The Jane Austen Marriage Manual

by Kim Izzo

Fawn was grinning ear to ear. “So now that Scott is a free man, you have to make your move.”

  “Oh, Fawn, I can’t just sweep in there. Look at her.” I gestured to Tatiana, who was reapplying makeup to her red and swollen eyes. “She’s heartbroken.”

  Fawn raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged.

  “You’ve been after him for how long?” she asked.

  “Not that long,” I said.

  As we headed to the door I glanced once more at Tatiana. She looked up in the mirror and for a few seconds our eyes met. I waited for a show of warmth, anything that said we had crossed the line from rivals to friendship, but her expression was blank as she returned to her mascara. It was all I needed. I had a feeling that Scott could be made to forgive her. But I wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

  “I don’t see him,” I said to Fawn on our way back to Vlad.

  She looked around the room, then stopped the maître d’. “Have you seen Mr. Madewell?”

  “Monsieur left about ten minutes ago,” he answered and dashed off toward the lineup of people waiting to get in.

  “Damn,” I said loudly. Truth was, I didn’t want to go back to Vlad. There was only one man who would do and that was Scott Madewell. And now he was free.

  It was then that I spotted Griff at the bar settling his tab. I asked Fawn to give me a moment and walking up behind Griff, I tapped him on the shoulder. He wheeled around to face me.

  “If it isn’t the robber bride,” he said coolly.

  I winced a little but ignored his remark.

  “You have something in your hair,” he said, lifting his hand to my head. As he did so I turned my face to see what he was plucking at and my lips grazed his arm. That alarm went off inside again, ding, ding, ding; clearly my body enjoyed his touch more than I wanted it to, which set off alarms of a different kind. I couldn’t be attracted to Griff, could I?

  “It looks like a feather,” he said and held the white piece of fluff up so I could see it. He smiled. “You can trust me.”

  I was suddenly speechless but couldn’t take my eyes off him. Another second or two of intense staring and he’d kiss me, I could feel it, and what’s more, I wanted it.

  “There you are.” Vlad had found me. Fawn was right behind him. I was far more disappointed at the interruption than I expected.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, completing ignoring Griff.

  “Poor thing,” Fawn jumped in. “She was feeling terribly faint. Luckily she didn’t fall on the marble and get a concussion.”

  Vlad looked from Fawn to me. I feigned weakness and nodded.

  “You okay now?” he said, softening a little.

  “Yes, much better, thank you.”

  “Then go get your coat,” he ordered. “We go for nightcap.”

  I was not going anywhere with him.

  “Honestly, Vlad, I don’t want a nightcap. I just want to go back to my room.”

  Vlad grabbed my elbow and yanked me. My eyes widened in panic. I wasn’t expecting him to be so aggressive.

  “I said nightcap,” he snapped.

  “I don’t think you understood the lady,” said Griff suddenly.

  “What did you say?” Vlad growled.

  Fawn and I stood wide-eyed. I was suddenly afraid for Griff. Vlad was big and angry, and worse, sexually frustrated.

  But Griff stepped forward and took me by the arm. “Kate, give me your ticket and we’ll go and get your coat.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Vlad stamped his foot.

  “A friend,” Griff answered calmly. “You heard Fawn,” he continued. “Kate is unwell, she doesn’t want a nightcap.”

  “I don’t,” I said quivering.

  Vlad stood steaming like a villain in a cold war movie but Griff was unaffected.

  “Good night, Mr. Mihailov,” Griff said smoothly and led me away, Fawn trotting behind us. After we got our coats, Griff escorted us to the hotel. We walked in silence; the crisp night air was so refreshing after the stale ambience of the Polo Bar, but my mind was far noisier, running through the events of the evening. I knew that I was unmistakably attracted to Griff. It wasn’t just his showdown with Vlad—though his sudden display of manliness was very appealing—and sure, his looks had grown on me. But he was also kind, generous, and thoughtful. I was drawn to him because he took care of me. Geez, I tried to shake the thought free. I must be reacting to the disastrous night. That was it: I was vulnerable and Griff had saved me. I convinced myself the feeling was temporary.

  “Can you make it to your rooms on your own?” he asked once we’d reached the hotel lobby. “I’m not staying here. Too rich for my blood.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Fawn said and grabbed my elbow.

  “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?” he asked me suddenly. “Before the polo?”

  I felt Fawn squeezing me as a signal, and I was glad to have her there, otherwise who knows what might happen.

  “No thank you,” I said firmly. “I already have plans.”

  “Fair enough,” he said and marched off. When he was gone Fawn applauded me.

  “Good girl,” she grinned. “It’s hard to turn down an invitation from a handsome man.”

  “Handsome will only get you so far,” I said blithely.

  “Honey, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” she agreed. “It’s too bad, though. He seems to have so many other qualities.”

  “It’s not quality I’m after,” I said. “It’s quantity.”

  25.

  Cowbell

  I know he dislikes me as much as I do him.

  —Pride and Prejudice

  Just when I thought Vlad was out of my life forever, a huge bouquet of roses arrived with my breakfast along with a handwritten note and two tickets to the VIP enclosure for the polo. The note said, “Dear Kate, my apologies for seeming impolite last night. Allow me to make it up to you with these tickets for you and your friend. Yours, Vlad Mihailov.”

  The man couldn’t take a hint. The old-fashioned scheme to withhold sex obviously worked. Vlad was clearly determined to seduce me. There was little for me to do about it now. I would have to be civil with Vlad. But Fawn had already seen to it that we had VIP tickets so I decided if I saw Griff again, I would give them to him. He had helped me last night, it was the least I could do. He was still such a puzzle. I had texted Emma for advice, insight, anything, but she wasn’t getting back to me.

  “Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your Dear Jane Austen advice dispenser worked a little too well. Scott is back with Tatiana.” Fawn delivered the bad news as we walked toward the field of machine-groomed snow that was set for the polo tournament. She had abandoned her yellow puffy jacket for her mink, while I made do with my black fitted outfit from the first day.

  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 h
e 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.
r />   “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.