But when a young lady is to be a heroine … Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.
—Northanger Abbey
The first time I encountered heartbreak was the night my father left. I was four and have only the slightest memory of Iris’s hysteric wails in the darkness as my grandmother tried to soothe me to sleep. The second, I remember more vividly. It was after Ann’s first boyfriend broke up with her. It was late and far beyond the bedtime of a twelve-year-old like me, but as I soon discovered there is nothing quiet or still about a teenage girl’s broken heart. When Ann came home, sobbing, stomping, and slamming about, she woke us all. Bleary-eyed, I wandered into the living room and sat on the floor as Nana and Iris consoled Ann and railed against the injustice of her being dumped.
“Peter is a fool to listen to his parents,” Nana said critically. “You’re every bit as good as they are.”
As Ann cried, the story flowed with the tears; Peter had been told to break up with her because his family didn’t approve of the relationship. His father was a very successful real estate developer who owned shopping malls and condo towers and preferred his son to date girls from the local private school.
As I listened, half-asleep, to the drama unfold, it never occurred to me that Ann would probably have her heart broken many more times in the course of her life. All the fuss convinced me that this was a once in a lifetime event.
But that night stood out for another reason. Ignoring me as I slumped on the floor, my head on a sofa cushion, my grandmother told Ann about a man named Mitchell.
They had met during the Great Depression at a neighborhood café. My grandmother worked across the street in a dress shop and once a week, as a treat, she’d sit at the counter and order coffee and a sandwich. Mitchell was from some industrial city like Pittsburgh. He was in New York visiting a cousin and he asked Nana out the first time he saw her. He took her to a movie, even picked her up in a convertible that belonged to a relative. My grandmother still lived at home with her mother and stepfather, who were very strict, and she lied to them about where she was going and who she was going with. “Mitch was a sweet boy,” she told us. “We went out together for weeks. He’d pick me up after work and we’d walk in the park, or go to the movies, even went out dancing once or twice. But then he was to go back home.” She got a sad look on her face and her lip trembled, only slightly, and she continued. “Our last night together he asked me to marry him.” At this, I sat up and rubbed my eyes hard to stay awake.
“Our plan was simple. He would return in two weeks and meet me at the train station, we’d get married at city hall, and I’d go home to Pittsburgh with him.”
I blinked some more; the thought that I might have been born in Pittsburgh scared me. It sounded so far away.
Nana rocked gently on the edge of the sofa and wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her waist. “My stepfather found the one letter Mitch had written me, giving the date and time of the train. My mother was livid. Mitch worked in a factory, see, and that wouldn’t do. Pittsburgh was full of steel factories and no daughter of hers would marry a laborer. She spent her life on the sales floor at Bloomingdale’s and wanted me to have what she didn’t. Only a lawyer or doctor for me.”
My grandmother stopped her rocking and her eyes turned brazen, as though it were still within her power to defy her mother. “They tore up the letter and wouldn’t let me contact him or meet him. Of course I’d memorized the date, so I knew when he was supposed to be on that platform. But so did my mother. She made me stay in that house all day and all night. And Mitch …” her voice trailed off into memory.
“He just waited there,” Ann finished her sentence. “He probably thought you’d changed your mind.”
“I still picture him waiting, endlessly checking his watch, heartbroken that I never came. Then again maybe he didn’t show up, either. I never knew because I never had the courage to contact him afterward,” Nana said. “I certainly didn’t have the courage to stand up to my mother. Mitch was good enough for me. You’re good enough for Peter. Parents shouldn’t meddle. He’ll regret listening to his mother, mark my words.”
We all sat in silence, contemplating the future regret of Peter, a boy I’d only seen half a dozen times and I thought had greasy hair, when out of the quiet came my mother’s voice.
“The good news is that your grandmother met Grandpa,” Iris said. “If she had run off with Mitch then I wouldn’t have been born and none of you would be here.”
My grandmother nodded and smiled, putting her hand on Iris’s knee. I thought about this for a moment and shook my head. “We would,” I disagreed. “We’d just be living in Pittsburgh.”
