The Last Princess (20 page)

Knowing how important the garden was to Lily, he wanted it to be just the way she liked it. After all, he wanted her to love the Greenwich place as much as he did. Luckily, he thought, she seemed to be thrilled with the house.

Construction resumed early the next spring, and Harry began to talk about selling the farm, but Lily demurred. “Jeremy was born here. The children have grown up here. I just can’t bear to let it go.”

Smiling at his wife’s sentimentality, Harry said, “If you feel that way about it, we needn’t sell. But we can’t just let it lie vacant. It will deteriorate.”

“I’ll find someone to live in it,” Lily announced confidently, and two weeks later she had a tenant. The Gallaghers were an older couple who had sold their own farm and retired, but then found themselves unhappy guests in their children’s homes. They were almost pathetically grateful for Lily’s offer of the house rent-free in return for their acting as caretakers.

With that matter settled, Lily no longer dreaded moving day. It was set for the first of May; the wildflower seeds Lily had scattered in the meadow behind the Greenwich house, now called The Meadows, had burst into full bloom. Even she was entranced by the effect. But the moment they were settled she realized that the small housewarming she had planned was nowhere near what Harry had in mind. He intended an extravaganza comparable to her engagement party to Roger so many years ago. Well, if that’s what he wanted, that’s what she would do. With Jeremy home from school, subdued but apparently surviving, she was feeling particularly loving. Harry had earned the right to flaunt his success.

The gala was set for early June. Under her direction, the florists had outdone themselves. The profusion of arrangements had managed to soften Douglas James’s stark interiors into gentle beauty. The caterers had arranged a magnificent buffet, both indoors and out on the veranda, while a small army of maids and waiters scurried about readying the house.

At five o’clock, Lily got out of her bath, donned the satin slip and silk stockings lying ready on the chaise, then saw with a thrill of excitement the gown she had bought in New York the week before.

It had been a memorable occasion. When she got off the train at Grand Central, she kept picturing the twenty-one-year-old bride Harry had greeted in Manhattan so many years before.

The postwar Manhattan crowds came as a shock. Buffeted and out of breath, Lily managed to hail a cab to take her to the Plaza, where she planned to lunch. Heavens, had the city always been so noisy and dirty? The truth was, she supposed, that she wasn’t a city girl at all. Her childhood had been spent on Long Island and in the Swiss countryside, her married life on a remote farm. There had been only that brief time in Paris, and Paris was a far cry from New York.

Still, luncheon in the elegant Palm Court revived her spirits. As she sipped her coffee, she found herself taking a keen interest in the other guests. The women all seemed so chic, so beautifully dressed. She loved the long, full skirts and fitted bodices, the close-brimmed hats. This was apparently the “New Look” she had read about in
Vogue
. She determined to pick a dress that would make Harry proud.

After finishing her coffee, she crossed the street to Bergdorf’s. When she had found the designer salon, she mustered her nerve and approached a saleswoman and said, “I’d like to see some long gowns … Dior, perhaps?”

After that, Lily enjoyed every minute, suffering only a moment’s shock when she learned the price of the dress she liked was five hundred dollars. Heavens, the Schiaparelli she had bought in Paris years before had cost no more than a hundred. On the other hand, this was a special occasion, and they could afford it. Harry had told her to spare no expense.

“I’ll take it,” she said firmly.

“Very good, madam. And shall I arrange for evening slippers tinted to match?”

In the end, there were shoes, and lingerie, and luxurious elbow-length white kid gloves. Lily went home in a state of euphoria.

Now, as she slipped into the shimmering gown of the most delicate tea-rose yellow, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. The top was a dramatic halter style and the full skirt billowed out from a tiny waist, almost grazing the floor.

Lily heard the door open, and saw Harry come up and stand behind her. As she started to turn around, he said in a queer voice, “No, don’t move. You look magnificent, absolutely magnificent.”

“Do you really like it?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Like it?” He seemed at a loss for words. “Lily, darling, you look exquisite.”

Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a slender velvet box. Inside, there were the most priceless diamond necklace and earrings Lily had ever seen.

“Harry! … I don’t know what to say….” Lily remembered her mother glittering with jewels as she made an entrance, but she had never dreamed of, or even desired, such things for herself. “Oh, Harry—I’m not sure I deserve these.”

Very softly he said against her ear, “You deserve them. I always promised that I’d buy you the moon. These are just to tide you over till then.”

As she turned to face him, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. Taking out his handkerchief, he gently wiped them, then stepped back and said, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Downstairs their guests were beginning to arrive. Although Lily felt as if her social skills were rusty with disuse, she smiled graciously, hoping that the trembling of her knees was not apparent.

Since Ellis had had a hand in the guest list, there were many writers and people from the media whom Lily didn’t recognize. When she spotted Ellis’s familiar face she greeted him with more than her usual warmth.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he said before he was swept aside by a new group of guests.

As Lily shook what seemed like the thousandth hand, she thought with a curious kind of detachment that this was the social world her parents had planned for her. She recalled for a fleeting moment the Long Island estate and Roger Humphreys.

Glancing at Harry, who was the center of attention, she realized for the first time just how famous he was. He was reveling in the adulation tonight—and why not? If anyone had worked for his success, it was he.

By eight o’clock most of the guests had arrived, but Harry was inexplicably loath to leave his position in the foyer. He wanted to be there when his parents and brothers arrived. Although he had seen them regularly over the last few years, it had always been at Benjamin’s house or the farm. Well, tonight they would see just how far he’d come. At eight-fifteen Benjamin and Elise Kohle arrived, followed by Theodore, Anton, and Sidney with their wives.

Their first glimpse of Harry’s house as they turned in the drive had been a rude shock to them all. Ablaze with lights, the glass-and-steel pile had proclaimed Harry’s success. Now, as they crossed the threshold and beheld the costly decor, the sisters-in-law exchanged identical looks of dismay.

Seeing their faces, Harry admitted to himself how much he had wanted this triumph. His brothers had simply gone into the family business. His fortune was his own.

“Mother,” he said, kissing her, “I’m so happy that you could come.”

“Oh, my dear,” she cried, “we are so delighted to be here. The house is simply lovely.”

Then, as she greeted Lily, Harry turned to his father and said evenly, “I’m glad that you are here, Father.”

But to his shock, as the old man’s eyes met his, they seemed to hold nothing but genuine pride and pleasure.

Clasping Harry’s hand warmly, Benjamin said, “This is quite a place you have built for yourself.”

Harry turned to his brothers and realized that they too seemed genuinely pleased for him. “Congratulations, Harry,” Theodore said. “Before we join the other guests do you think you and Lily could show us the house? It looks like Mies van der Rohe. Am I right?”

Overwhelmed by their warmth, Harry took them upstairs, trying to conceal his pride as he pointed out the marble which had taken six months to come from Florence, the onyx in the bathrooms, the his and hers dressing rooms.

Lily trailed along behind Harry, listening in growing dismay. He had never been one to show off his possessions, let alone be impressed by his own celebrity. All that mattered to him was the writing itself. But tonight she found him shockingly arrogant. It was painfully apparent that he was determined to ram his success down his family’s throats.

Meanwhile, the Kohles could do nothing but nod and murmur. It wasn’t so much the house, for they themselves had been born into the greatest of luxury. But to think that Harry had achieved this on his own. They had lived so long with the image of Harry as a dreamer, they had trouble reconciling that long-held picture and the reality of this material wealth.

As they descended to the main floor again, Elise said to Lily, “We must get together again for lunch soon. I always love seeing the children.”

Lily scarcely heard her. All she knew was that she didn’t recognize Harry tonight. He was acting like a stranger, and one she didn’t like much at all. As his family joined the other guests in the living room, Harry cried exuberantly, “I’ve arrived, Lily! I made them eat crow!” He signaled a passing waiter and took two glasses of champagne. As he turned back to her, she saw a look of triumph on his face. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long. You know, without my hatred of them to inspire me, I would have given up long ago.”

