The Jane Austen Marriage Manual (31 page)

I changed into more practical clothes, a black turtleneck, dark jeans, black Burberry trench (again, thank you, Scott), and black Hunter wellies and headed toward the garden. Sure enough, there was Herbert bent over a shrub doing whatever shrubs needed done to them.

“Herbert,” I called out. “I want to go for a walk in the grounds. Is there a path I should follow?”

He stood scratching his head and looked up at the sky, before finally pointing me toward a wooden gate.

“Go past the stables and you’ll see a footpath into the woods. It leads to the meadowlands,” he said with a toothless grin. “It’s a bit slippery underfoot, so be careful. Looks like it might rain again.”

“I shall be,” I said, feeling very Austen-esque in tone, if not outfit.

After crossing through an orchard I reached the stable yard. There
wasn’t a soul around, but there were horses aplenty. Several poked their heads over their stall doors, and still more were outside in the grass paddocks. I wished I wasn’t so afraid because they seemed to want me to pay attention to them. Griff must be down here all the time when he was working. Penwick seemed like a lot for three people to manage. The Penwick family probably didn’t lift a finger to help, either. Maybe Scott should buy the property and then there would be changes. I would see that the estate was run like clockwork.

It was still cold out but I was determined to enjoy the brisk March weather. I picked my way down a narrow path in the woods that was covered by stumps and roots until the trail abruptly ended at a tall fence on the edge of a meadow. I could see over the fence to another footpath and supposed that you were expected to climb the fence to continue. I grabbed hold of the top rail and was about to pull myself over when I noticed a small wooden stile to the left. Much easier! I hopped down from the fence and put my right foot on the top step. I must have moved too quickly as my left foot was no sooner off the ground than the right slipped off the icy step and I catapulted through the air. My legs did the splits as my lower back smacked the stile before I landed in a heap on the other side of the fence. As I lay on the damp ground, I felt my back muscles yanked in different directions. The intense pain made me dizzy and I tried taking deep breaths to calm down. I managed to reach in my pocket to call for help but after fumbling around I discovered that I had left my cell phone in my room. How long would it be before Doris noticed I was gone? Would Herbert remember where he sent me?

After what seemed an eternity, I tried to roll over, hoping to grab hold of the fence to heave myself up, but it was no use. The pain was too much and each attempt to reach the fence was met with searing agony. I screamed out in pain and lay there, my heart racing. Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, as Herbert had foreseen, it started to rain. Softly at first, but within seconds the skies opened up and torrents of water soaked me through to the bone. I tried once more to get up, but my back went into spasms and I fell back down. Again, I screamed out in pain, only this time someone heard me.

“Hello? Are you okay?” a man shouted in the distance.

“I’m here. I’ve fallen and can’t get up!” I shouted back, unable to lift my head up to see who it was.

What came next can best be described as my worst nightmare. As I lay on the ground the earth beneath me started to pound in a distinct three-beat rhythm—
boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom
. Then I saw it: a big, black horse galloping across the meadow toward me. This was it. I was going to die. The monster would trample me until I was pulp. I closed my eyes and held my breath. But the pounding stopped suddenly and realizing I wasn’t pulp, I opened my eyes and squinted through the rain. The horse was a few feet away, quietly grazing, as its rider ran to my side. He wore a green raincoat and some sort of peaked hat. I strained to make him out, but my vision was blurred from the rain and smeared mascara. As he got closer, I thought I recognized him and wiped my eyes to get a clearer view. It couldn’t be … But when the man crouched at my side I knew I wasn’t seeing things.

“Griff!” I said, clearly dismayed. “What are you doing here?”

“Kate?” he said, equally shocked.

We remained in our respective positions, like some kind of bizarre tableau, until finally I couldn’t take the silence and the rain any longer.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” I explained breathlessly. “I asked; Doris said you were gone. I’d have never come here if I’d known.”

“I was supposed to leave today but decided on a final ride before driving to London,” he explained. “But I can see I’ll have to delay it. What happened to you?”

