judge?”

“Nonsense,” Brandon cut in. “Of course she’s judgmental; she’s Marianne—she’s perfect!”

Marianne slugged him with her handbag and all three of us burst out laughing. Brandon could always be counted on to break up an awkward moment.

“It’s wonderful, Lady Kate,” Brandon continued.

“That’s me,” I said quickly. “And this is my estate!”

“Nice digs,” he joked. “This is some place. I’d love to shoot a film here. Can we check it out?”

Again I gave the tour. Emma had loaned me a stroller that she’d bought used in the village and I pushed Thomas along as we walked. And once again, no Griff. “This is frustrating,” I said. “I wanted you to meet Griff Saunderson; he’s the manager of Penwick and he trains all the horses I showed you. You’d love him.”

“Would we?” Marianne asked with a raised eyebrow. “As much as we’re going to love Scott?”

“Of course not!” I smiled. “You will meet my fiancé tomorrow. Tonight, we’re having dinner in. You’re going to enjoy Fawn, Emma, and Clive.”

“Yes, you’ve talked a lot about this Fawn; she sounds special, all right,” Marianne said severely. I knew there was a risk they wouldn’t like each other. I knew on some level that Marianne held Fawn responsible for everything that had happened to me. Fawn might find Marianne aloof and prudish. Oh well, they only had to endure each other’s company for the weekend.

As we strolled back to the house, I inquired after the magazine, Brandon’s latest epic commercial, and, finally, Lucy.

“So, did you break up?” I asked.

He shook his head. “What makes you ask that?”

“Only that I offered to fly her over and you refused the invite,” I explained. “What other reason could there be?”

“She’s pregnant,” he said and beamed proudly. “But it’s a high-risk pregnancy; the doctor said she can’t fly.”