Dawn arrived and it was my wedding day. The skies opened up and sheets of rain and hail pelted the stone terrace where the ceremony was to take place, a bad sign if ever there was one. I had sat up most of the night watching the storm gather, feeling trapped in my room like my grandmother on the day she was to meet Mitch at the train station. What if he had been her one great love and she’d let him go, only to make a life with a man she didn’t love who gave her artificial roses instead of real passion. I was desperate for my grandmother’s advice; she would know what to do. But she was dead and I was alone. For the first time since I’d arrived at Penwick I wanted to call home. I wanted my family, what was left of us, to pull me away from here and ground me. I supposed I was reacting from last night’s outburst. But it was too early to call Iris and Ann. Besides, how could they help? My intuition would have to do and do quickly for I was running out of time. But Lady Kate was still battling against plain old Kate’s gut instinct.
At noon I could be a rich man’s spoiled bride. I could be financially secure. I could have a home, or several. Yet what stood out above all was that Scott never said he loved me, or I him. I tried to remember any instance where we’d spoken the words but it was as though I thought I remembered it rather than it actually happening.
On the other hand Griff did tell me how he felt. His assertion that we were in love and that I wasn’t the type of girl to marry for money played over and over in my mind, like an annoying jingle you can’t get out of your head.
There was a knock at the door. It was Griff, I was sure of it. I raced to the vanity and, confirming that my hair and makeup was perfect, I flounced to the door.
“If you’re here to change my mind,” I snapped as I opened it to the puzzled faces of Marianne and Emma.
“Should we?” Marianne asked and marched past me. They were dressed in their bridesmaid gowns, which I had left up to them to choose. Each wore pink but Marianne’s was a sleeveless, floor-length gown with a high neck, while Emma’s was a miniskirt with long sleeves and an empire waist in case she suddenly started to show.
“I thought you were someone else,” I said with a light laugh.
“Evidently,” Marianne answered. “The ceremony’s been moved to the ballroom as you wanted.”
“Change your mind about what?” Emma asked.
“My hair,” I said, thinking quickly. “Up or down?”
“Definitely up,” Emma said.
“I like it down,” disagreed Marianne.
“Well, if you two can’t agree, how can you expect me to decide?” I said, laughing, and more than a little bit relieved to have so easily diverted attention from my earlier slip. “I wish I knew what Griff preferred.”
“Griff?” Emma said, intrigued. “Why do you care how Griff likes your hair?”
“I didn’t say ‘Griff,’ ” I answered, and felt my face flush.
“Yes you did,” Marianne shot back. “You clearly said Griff.”
“Well, I meant Scott, obviously.” I laughed artificially and rolled my eyes, as though the error had been theirs, but they continued to eye me suspiciously.
“Well, now that you’ve mentioned him, what happened last night?” Marianne asked pointedly.
I shook my head but I was suddenly very warm. Then there was another knock on my door and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“I have to get that,” I said urgently.
“Maybe it’s Griff come to tell you how to do your hair,” Marianne said sarcastically. “You know I did wonder if he was gay …”
“He’s not!” I shouted.
But when I opened the door it was Fawn, dressed in a long yellow gown, her hair teased as big as a daytime soap opera star.
“Is this where the party is?” she joked and sashayed past me, but she immediately picked up on the tension in the room. “What gives?” she asked. “You all look positively guilty.”
“What do you say, Kate?” Marianne started again. “Should you feel guilty?”
I didn’t know how to answer when I noticed Emma staring at her nails as if she had plenty to say.
“Emma, have you spoken to Griff?” I said accusingly. She looked up and smiled awkwardly.
“Clive did,” she said nervously.
“So, what happened?” demanded Marianne, turning her attention to poor Emma, who was feeling the pressure.
“Nothing!” I snapped at Marianne.
“What did Clive say happened?” my best friend pushed.
“Nothing,” Emma agreed sheepishly.
“See!” I said and marched to my closet and grabbed my wedding gown. “It’s time to get dressed.”
“This is intriguing.” Fawn sat down beside Emma, putting her hand on her knee for encouragement. “What is that phrase the preacher says at weddings? ‘If anyone has any just cause why these two people should not be married’? If you know a reason, Emma, be a good girl and tell us.”
