The Jane Austen Marriage Manual

by Kim Izzo

  “Why are you in a hurry?” she asks. “I love what you did and I have loads of other freelance articles for you to write.”

  I don’t bother to sit down. I smile and say, “I’m taking a break from writing.”

  She looks aghast, as if I’ve slapped her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m joining the family business,” I answer as gamely as I can.

  38.

  Ever After

  If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.

  —Sense and Sensibility

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  They say time heals all wounds. And nothing makes time stretch like working twelve hours in a steamy kitchen slicing, dicing, and stirring five different types of special sauce. In six months of kitchen duty, my wound hasn’t healed nearly enough for me to say I am over him. By him, I mean Griff. I still think of him daily, often alone at night when I crawl into bed on my sister’s pullout sofa, but also when I am stirring that bubbling brownish red goo. There is something meditative about the process and involuntarily my thoughts drift back to Penwick, to my days riding Ratina, and my conversations with Griff. How just a few weeks can impact a life! For despite months of chasing Scott I think little of him now, but Griff is an ache that pounds sharply in my chest.

  Speaking of Scott, he was arrested for fraud and embezzlement, but not until after he had married Tatiana. According to Fawn, who knew many of the people who lost money, Tatiana admitted she had understood all the e-mails she’d read that night in St. Moritz, and after they were married she wisely convinced him to put a lot of his assets solely in her name so that when he was arrested, his property confiscated, and his bank accounts frozen, she had already accumulated millions of her own. Now she was filing for divorce. It was perhaps the cleverest of all bank heists. Scott had underestimated her.

  To think that could have been me. But Tatiana’s money still belongs to other people and I am no thief. Making sauce is making money the honest way and that is just fine.

  Doug and Ann had grown the company enough to employ Iris, as well, and to get her some much-needed counseling. She goes to classes, or sessions I suppose you’d call them, twice a week, including Sundays. We refer to it as her “Sunday school.” I am living rent free with Ann until all my searching for a rich husband debt is paid off. Life is all right. I am managing.

  I would have carried on like this, until one day it comes in the mail—an invitation to Clive and Emma’s baby christening. They had a son they named Jonathan. Clive got another job at a bank but it’s at a branch in Dorset, not London. They are still living with his mother for now, but Emma assures me that the extra pair of hands is helpful with the baby. I want to go. I want to bake her a lasagna and help. And it isn’t just a regular invite; Emma asked me to be Jonathan’s godmother. It is a huge honor and I want to accept but I don’t have the money to fly back to England. The thought that Griff will be invited to the christening also gives me pause. I’m not ready to see him again.

  “You have to go back,” Ann insists when I tell her about it.

  “I can’t, it’s too expensive,” I say.

  “I’ll pay for you,” Ann offers and a wide smile comes across her face.

  “No, you can’t do that,” I say and wave my hand. “You’re just starting a business.”

  “I have capital,” Ann corrects me, her smile growing even wider. “In fact, we can all go. It’s a research trip; Doug and I can meet with Waitrose or Marks and Spencer, even bring Mom with us.”

  My eyes stare at her in disbelief. “I’ve always wanted to go to England,” she continues. “We could use a family holiday and besides, isn’t the christening awfully close to your birthday?”

  She has me there. My forty-first birthday is two weeks after the christening. A year after our grandmother had died.

  “I’ll arrange everything,” she says gleefully. “Now, you call Emma and tell her you’re going to be the godmother. Do it.”

  “Holy shit, it is like an Austen novel!” Ann exclaims from the back of the rental car as Doug slowly cruises past Penwick. I had tried to dissuade my family from spying on Griff this way, but they just stuck me in the backseat and said they would act lost if anyone came out of the house. No one did. But we are down the drive and on the road to the village church before I can breathe again.

  “Will your Griff be at the church?” Iris asks.

  “He’s not ‘my Griff,’ ” I correct her harshly. “Never was.”

