by Kim Izzo
“Answer me,” he persisted. “Why are you down here?”
He looked me up and down so intently that I drew my robe tighter.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I explained and smoothed my hair. “I came down to get some warm milk.”
He grimaced. I shrugged.
“Why are you here?” I asked, not wanting to be the only person caught someplace they didn’t belong.
He stiffened. “I sometimes sleep in a spare room beside the kitchen,” he explained.
“I saw the light under the door,” I pointed out, hoping to draw him in. “Mr. Penwick must be back from London.”
“The light is on a timer,” he said as if I were stupid not to know this. “It comes on during the night to fool intruders like you.”
My heart sank a little.
“Fine, I’ll go to bed,” I said and began to climb the stairs. “But aren’t those Jane Austen first editions in there somewhere?”
“I’d forgotten you knew about them. Now stop being nosy,” he said sharply, the niceness ending as quickly as it had began. “Be a good little girl and go to bed. Santa will be here in the morning.”
I shot him a dirty look and found I couldn’t contain the words any longer. “Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”
He bristled at this and stood watching me. Feeling brave, I stared back.
“I don’t hate you,” he answered finally. “I never want you to think that.”
I nodded, relieved. “You’ve been so terse with me since my friends arrived. You say we’re good friends, then tonight and just now you …” My voice trailed off and I waited for him to finish my sentence. He did.
“Are being unkind?” He smiled. “I’m sorry if you thought I was angry with you. I’m just not comfortable making nice with strangers.”
I nodded. If I thought about it, he was reverting back to how he’d behaved when I met him. I supposed it didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for me. But I still wanted to ask him if he was jealous. I wanted him to admit he was attracted to me without having to admit it myself. But it was all too late. I’d played enough games and I’d won—I was marrying my billionaire. I walked up the stairs, painfully aware that he was still standing at the bottom, watching me.
33.
Baby Talk
An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion.
—Mansfield Park
The early morning sun beamed through the double-glazed windowpanes that lined the upstairs hallway. As I glided down the long hall from my bedroom, I carefully placed each high-heeled step along the oriental runner. Silence was vital because I didn’t want to wake the others. There was no need for a welcome committee—they would see him soon enough. When I reached the grand staircase, I felt as though I was in a trance. Not surprising, when you consider I tossed and turned all night, reliving the dinner party as well as my 3:00 A.M. conversation with Griff. I blinked several times to try to focus my vision, as well as my mind, but it was no use. There was no antidote to Griff consuming my thoughts. Exhaustion had found its victim and only a lorazepam and a nap would cure it.
As I reached the landing, I heard the unmistakable sound of car tires crunching on the gravel drive. I flung open the ancient door and ran down the stone steps and into Scott’s arms, suddenly very awake and smiling from ear to ear. It was a relief to be so happy to see him and he held me tightly, happily. I clasped my hand in his like a schoolgirl and led him up the stone steps.
“Did you miss me?” he asked as we entered the house. “I’m sorry I’ve not been around. I can’t believe it’s been over a month!”
“You’re rotten to have abandoned me like this!” I answered and put my arm around him. “But I kept busy. Don’t you love this place?”
He looked about the entranceway and shrugged. “As long as you do, that’s all that matters.”
My heart sank, but I forced a smile. “I do like it. It’s very me.”
He slapped my behind. “Now, show me to our room.”
“Your room,” I corrected him. “We aren’t sharing until after the wedding!”
“Old-fashioned, are we?” He smiled as we climbed the stairs.
“Classic,” I corrected, then felt a shiver run through me. I had to find a way to shake last night from my thoughts.
