The Proud and the Prejudiced (18 page)

He moved within her in a slow, languid tempo,
punctuating each stroke with a soft kiss as if intending to tattoo the moment
on her memory. He had not lied. He had said he would make love to her, and this
could be called nothing less – not sleeping together or having sex or
intercourse or screwing. With each thrust, he pushed her deeper and deeper,
with the well of emotion overflowing until a tear trickled from her eye. He
didn’t ask why, only wiped it away with his thumb and kissed her lips again.

A force more powerful than gravity held her
against the bed, but her skin tingled and her limbs felt light enough to fly,
like a lead zeppelin. With such a relaxed pace, she didn’t think she could ever
come – not that she cared – but even in this he knew her better than she knew
herself. The sudden spark ignited a fuse wielding through her and took her by
surprise, and with little warning she exploded and cried out. When she did, he
claimed her mouth with the deep, probing kisses that drove her insane; and as
her tremors subsided, he convulsed within her.

He rolled to his side, taking his weight off her,
and they lay in silence caressing each other with their fingers, lips, and
eyes. They made love twice more through the night; bathed each other in the
garden tub; with wonderment, explored the other’s body with hands, lips, teeth,
and tongue. They said very little, no words of endearment of declarations of
love, perhaps both afraid they might say something to break the spell woven
around them. Instead, their bodies spoke for them, giving voice to every
ineffable emotion.

CHAPTER 17

Although they had fallen asleep entangled with one
another the night before – or, more accurately, earlier that morning – Alice
awoke in her typical sleep position, curled on her side, with her back to
Peter. She rolled over and found him sleeping flat on his back. The sight of
him in the daylight, so peaceful and beautiful, sent a tremor of memories of
their lovemaking from her core through to her face and warmed her cheeks. She
was smitten.

Should I wake him?
She considered cuddling
up against his chest, or maybe waking him with a kiss. She ultimately decided
to tend to practicalities and then wake him up. That might also allow her to
determine when and how to tell him.
Maybe I should wait until next time he
says it.
But he hadn’t said it again, not since “that night.” The way he
said she was afraid to admit it implied he expected her to tell him when she
could.

She continued to ponder as she padded into the
kitchenette in her thin robe to wrangle with the pitiful excuse for a coffee
pot and to figure out how to get a decent cup using the premeasured filter
disks. Glancing at the clock, she wondered why she hadn’t heard from Eileen to
begin their next tour since it was nearly noon but then realized she had
dropped her purse by the door with her phone in it. She had low expectations
for the coffee as she pushed the button, but she could always order room
service
. Perhaps that’s part of their devious scheme to get us to pay
fourteen dollars for a pot of coffee.

She retrieved her phone.
Thirty-seven missed
calls!
Twenty were from Mr. Peacock, and most of the others were numbers
she didn’t recognize.
Oh, no. This is not good.
Her heart rate
accelerated and nausea clogged her throat. Fourteen voicemails, but she didn’t
have the patience for that. She hoped someone from the show had texted her, as
Mr. Peacock assuredly would not.

Last text received a few minutes before from
Eileen.

Still in bed? Wanted to see if you two wanted to
break for lunch maybe dinner ;)

Eileen had texted earlier as well, asking Alice to
call when she woke up but not to rush.

Skimming over the other forty messages, she noted
one pervading theme. They couldn’t find Giselle.
Have you talked to Giselle?
Walked off the set yesterday. Never showed up today
. She scrolled down to
see if she had any texts from Giselle – none. She pulled up her email – nothing
there either. She called Mr. Peacock.

“Oh, thank God. Why haven’t you been answering
your phone?”

“I was sleeping. It was in my purse. Have you
heard from her?”

“Didn’t you listen to my voicemail?”

“Of course I did not listen to your voicemail! No
one listens to voicemails! Just tell me!”

“Rich was not happy to read about Raife’s
ordination.”

“No surprise there.”

“First he demanded to know where you are.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him.”

“Of course not!”

“What happened with Giselle?”

“Rich walked off the set, and Giselle went with
him.”

Before Alice could scream as she would have liked,
Peter walked in with a towel wrapped around his waist and curious concern
pouring from his face. “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Who are you talking to?” Mr. Peacock asked.