Raising his glass, he proposed, “Let’s drink to success.”

Then, without waiting for her, he drained the champagne and strode out of the hall. Her own glass untouched, Lily found all her happiness turned to ashes. Tonight Harry had told her why this house had been built, and for whom. She suddenly wanted to tear the diamond necklace from around her neck and say to Harry, “This wasn’t to show your love for me, but to flaunt your success in front of your parents.”

Hurrying blindly through the crowd, she found herself face to face with Ellis.

“Well, Lily,” he said, smiling, “what do you think of this extravaganza?” Bending to kiss her, he was startled to see tears glittering in her eyes.

“Lily, what’s wrong?”

The concern in his voice evoked a feeling of such vulnerability that she found it hard to reply calmly. “Everything’s fine, Ellis.”

“Why don’t we get away from the crowd for a moment?”

In the quiet library, Lily sank wearily into the sofa.

“What will you have to drink?”

She shrugged slightly. “Anything.”

“I really fix a very mean martini.”

“Yes … I’d like that.”

He poured the liquid into the glass from the shaker. “Here’s to your happiness, my dear.”

The somber look on her face showed that word was clearly a long way from her thoughts. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Lily. I’m your friend.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I just feel like a stranger in my own home.” As she said the words, she remembered sitting in that pavilion on Long Island so long ago. She had been a stranger then, in the place where she had been born.

“Well, I can understand that. You have a house full of people whom you’ve never met before tonight.”

That’s true, she thought, my husband among them, but all she said was, “May I have another?”

He refilled the glass, saying, “I have a feeling there’s something you’d like to tell me.”

Lily ached to confide in him, yet she couldn’t admit to this new side of Harry she was just beginning to see, and how hurt she was by his failure to acknowledge her role in the completion of his novel. How could he think he’d written it out of hatred, not through her love?

“It’s hard to explain, Ellis. I guess I’m just having a difficult time keeping up with Harry’s success.”

Ellis sensed she wasn’t telling the truth, but tactfully forbore to press her. Instead he said gently, “Maybe there have simply been too many changes in your life all at once. Jeremy going to school, your leaving the farm. I know how much you loved the place.”

Lily nodded. Uncannily, Ellis had put his finger on the major reason for her sorrow. This house was not her home; it was Harry’s monument to himself. Touching Ellis’s hand, she said, “I guess that’s it. I do miss the past.”

“Well, you have good memories and when Harry simmers down you’ll enjoy your life here too.”

His gentle words gave her hope. “Perhaps you’re right, Ellis. You have no idea how much it means to me to have you as a friend.” She got up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Lily went back to the living room and for the rest of the evening played the part of the perfect hostess and proud wife. After the last guest had left and Lily and he went upstairs, Harry was still in an expansive mood.

“It was the party of the year, Lily, don’t you agree?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “You did an absolutely spectacular job, pulling it all together.”

“I’m glad it pleased you,” she replied quietly.

“At long last,” he said, “I think my family is going to treat me with the respect I deserve. They were knocked out by this place—”

She could bear to hear no more. “Harry, if you don’t mind, I’m awfully tired, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

But when the lights were off, Lily lay awake for a long time, brooding over Harry’s earlier words. Although in the weeks and months to come she would do her best to be a dutiful wife, she would never entirely forget his casual dismissal of her contribution to getting
Archie Sanger
published.

A
S PREDICTED, THE
MOUNTAINS
Roared
met with the same success as the other two volumes of the trilogy, but there was a greater price to pay. As Lily had feared, Harry’s life became infinitely more complicated. The public was already clamoring for his next work and his publishers were trying to sign him for two more books.

More disturbing to Lily was a Hollywood offer to adapt
Archie Sanger
for the screen. The studio hoped it had another blockbuster on its hands, on the scale of
Gone With the Wind
.