The Last Princess (26 page)

The next day, despite her protests, Harry insisted on driving her up to the farm.

Mrs. Gallagher greeted them, her face lined with grief and concern. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Kohle, Mr. Kohle. Such a tragedy.”

Harry carried Lily’s bags up the stairs to their old bedroom. Memories of their first days together there, and of their children, came back to him in a rush as he made his way through the halls. After they had coffee and crumb cake, which Mrs. Gallagher insisted on serving, there was nothing for him to do but leave. On the ride up he’d decided he would stay only if Lily asked him to. But Lily was wrestling with her own grief, trying hard not to let her sadness harden into bitterness. Harry kissed her quickly on the cheek, and when he walked to the car, she didn’t so much as wave.

“Come home soon, Lily,” Harry called to her from the car window. And then he was gone. Lily gazed into the distance long after the car had disappeared. With a pang of relief, she realized that she did still love him. But it would take time—perhaps a lifetime—for her to forgive him for Jeremy’s death.

H
ARRY BROODED ALL THE
way back to New York. He knew for certain that Lily blamed him for Jeremy’s death, as surely as Drew did. Didn’t they realize how much he’d loved his firstborn son? If he’d pushed him, wasn’t it only because he wanted the best for him? If only Lily knew how guilty he felt, how responsible. He never would have encouraged or scolded the boy had he known it could come to this.

The first thing Harry did upon returning to Sutton Place was start a fire in the fireplace. He hoped to shake the chill that had gone straight through his bones. Even as he poked the kindling, he feared that the iciness he felt within him was caused only partially by the cold. Jeremy’s suicide would linger in him like a perpetual frost. Harry made himself a stiff drink and sat before the fire, staring hard into the flames. Hours later, when he heard the front door open, he bolted from his chair.

“Lily?” he cried hopefully. “Is that you?”

“No. It’s me. Valerie.”

Harry tried to hide his disappointment. “Oh, I thought maybe you were my wife.”

“I tried you up at The Meadows, and they said you were taking Lily to the farm, then coming up here this evening. I thought you might want to discuss getting back to work.”

“Oh, Valerie, I don’t think I want to go back to that quite yet.”

“Of course,” said Valerie. “I understand.” She turned to go but then paused. “You look like you could use some company. Someone to talk to …”

It was Lily Harry hoped for, but really he needed someone—anyone—to listen. He’d been penned up with his grief for too long. Gratefully, he accepted Valerie’s offer. She was so good to him.

For the next hour, Harry poured out his feelings. His guilt about Jeremy, his grief, his anger at Drew’s blaming him and at Lily’s abandonment. He said far more than he’d intended to say, yet somehow—was it the fire, the Scotch, or Valerie’s kind, encouraging eyes turned upon him—he couldn’t help but go on.

When he had finished, Valerie sighed sympathetically and put her hand on his. “Oh, Harry, this isn’t the kind of treatment you deserve.” She moved to the bar and poured them each another drink. She then gave voice to all the bitterness that Harry was feeling. She decried Drew’s outburst and nodded disapprovingly over Lily’s decision to go to the farm. Little did Harry realize how she was playing up to his emotions, taking full advantage of him when he was so vulnerable.

Valerie’s words fell on receptive ears. Harry had always valued her as a competent, efficient secretary. But now, suddenly, he began to see her for the charming and seductively beautiful woman she was.

Handing him his drink, she said, “Oh, Harry, a man of your genius shouldn’t have to put up with all this.”

In a swift move, Harry drew her to him. He kissed her with a passion that was returned equally in her own ferocious embrace. Without a second thought, Harry carried her to the bedroom he and Lily shared. He made love to her and lost himself in the sheer ecstasy of their pleasure. For the first time since Jeremy’s death, he was numb to his burden of guilt and grief.

For a long while they lay in the dark, not speaking. Then Valerie ventured to ask, “You’re not sorry?” The magnitude of what he had done so impetuously began to hit him. Still, he could not honestly say he regretted what had passed between them. Pulling Valerie close, Harry murmured words of reassurance. “No, of course not.”

At the same time, Harry knew that he must make it clear to Valerie that he did not intend to embark on a full-fledged affair. For all their current troubles, he knew he was meant to be with Lily.

“You’re very lovely, Valerie,” he began, choosing his words with care. “In every way. But you know, I’ve been married to Lily a long, long time. Tonight … I’ll always treasure this. I want you to know how much this means to me. God, this is the first relief I’ve felt in two weeks. But Valerie, it has to end here.”

This was less than what Valerie had hoped for. While she listened to Harry in what he took to be accepting silence, in her heart she began to plot how best to take advantage of Lily’s absence. She hoped Mrs. Kohle would stay away in the country a very long time. If she did, Harry would be facing a lot of lonely nights, and for all his good intentions, she had already discovered that his resistance to temptation was weak.