I was livid. “Fawn, you of all people! Emma, you don’t have to say anything; there’s nothing to say,” I steamed, ready to boot the whole lot of them from my room as I began to slip into my dress.
“Tell the truth, Emma,” Marianne pleaded. As a fashion editor she knew how to drag gossip from anyone. All she had to do was ask and Emma was ready to cave.
“Griff doesn’t want you to marry Scott,” she blurted. “And neither do I.”
By this point my dress was half on, but hearing Emma’s words I panicked and somehow managed to become stuck. Trapped inside the sheath of oyster silk I couldn’t breathe or see and my earlier flush of embarrassment was now an inferno.
“Get this off of me!” I shouted and twirled around blindly until the others yanked the dress off, nearly sending me backward into the closet. I stood there panting in my underwear, my hair in a state, perspiration breaking out on my forehead. “Really? What else did the Earl of Penwick say about me?”
“Earl of Penwick?” Fawn asked with a snort.
“Oh, yes,” I said and marched over to Emma. “Go on, tell them. If you want to gossip, give the full story.”
Emma, suddenly indignant, rolled her eyes at me and shrugged. “Griff owns Penwick Manor; it’s been in his family for ages.”
“He’s a real earl?” Marianne asked in shock.
“Lordy!” Fawn practically shouted.
“Exactly,” I answered, finally cooling off. “And did he kiss and tell, too?”
“You kissed?” Emma’s eyes grew wide. “How was it?”
I flicked my hair back defiantly, “It was good. And for your information it wasn’t the first time.”
“That does it,” Marianne said flatly. “You can’t marry Scott now.”
“Because I kissed another man?”
“Because you’re in love with Griff,” Marianne corrected me. “It’s obvious.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Yes it is,” Emma agreed.
“No it’s not,” I repeated.
“You’re not denying it,” Marianne pointed out.
That stopped me in my tracks. Suddenly I had nothing to say.
“I knew it.” Fawn shook her head as though I’d let her down. “You’ve had a thing for him from the beginning. What did I keep telling you? If you wanted to marry money, you had to avoid Griff.”
I grimaced. She was right. I couldn’t deny it. I didn’t love Scott. I was in love with Griff. Exhaling loudly, I slid my back down the wall until I sat on the floor, propped up against the wall.
“You’re right,” I confessed. “I love him.”
“Thank God!” Marianne cracked, but then, seeing the troubled expression on my face she softened. “I knew you couldn’t marry a man for his money.”
“I only said I loved Griff; I didn’t say I wasn’t marrying Scott,” I reminded her and ignored the disapproving glare that followed. “I need to marry a rich man and Griff isn’t rich.”
“Maybe not,” Fawn said softly, “but Penwick Manor isn’t exactly a pile of rubble.”
“He’s barely holding on to it,” Emma interjected somberly. “He’s got nothing compared to Scott.”
Fawn pursed her lips at this unwelcome piece of news. Marianne shrugged as if Emma had only said that Griff was short or had bad teeth or anything else that could be easily overlooked.
“You can’t marry Scott when you’re in love with Griff,” she stated firmly, as if it were a done deal.
“But I can,” I said equally firm, trying to shake my doubts away like dandruff. “All I have to do is throw on this wedding dress and walk down the stairs into the ballroom and say ‘I do.’ It’s simple; a trained chimp could do it.”
“You’re not a chimp,” said Marianne, as though it needed affirmation.
“I’ll marry Scott for a year, get the money I need, divorce him, and then be with Griff,” I said, pleased with this compromise, then turned to Fawn as if seeking her permission. “Right, Fawn?”
Emma and Marianne also turned to her with the full weight of their disapproval bearing down heavily. A regular woman would bow to the peer pressure and agree with them, even if she didn’t, but not my Fawn. She knew how these matters were dealt with. Fawn smiled confidently. I smiled back.
“Kate, darling,” Fawn began, her smile still intact. “This isn’t one of your contract jobs. You may have been an acting beauty editor your whole life, but you can’t be an acting wife.”
Marianne looked relieved. But I started to tremble. All at once I became very confused, and my stomach felt like it would turn against me any second. “What are you saying?” I begged Fawn, overcome and exasperated. “You’re my mentor. You got me here; this is what we planned and we did it.” I forced a smile but felt tears fill my eyes. “This is everything I wanted, I can’t turn back now. Can I?”