  “I’m sure it will be a large party,” Ann says reassuringly. “You will hardly see him unless you want to.”

  That is the trouble, I think sullenly. Part of me does want to see him, even though I know he despises me. My thoughts run back to his cruel words that I behaved in an unladylike manner. Even though I know he’s right, I want to prove to him that he is also wrong and that the real, plain Kate is ladylike and no fool.

  We find the church and park the car. There seems to be quite a crowd gathering. Ann is right. It will be a big party, which means that Griff sightings will be few and far between. I leave my family to find seats as I go to find the private church room where Emma told me to meet her. But before I take even a few steps, my name comes loud and clear across the parking lot and it comes with a southern drawl.

  “Lady Kate!”

  I turn to see Fawn running toward me on her signature dove gray kitten heels. We throw our arms around each other.

  “I haven’t been called that in a very long time,” I comment wistfully.

  “Darlin,’ I just can’t get used to you being regular ol’ Kate!” Fawn beams. “You’ll always be a lady to me.”

  “I’m so glad Emma invited you.” I smile at the irony of her words. If only Griff could hear her!

  “She’s a doll!” Fawn grins. “And since I’ve moved to Europe to be with Marco, I haven’t had a chance to see you, so this is perfect.”

  We walk toward the church arm in arm and catch up on things beyond what we’ve shared in e-mails since my ill-fated wedding day. We find the private room and knock.

  “I’m sure Emma would love to say hello,” I say to Fawn as we walk into the room.

  “Kate!” Emma shouts and runs over. We clutch each other tightly, but I notice as Emma squeezes me that Fawn is staring awkwardly at the ground, which isn’t like her. I pull gently away from Emma and touch Fawn’s arm.

  “What’s wrong, Fawn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I say, half joking.

  “Oh, yes,” Emma says knowingly. “I wanted to tell you about it sooner. Griff is to be Jonathan’s godfather.”

  I look up and there he is, standing across the room, holding the baby in his arms as Clive chats to the priest. He hasn’t seen me yet, but from Fawn’s reaction, she had seen him the moment we entered the room.

  “That’s just charming,” Fawn says to Emma with a big smile.

  “Does he know I’m here?” I ask nervously, wondering how long it will take for him to notice me.

  “He does now,” Fawn says and points. My eyes follow her gesture and I find myself staring into those giant blue eyes again.

  “Is this the godmother?” the priest asks jovially.

  Emma leads me toward him and we shake hands as though meeting for the first time. “Have you met Griffith Saunderson? He’s to be your partner in this.” Griff barely ekes out a smile as he shakes my hand. Feeling his touch again, I am torn between wanting to pull him toward me and kiss him and slapping him across his handsome face for hurting me.

  “We have met,” I respond.

  “Indeed,” Griff answers, then proceeds to turn away and follow the priest and the others into the church. The priest’s words, “He’s to be your partner in this,” echo in my head as the ceremony begins and I perform the rituals required of any good godmother.

  Throughout I keep wishing for Griff to make any gesture of warmth, a smile, a knowing look, but he blatantly ignores me.

  Before I know it, I am in the church garden
and drinking a Pimm’s. Fawn hit it off with Ann, Doug, and Iris and is situated beneath a giant chestnut tree discussing the food business, Marco’s coffee and Ann’s sauces. I take my drink and stand off alone, watching Emma and Clive introducing their son to the guests.

  “They look happy, don’t they?” a voice asks. I don’t bother to turn around. I know Griff is right behind me.

  “They deserve to be happy,” I say, desperate to keep any whiff of nerves out of my voice. “We all do.”

  “And have you figured out the key to your happiness, Kate?” he asks.

  If only he knew. But I give him the answer that matters most to me.

  “Family,” I answer and move my gaze to Iris, Ann, Doug, and Fawn under the tree chatting merrily. “And friends.”

  “Ah, but what about love?” he asks. He is so close I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and I shiver.