She ignored the question. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Did Giselle have any scenes to tape?”

“Yes, but they were with Rich, so we didn’t think
much of it. Today, though, she had an early call and never showed up, and no
one can find her.”

“She has been staying out late a lot recently;
maybe she’s still in bed.”

“Alice, I drove out there. She’s not at home. Her
door was unlocked, and it looked like she had left in a hurry. And…there was a
mirror on the table. Looked like cocaine. We can’t find her or Rich.”

Shitshitshitshitshit
. She covered half her
face with her hand. “OK, it’s noon now. See if they can get me on a flight to
L.A. around four.”

She ended the call and tore past Peter back into
the bedroom, yanking out her suitcase. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Giselle is
missing.”

“Missing? What’s going on?”

“Lemme call Eileen.”

Eileen answered with, “Well, hello, sleepyhead!”

“I have to go back to L.A. this afternoon. Giselle
is missing. I hate to cut into your vacation. You don’t have to come, but –”

“Of course I’m going with you! I’m having lunch
with Jack, but we’ll leave right now.”

“OK, good. I was hoping you’d say that. Why don’t
you call Peacock – he can get you on my flight.”

When she hung up, Peter had pulled on his pants
and was putting on his shirt. “What happened?”

She ran around the room like a madwoman throwing
clothes onto her suitcase and scrambling for her toiletries. “This is all my
fault. I never should have left. I knew he wouldn’t take it well but –”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Rich! When Jack dumped Giselle, Rich was right there
to swallow her up. I tried to warn her about him, but she wouldn’t listen –
thought I was jealous! And I couldn’t tell her the truth!”

“So Giselle is with Rich?”

“As soon as he found out about the change for his
character – also my fault – he stormed off the set and Giselle went with him.
No one has heard from her since.” She had nearly finished packing then glanced
down at her robe and began digging through the suitcase for something to wear
on the plane. “Peter, if someone finds out she’s using drugs, her image as
Sienna is ruined, and so is
All My Tomorrows.
She couldn’t be the
girl-next-door if she’s powdering her nose.”

“You know she’s using drugs?”

“She said just a little coke, and she swore she
didn’t get it from Rich and he wouldn’t even touch the stuff, but Peacock found
a mirror with it in her house.”

“It could have been ketamine. It looks like coke.”

“Ugh! I should have tried harder to convince her
he would drag her down, but I couldn’t tell her about Winnie; and I was afraid
if I pushed too hard, she would tell him and he would go to the press. I should
have written him out of the show as soon as I found out. I knew he wouldn’t
take the script changes well, but I had no idea…And after what he said to me, I
knew I had to do something!”

Now completely dressed, Peter stood in the doorway
watching her fly around the room like a Dervish. “What did he say to you?”

“He said he was mending Giselle’s broken heart,
and he could mend mine, too.”

“Why would he think you had a broken heart?”

She stopped and faced him. “The pictures, Peter!
The pictures in
The Intruder
!”

He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut a moment,
then he stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. “I know you need to get back
to L.A., and I’m doing nothing here but distracting you while you try to pack.
I’ll go and let you finish.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Goodbye,
Alice.”

As she stood stunned, glued in place, he walked
out without another sound except the door closing behind him. Comprehension
dawning, she ran out of the cottage barefoot and in her robe, but she only made
it to the parking lot in time to see him driving away. She slumped back to her
room to find she had locked herself out.

*****

Robert continued to ask me to marry him and I
continued to say no. I told him I couldn’t give up my dream of acting, which I
would certainly have to do as his duchess. Although in my mind I told myself
that Tony and I would never be together, my heart still held out hope that one
day he would respond to one of my letters.

Robert moved us to London so I could pursue my
stage career. I wondered if he thought I would fail in the West End and then
agree to marry him, but I didn’t. In the two-hundred year-old tradition, I
became an actress and mistress to a wealthy benefactor. After performing in a
few plays and a variety show at the Theatre Royal, I was cast in the lead in a
small British film. This then led to another film role in France, and Robert
followed me to Paris.

Then I got my first part in an American film,
Tainted. I was going back to the US for the first time in almost five years. At
first, Robert was upset and tried to talk me out of it, but then he agreed to
go on location with me in New York.