She looked at me and I saw tears well up in her eyes, too. She quickly brushed them away and, hitching her yellow gown up above her knees, sat down on the floor beside me.
“Oh, honey,” she said gently. “I can’t tell you what to do. Only you know what’s right, what’s in your heart.”
“My heart? This isn’t about my heart! Love doesn’t conquer all. I need money desperately. I want my life back and I need to take care of my family. No one but me can do it; I can’t rely on anyone else,” I explained. But as I spoke the words, I realized I had relied on someone. I’d relied on Griff. He had been there to catch me every time I fell, literally and figuratively.
“Darlin’,” Fawn spoke and put her hand on my bare knee. “You’ve got to rely on people. I know you’re hurting because of all the bad things that have happened to you, but in order to live, truly live, you’ve got to feel pain, you’ve got to trust, and you’ve got to love.”
I looked in her eyes, letting her words sink in, when there was a loud bang on the door and we all jumped.
“Ladies, it’s almost time. You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Clive bellowed.
My friends turned to me, waiting for my decision. I couldn’t breathe. I looked past them and out the window where the clouds were as gray and threatening as they had been that first day at Penwick when I’d fallen and Griff had found me and carried me home, or rather to his home. As the rain pelted the glass I knew what to do; it was as clear to me as the rainwater that ran down the windowpane.
“I can’t marry Scott,” I said shakily. “I’m only going to be with a man if I love him.”
“Welcome back, Kate!” Marianne exclaimed and gave Emma a high-five. I giggled at the absurdity of my current predicament. Then I stared at the door. “Now what?” I asked stupidly.
“I think you need to talk to the groom,” Marianne said.
“I’ll ask Clive to fetch him,” Emma offered and went out the door.
“You did right,” Fawn said and squeezed my knee. “I’m proud of you.”
“Better get dressed,” Marianne suggested.
I was still holding my wedding gown when Scott knocked on the door.
“He sure doesn’t waste any time,” Fawn observed dryly.
“It’s me, Kate.” His voice sounded impatient. He would be so angry in a few moments.
“Hurry up,” Fawn said and tossed the wedding gown over my head.
“I can’t wear this!” I protested but she had already pulled it over me.
“You don’t have time to change,” she insisted. “Besides, you’ve got to wear it once.”
Scott barely acknowledged Fawn and Marianne as they stalked past him and out the door. He stood like a statue and glared at me.
“Well?” he asked sternly. “What’s the matter now?”
I hesitated. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t like that it was going to hurt him. I took a deep breath. “I can’t marry you,” I blurted at once and didn’t stop. With the worst of it out of my mouth, for the next several minutes Scott listened to me admit that I didn’t love him and that I wasn’t going to marry him, even though I had come very close to doing just that for his money. I told him that at one point I had genuinely believed we’d come to love each other, but I could see that it wasn’t possible. As I talked I was struck by how calm he was about it all. Unemotional, even. There was no show of anger, but there was no passionate protest, either. He merely leaned against the window watching me with his arms crossed like he was observing a game of chess.
“You’re taking it well,” I said when I finished my speech. “I guess you didn’t love me, either.” I’m not going to lie. The fact that his demeanor was so cool and unaffected irritated the hell out of me.
“Kate, let’s be grown-ups,” he said finally. “We don’t love each other, big deal. That’s for kids like Tatiana to believe in. We have to be realistic. I need you in my life; you’re a great asset.”
I blanched at being called an asset. “I want more than that,” I sniffed.
“You can have whatever you want,” he said turning on the charm. “Marry me today and if you don’t like it in a year or two we can get a divorce.”
“No, Scott,” I said confidently. “I don’t want to be your acting wife and my heart isn’t for sale, not anymore. I’m sorry.”
I thought how strange it was that after months of desperately trying to be close to this man, now that everything was out in the open I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I wanted nothing more than for him to leave, which I expected him to do. Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, poised as if to shake me, and so close I could smell last night’s cigar.
“Look, Kate, I’m desperate,” he said, not loosening his grasp. “I didn’t want to tell you before we were married, but business is bad.”