“I fell off that stile thing and hurt my back.”

“I see,” he said as rain dripped off his hat and onto my forehead. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

I thought back to our kiss and hesitated.

Griff smiled as if sensing my reticence. “Don’t be afraid,” he said smugly and extended his hand. “I won’t try and kiss you this time. You’re not really my type.”

“Very funny,” I scoffed. “Fine. I will grab you by the neck.”

“Good girl,” he said cheerfully. “Just don’t strangle me.”

Not until I’m safely at Penwick, I thought. I put my arms around his neck and he slowly hoisted me to my feet, but as soon as he let go my knees buckled and I grasped on to him. He caught me and held me tightly to his chest and there we stood, like marionettes waiting for the puppeteer.

“You’re awfully wet,” I said stupidly. The rain was letting up but we were both soaked through.

“It’s raining.”

“I’m freezing,” I said faintly and began to shake from the cold and the pain. I felt like vomiting. That’s what I needed, to puke all over Griff. Still, I must have looked pathetic because he was suddenly very caring and nice.

“I know a shortcut to Penwick, but we’ll have to take my horse,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I can’t, I’m terrified of horses!” I shrieked.

“You’re not going to ride him!” he barked. “I will lead him behind me. You can walk and use me as support.”

He leaned me up against the fence post as he retrieved his horse. The cold rain had dampened the animal’s warm coat so that steam poured off its flanks and its nostrils flared red. I’d never seen anything more frightening.

“He’s harmless, I assure you,” Griff said as he approached with the beast. “His name is Fred. He’s a very docile Friesian stallion.”

“Can’t I just wait here?” I said, shaking.

“No,” he said flatly. “You’re hurt, wet, and cold. Now, just shut up and let me rescue you. Put your arm around my neck and I’ll hold on to your waist.”

I shook my head.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“I don’t cry,” I said firmly.

He gripped me by the waist and I leaned on him. Fred walked on the other side of Griff, but I kept a close eye on him just in case.

“So, Scott is making an honest woman out of you?” he said after we’d taken a few steps in uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth. “He’s not here yet. I came ahead to make arrangements. He’s going to try and come on weekends. You don’t have to leave on our account.”

“I have no desire to see you marry the poor bloke, but thanks,” he said flatly.

“Fine,” I snapped. “You sound jealous!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

After we’d gone a bit farther he spoke again.

“Are you happy,” he asked. “Now that you’re set for life?”

“Yes,” I said resenting his tone.

“So why don’t you cry?”

“What?” I asked. Talk about a non sequitur.

“You said you didn’t cry. Why?”

I stared down at the ground, watching my black wellies trod the sodden grass. How did I want to answer that? I can’t cry? That I haven’t cried since my grandmother’s funeral and the house was lost? I shook my head and forced a smile.

“I’ll never tell.” I grinned, but then my foot snagged on one of those twisty roots and I screamed in pain again.

“Okay, that’s it,” he said impatiently. “How much do you weigh?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He looked me up and down. “Nine and a half stone?”

I glared at him. “What is that in pounds?”

“About one thirty-five.”

“I’m no such thing! I’m only a hundred and twenty pounds, thank you very much,” I snapped.

“Even better,” he said and tossed Fred’s reins over his shoulder. “Now, grab on.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bloody well carry you,” he snapped.

“You aren’t strong enough,” I snapped back.

“Aren’t I?” With that he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms. “Light as a bloody feather. Comfortable?”

“Not really,” I said huffily. The positioning left much to be desired but it was easier than walking or standing, not that I would admit it to Griff.

“We’ll get you to Penwick, My Lady,” he said sarcastically. “Even if it kills me.”

I wanted to say something equally sarcastic in retaliation but didn’t have the strength. I felt faint and dizzy again. All I wanted was to lie down and be warm.

I
was so relieved to finally see Penwick poking through the gloom. But we must have been quite the sight as Herbert rushed over without letting go of his spade and took Fred. I could feel Griff staggering beneath the weight of me. It was true, I did weigh one hundred thirty-five pounds. Actually, it was closer to one hundred forty pounds, depending on the day, but I was never going to admit it. The front door was within reach but I was dismayed when he turned and went toward the back of the manor.