  “Family and friends are love,” I answer, still refusing to turn around. How dare he talk to me like this? There had been no e-mails, no text messages, not a word for six months and now he is behaving like an intimate friend?

  “Yes, but surely you need more than friends and family to be truly happy; what about romance?”

  That does it. I whirl around ready to tell him off when he grabs me and kisses me. I am too shocked to resist and as he continues to kiss me, his arms wrap around my waist and I lean into him. I wonder if everyone is watching but I realize I don’t care. When we pull away he gently touches my cheek. My eyes close against his fingers and I smile as the tears come but stop short of falling.

  “What are you doing?” I manage to blurt out.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he says quietly. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Don’t play with me,” I snap suddenly and turn and walk away from him.

  “Kate, stop!” he shouts. I notice that quite a few guests, including my clan, witnessed the kiss and now the brief chase. “Come with me for a drive.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say in a muffled voice. “Why should I?”

  “Because I’m asking nicely,” he retorts and smiles for the first time that day. “And because I love you.”

  I feel my eyes widen and my jaw go slack. Maybe I’m asleep and I am going to wake up and still be on the flight to Heathrow.

  “I should never have let you go,” he continues breathlessly. “I’ve thought about you constantly. And Emma, well, she’s kept me informed. I know you’ve been working with your sister and that’s wonderful. It’s great you’re building such a life for yourself back home. But Emma said you still had feelings for me, too.”

  I shoot Emma a scathing look of betrayal but she is busy cooing over Jonathan with some lady in a shocking pink outfit wearing two different shoes.

  “You said I lacked character and judgment. And that I was no lady,” I remind him.

  “I cringe when I think of how I behaved and what I said,” he answers passionately. “But it was my ego talking. When you said you were still going to marry Scott I was jealous and hurt. I was a fool and not a gentleman. Can you forgive me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I love you very much and know you were in a desperate state and were doing what you thought was right, even though it was a half-baked scheme,” he pleads. “If I could take back those words, dear Kate …”

  I look into his eyes, so big and blue, they are a beacon to me.

  “Will you have me?” Griff asks.

  I wait just long enough to make him squirm; not enough to be cruel, but enough to make him wonder. I have fantasized about this moment for months, whether stirring sauce or lying awake on the sofa, and yet the reality of it far exceeds my dream. There is only one possible answer for me to give him. I smile and nod. He grins widely and kisses me again.

  “Then let’s go home,” he says.

  It’s two weeks after the christening and I’m on my hands and knees, scrubbing at the scuffmarks on the white-and-black floor in the entranceway. I’m living the fairy tale, only it’s the reverse Jane Austen story, where I become a scullery maid instead of a wealthy wife. I have no idea where Griff and I will end up. I’m still not sure about marriage. Neither is he. We are going to live together and see what develops. What we both know is that we’re in love. Unconventional has been a sort of code my whole life and I see no reason to stop it now.

  I work at the house all day helping Doris and Herbert keep it clean. There are many improvements to be made and I have this idea of opening a spa on the estate. I’m going to London to meet editors at the fashion magazines so I can flex my beauty editor muscles and drum up buzz. It makes sense. Penwick is a relaxing place when you’re not marrying the wrong man or passing yourself off as someone you’re not.

  I look up from my scrubbing and see Griff come toward me. He was out riding. I ride nearly every day now, too. It’s great exercise. He sees me give him the look. The look that says “Don’t even think about crossing my clean floor in your dirty riding boots,” and he retreats to the mudroom. I smile.

  I’m finished with the floor and it’s time to change. We have a party at Penwick tonight. My forty-first birthday is today and as usual, I’m not the least traumatized by turning another year older. In fact, despite my harrowing debut, I’m okay with the forties—in fact, I’m perfectly fine with forty-one.