“What do you mean, ‘bad’?” I asked and shook myself free of his clench. His eyes had a wild look about them, like a caged animal. It frightened me.
“I’ve lost money. Lots of it,” he spoke rapidly. “And my clients are worried that I’ve done something wrong. I’ve tried to adjust their financial statements so that they wouldn’t be suspicious, so they wouldn’t worry. But Kate, people are circling me like vultures and threatening to call the police.”
“Oh God,” I said, afraid to even say what I was thinking. “You didn’t steal from them, did you?”
He started to pace back and forth, not looking me in the eye. “I didn’t steal anything; I moved it,” he said angrily. “Most people don’t understand the types of funds I manage. It’s complicated stuff.”
“That sounds like an understatement,” I said awkwardly. Then a sudden chill swept over me and it was as though the shiver that followed made the events of the past few weeks fall into place. “What did you mean when you said I was an asset to you?” I asked him, but I already knew the answer. All those wealthy men and women we were cozying up to in London weren’t just troubled by the recession, they were troubled by Scott, and he was trying to assuage their fears and using me to do it.
“Kate, I need you,” he pleaded and stopped his pacing. He looked at me and once more his lips turned up into that charming smile that I had craved to shine on me for so long. “I need a wife on my arm who will make me look like a good, honest man. Someone that people can trust. I’ll make it worth your while; that London flat can be in your name. Same for my New York apartment.”
“Sounds like you’re afraid, Scott,” I said, my voice shaking. “Are you in that kind of trouble?”
“I might be,” he admitted.
I was too stunned to speak. The whirlwind romance, the quick proposal, the even quicker wedding—I wasn’t such a gifted gold digger, after all. In fact, I’d been outplayed. Scott was far cleverer than Bernardo had been. I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Kate, I know all about you,” he said in a tone that suggested I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I know you’re just a nothing girl from Scarsdale. I know your estate is one square foot of dirt. I looked it up. Loch Broom Highland Estates is a joke.”
Yup, didn’t like it one bit. “When did you find out?” I asked, trying to maintain my dignity, knowing there was no point denying it.
“In Palm Beach,” he admitted.
“As early as that?” I was stunned.
“Afraid so. Your slip-up about croquet, and that little Scottish Colonel What’s His Name, MacKay. It wasn’t hard to figure out your scheme, just a few Google searches.”
I looked down at my engagement ring, talk about a joke, and twisted it off my finger. “You might need this,” I said and handed it to him.
“But none of that matters,” he continued, holding the ring in his hand, prepared to put it back on my finger. “You impressed me with your talent for invention; you’re a believable person. No one would ever think you capable of lying. And the fact that you can pass yourself off as a lady, hell, it’s a smart ruse, I’ll give you that. I know what it’s like. Do you really think I built anything for charity in Malaysia? I made that up! Never been. Never want to.”
I was stunned. “So, all you really needed was to transfer your assets and hide your money. I was your backup plan,” I said flatly. My mind went back to that night in St. Moritz, when Tatiana was sobbing in the bathroom because Scott found her searching his e-mail. “What really happened with Tatiana?”
“I couldn’t trust her; I wasn’t sure what she’d read on my computer, what she may have uncovered,” he admitted sourly. “Besides, she’s not as smart as you, or as good an actress. I’m asking, begging, Kate. I’m afraid the law may be closing in on me. I have to take care of things.”
I felt sorry for him. Really, I did. He was in a much worse state than I was and all this time he was putting on an act to rival my Lady Kate of Loch Broom. It seemed that neither of us was happy with our lives. We were chasing and chasing some abstract happiness, but were never within reach of it, not even close. It was all make-believe.
“I suppose this makes us con artists,” I said slowly and felt the sting of the words on my tongue. “I never thought of it before but that’s what we are. But not anymore, I’m done.” I slowly turned and walked toward the door, not bothering to look back. Scott never loved me. Yet he was willing to marry me to save his money. How alike we were. How vile. But there was still time for me to alter the ending to my Jane Austen dream turned nightmare, or so I hoped.
“You’re walking away from billions!” he called out.
“Good-bye, Scott,” I said. “Good luck.”