As soon as we’d dropped off his bags, I gave Scott the tour of Penwick. I was proud of how much of an expert I’d become. It was also a chance to feel close to him again. Our brief time apart had muddled things, but seeing him and touching him gave me back the confidence I had that our marriage was the right decision. The doubts that had arisen over the past few weeks slowly retreated. Until, that is, we finished up our tour at the stables. I knew he’d like to see them, owning polo ponies as he did. But when we got there I was startled to find Griff mucking out stalls. He had always managed to disappear when I’d brought the others. The sight of him made me feel all mixed-up again. It was a state of mind I had to suppress and I willed any thought of attraction from my mind, concentrating on squeezing Scott’s hand. As soon as Griff saw us, he put his pitchfork down and, wiping his hands on his jeans, held out his hand to Scott.
“Scott, welcome to Penwick,” he said with some effort at warmth. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you,” Scott said and squeezed my shoulders. “I’ve made a wise choice, don’t you agree?”
Griff stared at me and for a moment I was afraid of what he’d say, but he smiled politely. “Yes, very wise.”
“You’re welcome to join us for the wedding, you know,” Scott said.
“He has to be in London,” I jumped in.
“Kate’s right. I’m wanted elsewhere,” Griff said and looked at me in a way that made me sad.
Scott nodded, then conversation turned to the upcoming polo season, which left me out of the loop entirely. I noticed Ratina poke her head over her stall. I went over to her, then gestured to Scott to follow me.
“This is the horse I’ve been riding,” I said proudly, stroking her muzzle. “Her name is Ratina.”
Griff smiled at us. “She’s a good mare.”
Scott ran his eyes up and down the horse. “What is she?”
“She’s a Hanoverian,” Griff said. “Had two great foals. She was quite the jumper in her day, too.”
“Isn’t she pretty?” I asked Scott.
“Sure, nice enough,” he said, as if he were bored. “Now, let’s leave Griff to his work.” He nodded to Griff and walked off toward the house. But I was annoyed. Scott could at least pretend to be interested in what I’d been doing while he was in London working.
“Shouldn’t you follow your fiancé?” Griff said matter-of-factly.
“I’ll do as I like,” I snapped, then realized I was taking out my frustration on the wrong man.
“That you will,” Griff snapped back and marched away, leaving me standing there alone. I looked at Scott, off in the distance, seemingly unaware that I wasn’t with him, and back at the barn where Griff had vanished. I stamped my foot hard on the ground. Ratina threw her head back in protest.
“Sorry, girl,” I said and stroked her face. “It’s not about you. But I’m beginning to wonder who it is about.”
Fortunately, the rest of the day went more smoothly. Fawn, Emma, and Clive got reacquainted with Scott while Marianne, Brandon, and Marco were introduced to him. We lunched in the morning room and had a lot of laughs. Scott regaled everyone with zany stories of polo in Dubai and sailing off the Ivory Coast. I insisted he tell them more about his charity work in Malaysia and this impressed them all quite a bit. But by 2:00 P.M. he announced that he had work to do and would need to be holed up in his room for a few hours, so after a swift kiss on my head he was gone.
Marianne took me aside and said very graciously, “Maybe I was wrong to be so critical.”
“Were you being critic
al?” I teased.
“Oh, stop it. I just want to say that Scott is handsome and charming; I’d imagine you’d be with him even if he wasn’t a billionaire.” She smiled. And I, of course, smiled back as if she were correct, although deep down I could sense the cracks were beginning to widen.
It was just the three of us, Marianne, Emma, and me, Thomas asleep in his stroller. Fawn had decided to go into the village with Marco in search of antiques. Clive had offered to drive Brandon around the countryside to point out famous sites that had been used for filming. Naturally, when left to our own devices, the three of us headed straight to my room and began to inspect my new wardrobe, courtesy of Scott.
“Oooh, I’m loving your spoils of romantic war. This is Lanvin!” Marianne gushed and pulled an emerald green dress off its hanger and held it up in front of her. “Can I try it on?”
“Of course!” I laughed. “It will be like old times.” Recalling our former habit of invading department stores and trying on designer clothes we couldn’t possibly afford, I explained this to Emma. She wasn’t obsessed with fashion like Marianne and I were.