Near the end of the shoot, Mother joined us in
New York and came to our hotel suite to meet the duke for the first time. After
the introductions and her word to call him Robert and not Your Grace, I asked
what I most wanted to know.

“Have you talked to Tony?”

“No, only your sister has, and she won’t tell
him anything. Oh, Lexie, she is sick in the head. She needs help.”

“I need to make a few overseas calls,” Robert
said, “if you’ll excuse me.”

“Thank you,” I said as he went to the bedroom,
since I knew he only wanted to allow us privacy to discuss “family matters.”

I sat close to her on the couch. “What’s wrong
with Annette?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I have failed as a
mother. Tony wants nothing to do with his whore of a mother, and Annette is a
pathological liar. I am so glad I have you. At least I know you are doing well,
even though I never see you.”

“Tell me more about Annette.”

“She hates you and me so much, it is
incomprehensible. She hates me for cheating on her father and for adopting you.
She says Tony is her brother, and she will not share him with you. She has told
him wicked things about you.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“She told him you have been sleeping with men
to further your career, that you are with the duke for his money and
connections. She told him…she told him that you knew that you and he are
brother and sister even before you slept together. That you only did it because
of his inheritance since Molly had not adopted you.”

“Tony would never believe that.”

“I have no idea which of her lies he believes.”

“I know he would never believe that. Besides,
we never slept together.”

“But I saw you!”

“Shhh…Robert can never know any of this. You
interrupted us.”

“Well, Tony believes enough of her lies not to
want to have any contact with you. I am glad you are moving on with Robert. You
have no future with Tony.”

I don’t know why I didn’t cry. Perhaps I had
shed all my tears, but my heart ached. “Has he? Has Tony moved on?”

“I’ve occasionally seen him photographed with
women. I’ve never heard of an engagement, but that doesn’t necessarily
mean…He’s running for the Senate now, so in that way he has moved on.”

That night, when Robert asked me to marry him
after we made love, as he often did, I said yes. I had given up my dream of
being with Tony, and I was ready to give up my dream of being an actress. Two
days later, he held a small reception in the hotel to formally announce our
engagement. There he presented me with an engagement ring with the biggest
diamond I had ever seen. I acted thrilled. I acted happy. Then I realized that
I would probably be acting for the rest of my life after all.

On our last day in the US, I caught the news on
the telly and saw Tony’s face for the first time in seven years. I went
completely numb. The reporters screamed questions at him, asking him about his
senatorial campaign.

“Mr. Hollingsworth, how do you feel about the
upcoming election?”

“I am cautiously optimistic. I think the people
of my state know that I want to carry out my father’s legacy.”

“Mr. Hollingsworth, do you think your sister
renouncing her citizenship will hurt your campaign?”

He looked confused. “What? Annette renounced
her citizenship?”

“No, Alexandra Hollingsworth.”

He looked like he fell into the same trance
that had captured me. “Lexie,” he said quietly, more to himself than the
reporters.

“You haven’t heard that she’s marrying an
English duke?”

He said nothing as camera flashes bounced off
his face.

“Mr. Hollingsworth, do you think this will hurt
you in any way?”

“No comment,” he said and walked away.

Robert and I were married the next spring. At
my insistence, we had a small, private ceremony at his castle. I did not want
Tony to be besieged with questions about why he hadn’t attended the “royal
wedding” or open the newspaper to a full photo spread.

Then in August, everything changed.

Robert found me in the library. “Darling, I
have just had the most interesting call from my secretary.” He sat beside me
and took my hand, and I wondered what kind of news his secretary would report
that he would worry about telling me. “She said she was contacted by Senator Hollingsworth’s
office, your brother Tony.”

I held my breath. “Is something wrong?”

“No, darling, I should have said at the first,
everyone is fine. It seems he is coming to London, some sort of official
junket, and he would like to see you.”

I felt so dizzy, I thought I would faint.
“What? Why? Why now after all these years?”

“Alexandra, I know you have never wanted to
tell me why you and your mother are estranged from your brother, so I didn’t
know how you would feel about him coming here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, they would like to keep the visit
private. It sounds like perhaps your brother has never spoken of your
estrangement in public, and they thought it might look peculiar if he were to
come to England and not see his sister.”