  Ann, Doug, and Iris are still here, as are Fawn and Marco, Emma and Clive, and in a final feat of sisterly love and indulgence and a large order from Waitrose, so are Brandon, Lucy, and their daughter, Stella, and Marianne, Frank, and Thomas. Sauce sells. If only my grandmother could see me now. She would have loved Penwick and Griff. I like to think she is watching and smiling. I have the great estate I always wanted, albeit with a debt load to match, but we’re working on that. As I climb the great staircase, the opening line of Pride and Prejudice plays in my mind. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” And as I begun my story with my own twist on those words, I’m going to end my story with this variation: “It is also a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman of forty who is in want of love, needs to follow her heart and when she finds the right man, rich or poor, that is fortune enough for her.”

  Acknowledgments

  I wouldn’t have completed this novel if it hadn’t been for the encouragement of my early readers and “critics”: Kate Mayberry, whose first name I borrowed for the main character and who spurred me on to make it as funny as possible, Athena McKenzie, Vivian Vassos, Arlene Stacey, Suzanne Boyd, Meredyth Young, and Jamie Reid for providing support and insight.

  The novel would have remained a personal exercise if it weren’t for the invaluable judgment of my film-rights agent, Jerry Kalajian, who, after reading the first draft, gave spot-on notes and believed in me as a fiction writer. Then there is the incomparable Diana Beaumont, my dear friend, wise editor, and superlative agent, who saw something in this story of mine and pushed me to get it right. And the glamorous Grainne Fox, who jumped on as coagent and made it happen in North America. Huzzah, indeed!

  I’d like to thank my fabulous editors, my own version of the “three tenors,” namely Isobel Akenhead from Hodder & Stoughton, Brenda Copeland from St. Martin’s Press, and Jennifer Lambert from HarperCollins Canada, who believed in this book and willingly worked together across borders and time zones and made it so much better. And to everyone behind the scenes at all three publishing houses in London, New York, and Toronto, some of whom I’ve met and others I know only by name, who gave their expertise in copyediting, design, layout, marketing, sales, publicity, and the digital universe, I say thank you, thank you!

  I’d also like to thank Griffith Saunders for the use of his name. I also thank his parents, Doug Saunders and Elizabeth Renzetti, for saying yes and for giving me a roof in London for my research trips.

  And continuing gratitude to my family and my friends and colleagues at Zoomer magazine, particularly Julie Matus, and my sl
ew of “horsey” friends and others who continue to cheer me on.

  Finally, thanks and love to my own Mr. Rich, Richard M. Ilnycki, who makes my life complete, and that is certainly fortune enough for me.

  About the Author

  KIM IZZO is the co-author of the international bestseller The Fabulous Girl’s Guide to Decorum and its sequel, The Fabulous Girl’s Guide to Grace Under Pressure. She has appeared on numerous television and radio shows, including Oprah, The Today Show, The O’Reilly Factor and Canada AM.Her advice and opinions have appeared in the pages of The New York Times Sunday Style section, InStyle, Marie Claire, Glamour, Redbook, Cosmopolitan and Vogue (UK). She lives in Toronto. This is her first novel.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Praise

  “Kate Shaw is the Bridget Jones for our age. Unstoppable, unflappable, full of charm and quick-witted manoeuvr es, she trips, stumbles, and soars her way into our hearts. This is a seriously funny book!”

  —WILL FERGUSON,

  three-time winner of the Leacock Medal for Humour

  “Kim Izzo has written a humorous and engaging modernday love story. Kate Shaw is a romantic who will inspire a new generation, whether they’re looking for love, or have already found it.”

  —NIA VARDALOS,

  screenwriter and actress, My Big Fat Greek Wedding

  “An engaging and amusing read…. Dares to explore a desire that most modern women would deny, namely the wish for a Mr. Dar cy who will sweep us off our feet and pay off all our credit cards—and not necessarily in that or der.”

  —LAURIE VIERA RIGLER,

  author of Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict

  “This delightful and witty book contains a meaningful

  message. A very satisfying read.”

  —KATIE FFORDE,

  bestselling author of Summer of Love

  Nonfiction coauthored by