“That sounds fun but kind of depressing,” she said. “I can’t even window-shop. It makes me sad to look at things I can’t have.”
Marianne shrugged and began to strip down as Emma examined my new set of Louis Vuitton luggage. “You’ve got everything but the steamer trunk,” she exclaimed.
“It’s coming next week,” I confessed sheepishly.
She nodded. This must be so difficult for her, I thought. Mere months ago she had plenty of money and beautiful things and now she had very little.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be so obnoxious about my stuff.” I waved my hands across my closet. “I’m being insensitive again.”
She shook her head dismissively. “I never went in for designer clothes, as you know,” she said with a wry grin and indicated her trademark jeans. “I’m perfectly fine with what I have—Clive and this baby.” She patted her tummy, even though she wasn’t showing yet. “In fact, I’m very happy.”
I smiled gratefully to her. Emma always liked things to be simple. I wish I had more of that quality in me.
“I can’t zip it up!” Marianne moaned in frustration. “I haven’t lost all the baby weight.”
“You look great,” I said and helped her out of the Lanvin.
“We used be able to wear each other’s clothes,” she fumed to Emma. “And now look at me. This will happen to you, too!”
“I’m not worried,” Emma said sweetly.
Marianne stepped into the closet and examined every item and every label like the fashion editor she was. “Tell me, does Scott have a brother?” she asked. “I think I could learn to be a rich wife, too.”
“I think Frank would be upset if I set you up.” I laughed, assuming she was teasing. She wasn’t.
“Frank is a good man. But we can barely afford our co-op,” she said ominously. “We make okay money, it’s true. But we want Thomas to go to a private school and you know what that costs in Manhattan.”
Emma and I nodded, even though neither of us knew.
“Just promise me when you’re back in New York you’ll take me shopping with you! If I can’t be rich, the next best thing is a rich best friend,” Marianne said with a wink. “I can shop vicariously, and if Kate wants to treat me to the odd thing, then that’s fine, too.” Marianne rested her arm on me and laughed as if to say she was kidding, only I don’t think she was. I knew money would change things and it can change people, but I thought that by marrying Scott the only person who would be altered would be me.
“Thomas!” Marianne shrieked suddenly. Emma and I whirled around, expecting that he had fallen out of the stroller and was knocked unconscious. Instead, he was sitting there happily gnawing on the leather strap of my LV envelope handbag. “You can’t chew Louis Vuitton!” She pried the strap from his mouth, but he began to wail like the world was ending.
“It’s okay,” I said hoping to calm her down. “It’s just a purse.”
“Just a purse! It’s expensive,” she cried and tried to settle Thomas. “I wasn’t paying enough attention. I think he ruined it.”
I examined the strap; it was gooey and a bit gummed down, but otherwise okay.
“It’s fine; besides, Scott can buy me another one,” I said to lighten the mood. “It’s not as if I’ve saved up for months to buy it.”
Then it hit me. All the beautiful clothes and accessories I had in my possession didn’t have any special meaning for me. They had all been bought by Scott. He had given me so much, but none of it felt like it belonged to me. I was overcome by the realization that there was something to be said for earning your own life of luxury, even if luxury meant different things for different women. The freedom I’ve always craved and managed to have in one way or another was luxury to me. I had avoided being married or taking a full-time job so I could be in control of my life, be independent, and not rely on anyone. And now I had sold that freedom to Scott. I shook my head, staggered by what I was thinking. What a terrible way to look at my marriage!
“I’m going to take Thomas for a walk,” I announced with a note of anxiety in my voice that I couldn’t hide. I needed to get away to clear my head. “You stay here and play dress-up.”
As I was leaving, I heard Marianne rummage in the closet.
“Emma, try this on,” she instructed, holding up a plum chiffon dress. “You’re still skinny, for now.”