“Servants entrance?” I asked with mock derision. “I am a guest, you know.”

“But I am not,” he answered flatly. “And this is the fastest way to the kitchen.”

“Kitchen? I’ve had lunch, thank you.”

“Don’t be daft. You’re soaked through. There’s always heat on in the kitchen.”

We burst through the door and he dropped me on a Victorian chaise. “Ouch! Jesus!” I yelped.

“I meant that to be gentler,” he said.

“Well, you failed,” I answered icily. We both stared at each other in silence, unsure of what to do next.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said as warmly as I could.

“You should probably get out of those clothes,” he said uncomfortably.

I slid up into a quasiseated position. “I think I can handle that on my own.”

“Quite right,” he answered. “I will go find Doris. She may be able to help.”

Doris was helpful. She brought me a thick terry robe and some slippers and led the way to the great room, both of us stooped and shuffling, where Herbert had lighted the giant stone fireplace. Two wingback chairs and an overstuffed velvet sofa were strategically placed for maximum warmth near the fire.

“Thanks, Doris,” I said softly. “Can I get changed in here?”

“Of course,” she said. “Do you need help?”

I did, but was too shy for that sort of help. “I’ll manage, thanks.”

After the door closed, I tried to remove my wellies but the pain was too much. I shook off my coat and peeled my long turtleneck from my back and arms. I had just slid out of my bra when there was a knock and the door swung open. I quickly clutched the bathrobe to my breasts.

It was Griff. Seeing my state of undress, he averted his eyes. “Pardon me, I didn’t realize you were … I thought Doris was in here.”

“You’re supposed to knock first, then wait for an answer.” I glared at him. “You don’t just barge in like you own the place! Now turn around so I can get into my robe.”

He did as he was told. I saw that he was carrying an armful of towels.

“What are those?”

“Hot towels. I had them sitting on the Aga for you,” he said loudly, as though with his back to me I couldn’t hear him. “May I turn around now?”

“Yes,” I said and couldn’t help smiling. “That was very nice of you.”

He turned and handed me the towels and, seeing my expression, he smiled also. Then we both giggled like schoolchildren.

“I suppose I should turn around again so you can wrap yourself up?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” I said. After he turned, I removed
the robe and wrapped myself in one of the towels. It was as soothing as a cup of tea. But with my jeans and boots still stuck to my skin, true comfort eluded me. There was only one solution.

“Griff,” I said imploringly. “Can you please pull off my boots? I can’t do it on my own and I can’t get warm with these soaking wet jeans on.”

He slowly turned and walked toward me. The fire crackled loudly. I shivered and my lower lip began to tremble from the damp chill that had penetrated my bones, but also from an unexpected nervousness. My reaction startled me. I had forced Griff from my mind weeks ago, but he was stirring things up that I had thought were buried for good.

“You’d best hang on to the chair,” he directed. I grabbed the chair and slowly, carefully, he twisted and pulled until each boot was off.

“Are you all right to take off your jeans?” he asked.

I nodded. He went to leave.

“Don’t go,” I said, startled by the urgency in my voice. “Just in case I need you,” I quickly added.

“I’ll keep my back to you once again,” he said and didn’t take another step.

I somehow managed to slither out of my wet jeans, which was no easy feat. Once they were off, I grabbed the remaining towel and wrapped it around my naked body. I should have slipped back into the robe immediately but instead I found myself uttering the words: “You can turn around now.”

He did as he was told. I stood there and smiled, wearing only a towel, my hair wet and not a stitch of makeup on. It was his turn to be frozen to the ground. I didn’t understand why I was behaving this way. I was engaged to Scott. Griff had taken care of me. I was grateful for that. Maybe that was what I was feeling; gratitude, that must be it.

“Thank you for the towels,” I said. “When I was little my grandmother would warm towels in the oven and wrap us up in them after our bath.”