“I…see.”

“What shall I tell them? Shall we invite him?”

I only thought for a moment. “Yes.”

*****

Another day passed with still no word from Giselle
– or Peter. Alice stared at her phone and willed it to vibrate, but she
couldn’t decide whom she wanted to hear from more.
No, of course Giselle!
The show, her career, her life were all in jeopardy.
But why won’t Peter
call?

Come to think of it, he’s never called or
texted me
. Maybe he didn’t have her number. Of course, if anyone could get
her number, he could. She played with her phone and toyed with the idea of
calling him herself, but she couldn’t understand what had happened to make him
leave so abruptly that morning. He wasn’t distracting her that much from
packing. After this incredible night of lovemaking, for him to walk out like
that made no sense. She could not have misinterpreted what happened between
them that badly.
Could I?

The way he touched her and talked to her –
had
it all been an act?
She would have to go back and watch all of his movies
to be sure. Had it all been some elaborate scheme to get her into bed?
But
why me? I’m nobody. He could have beautiful women lined up for him. He
certainly went to an awful lot of effort. Jack would have had to be in on it,
too.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
Yes, it’s this great conspiracy to
bed you, Alice! He probably followed you to Napa and hired an actress to play
his daughter. The Illuminati is probably involved as well!

No, something had happened that morning to make
him walk out.
Was he afraid he would be caught up in this All My Tomorrows
drug scandal? Does he think I am a terrible person for letting this happen?
Does he…does he think I slept with Rich?

She couldn’t think about any of that right now.
She had a show to rewrite. She stuffed her traitorous cell phone in her pocket
and strolled out of her office to where the others were sitting Shiva for the
show.

“I don’t suppose anyone has heard anything.” The
glum faces rendered her statement redundant. “OK, enough moping. Let’s get
busy! I think this murder mystery is a great idea! We haven’t had a good murder
on the show in a couple of years.”

“What are the other characters going to say about
Sienna?”

“That will be part of the mystery! Everyone will
ask if anyone has seen Sienna, dramatic music, viewers are hooked!” She
exaggerated her enthusiasm and optimism in hopes of energizing the crew, but
their expressions reflected her true feelings. If something didn’t happen soon,
they were going to start jumping ship, saving themselves before they were
drowned like rats in a sea of unemployment.

“What if Giselle never comes back?”

“Then during sweeps, they will find a decomposed
body. Everyone will be glued to their TVs while waiting for the dental
records.”

“And if she does come back?”

“Sienna’s been through a lot – she needed time to
think. She went on a religious retreat. She was going to be a nun, after all.”
They remained unconvinced. “Come on. This is not over! It’s not over until we
say it’s over! Was it over when the German’s bombed Pearl Harbor?” No response.
“Really? None of you has seen
Animal House
?” They looked at her as if
she were covered in purple spots. “I give up.”

Alice marched on toward the writers’ room when she
spotted Mrs. Jellyby in her path. She almost turned around to avoid her but
then thought better of it.

“Hi, Mrs. Jellyby. How’s everything going?”

Mrs. Jellyby shook her head and quivered, and her
eyes threatened an onslaught of tears. “Oh, Alice. I just don’t know. I don’t
know. I was just talking to the writers. Do you really think this serial killer
will work?”

“Well, if I didn’t think it would work, I wouldn’t
have thought of it. Would I?” Before Mrs. Jellyby could consider the logic of
that statement, Alice asked, “Have you heard anything more about Peter
Walsingham’s lawsuit?”

“No, dear. Not since the last continuance.”

“So you haven’t heard anything about it being
withdrawn?”

“Withdrawn? No. Why would…oh, you poor dear. Yes,
I saw the videos and
The Intruder.
I’m afraid you are going to have to
let that go. He’s not coming back. In time, you’ll be able to move on.”

Mrs. Jellyby squeezed Alice’s arm with a
sympathetic frown before walking away. A week before, Alice would have
corrected Mrs. Jellyby’s assumption about the pictures and laughed at the
notion she hoped Peter would come back to the show for her. Only now, it was
true.

*****