I was thankful for the escape and pushed Thomas along Penwick’s now familiar footpaths. What had gotten into me all of a sudden? It must be wedding jitters. I was getting what I wanted. I would be rich and be married to a wonderful man. I could do amazing things with his money. I would be a philanthropist and help people. It wouldn’t all be shopping. And yet, and yet …
We ended up at the stables and I picked Thomas up from his stroller and held him so he could meet Ratina. She stuck her nose out above her stall door and I took the little boy’s hand and gently stroked her muzzle. He laughed and tried to reach out again. Ratina was extremely patient and held still for him to pet her. Thomas giggled once more and I laughed, too, and kissed his buttery-smooth cheek. He really was a sweet baby.
“You’d make a great mother.” It was Griff. He had been watching us.
“I don’t think so,” I said shyly.
“Why not?” he asked, puzzled.
“I don’t know,” I said and realized I didn’t have a real reason. “I like to travel and be free to do what I want. A baby needs stability.”
Griff pondered this for a moment and then said, “Maybe that’s because what you’re missing is a reason to be still.”
Thomas squeezed my finger and I smiled. “I don’t normally hold babies, or babysit,” I admitted. “But he’s Marianne’s and he feels like family to me.” I realized then how much I missed Ann and wished she were here. Part of me also missed Iris and now regretted my decision not to include her. It was for the best, I reminded myself. Soon she would know the reason for my detachment.
“Life can be quiet, Kate,” Griff said and stroked Thomas’s head. “Love doesn’t have to be explosive twenty-four/seven. If you’d slow down long enough, you might be happy.”
I ignored his comment as there was no proper response, and was content to watch as Thomas stroked Ratina once again and giggled even more. We both laughed.
“He’s a natural horseman.” Griff smiled.
I kissed the baby’s head. “I’d better get him back to his mother,” I said and put him back in the stroller.
“Before you go, I need to know one thing,” Griff said with an abrupt note of seriousness. I stopped and waited. “I can’t stop thinking about the dinner conversation last night. This whole charade of yours, chasing after Scott, pretending to be a lady, is all for an article?”
I felt my shoulders slump. It did sound bad the way he said it. “It started off that way,” I admitted, forcing myself to look at him. “I was just going to write a s
tory, but then I realized I could do it. I could be like Elizabeth Bennet and fall for the wealthy man and marry him and have it all and I did. And I needed to.”
“What do you mean, ‘needed to’? I know you’ve told me you’re broke, but this seems extreme.”
“It’s complicated,” I said and fussed over Thomas to distract myself. “And I never wanted to tell you about the article because you’re English—Austen belongs to England. I didn’t think you’d like an American co-opting one of your literary stars.”
“Austen belongs to everyone,” he corrected me. “Though I admit it wouldn’t be something an English girl would likely attempt. You Americans take a lot of, shall we say, creative license?”
I bristled at this. “It’s a fun idea; loads of girls back home would benefit from a better understanding of what it means to make a good marriage and—”
“Yes, yes, I get it. So, you fell in love with Scott and the article is—”
“Not written yet,” I said, choosing to ignore the fact that I wasn’t in love with my fiancé. “I guess I’ll finish it after the wedding. Not that I need the money now.” I smiled faintly.
“What does your fiancé think of your writing a self-help guide with him as one of the case studies?” he smirked.
My stomach lurched.
“He doesn’t know yet, so please don’t tell him!”
“He doesn’t know?” He grunted.
“It hasn’t come up, but I will tell him. I’ll let him read the first draft and if there’s anything in it he’s uncomfortable with, then I’ll edit it out,” I said rapidly, thinking on my feet. “He’ll find it amusing, I’m sure.”
“You appear to have it all worked out. But if I were him, I’d want no part in a Jane Austen Marriage Manual,” he said icily.
Good title, I thought, filing it away. But he wasn’t finished.
“Though you should know that Elizabeth Bennet was not so calculating in her choice of husband,” he added.
“I have to go get dressed for the party,” I said and pushed the stroller and Thomas away. So much for my escape.