Harry, on the other hand, hoped that Lily would miss him and return to New York City after only a few days. He called her every day, and while they conversed pleasantly, Lily never mentioned when she might return. After a while Harry became afraid to ask.

Although Harry had put Valerie off when she’d inquired about returning to work, he came to see that
The Genesis
would prove his only source of solace. He called Valerie, whom he had not seen or spoken to since the night of her visit, and asked if she might be able to start work again the next morning.

Her voice sounded pleasingly agreeable. “I’ll be there at nine.”

If Harry was apprehensive at the thought of seeing Valerie again, his fears were allayed the minute she arrived at his door.

Her demeanor was professional yet friendly. It was as though nothing beyond amicable work on
The Genesis
had ever passed between them. Within a week, the two of them were in full swing, immersed in the creation of the novel Harry felt would be his biggest success to date. And the whole time Valerie seemed content to maintain the sense of decorum which had characterized their relationship to date. Harry was surprised and relieved to be met with such uncomplaining competence.

After three weeks of separation, Harry finally broke down. “Lily,” he said, “we can’t go on like this. I’m coming to see you this weekend.”

But Lily demurred. “No, Harry, don’t. I think that for a while we shouldn’t see each other.”

Harry was chilled by the icy determination in her voice. He knew it was no use pressing, but he felt desperate and depressed at the prospect of remaining apart indefinitely. “Lily,” he said hoarsely, “please come home. I need you. It’s important we stay together—now more than ever.”

But Lily remained firm. “There’s a lot I need to work out on my own now,” she told him.

The next day Harry threw himself into his writing with renewed intensity. Valerie sensed the vigor of his efforts. She suspected his fervor wasn’t stimulated by the material alone.

At the close of the day’s work, Harry asked if she would want to dine with him that evening. “Look, I’ve kept you so late—why don’t you stay?”

She did her best to sound casual. “Sounds great.”

Mary, the maid, had left a meal ready for Harry. There was plenty for two. Harry opened a bottle of red wine to go with it.

He found it comforting to have someone to dine with for a change. He had truly put their recent tryst out of his mind. What gave him special pleasure was the newfound companionship Valerie offered him. But by the time they sat over their cognac, Harry was just tipsy enough to begin admiring Valerie for virtues other than conversational ones. Lily suddenly came to mind—like a warning—but Harry angrily banished her from his thoughts. Where was Lily now? he asked himself. She didn’t care enough about him to come back, why should he care at all about her?

After they’d drained their snifters, it was Harry who walked to her end of the table, reached down, and gently turned her face up to his. Their first kiss was warm and sensual, but somehow tentative. Then, once again, Harry swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Accidents may happen once, but with this second incident, Harry could pretend no longer.

After that night, it was somehow understood that they would be lovers. For a time Harry had neither the will nor the desire to draw back. He didn’t call Lily for several weeks, and though he was somehow surprised when she didn’t call him, he spent his time—round the clock—with Valerie. By day, they pored over his work; by night they were in each other’s arms.

It was impossible for Harry to block Lily out of his mind. As time passed, he began to understand that he was using Valerie as a distraction from his troubles with Lily and a balm for his guilt over Jeremy’s death. Deep down, he knew it was still Lily he longed for. To continue this affair would only put off and perhaps jeopardize their eventual reconciliation. Harry also felt a pang of guilt for Valerie’s sake. He could offer her no future. Was it fair for him to lead her on? Harry resolved to end the affair for good. He would let Valerie down gently, try to make her see how this relationship wasn’t good for either of them.

Harry chose to break the news to her in a little Italian restaurant in the Village. That way he wouldn’t risk the temptation of the proximity of his own bedroom.

As they sat drinking Chianti at the candlelit table with its cheery checkered tablecloth, Valerie looked so genuinely happy he was reluctant to broach the subject of why he had brought her there. But he had taken her to this place with a purpose in mind. He was determined to carry it out.

“Valerie,” he began, “there’s something I have to say to you. I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about the two of us. I feel that perhaps the time has come to call this whole thing off.”

“Oh, Harry.” She tried to stop him from speaking further, but Harry held up his hand to silence her.

“The last thing I want is to hurt you. I care about you. There’s no denying that. But ridiculous as it sounds, I’m not prepared to sacrifice my marriage. And I’m afraid if we keep this up much longer, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Valerie was silent for a long moment. She was chagrined though not completely surprised by the news. Harry had long been devoted to his wife. But from her first day on the job, Valerie vowed to become the next Mrs. Kohle; she had fallen in love with Harry on sight and had loved him by reputation even before then. Though Harry seemed more determined now than he had been their first night together about ending the affair on the spot, Valerie felt this was nothing worse than another temporary setback. As before, it was a setback she would just wait out. There was no sense pushing Harry, no reason to turn nagging when his marriage to Lily was still so plainly on the skids. Valerie knew how little in touch the Kohles were. She was also well aware of her own native talents. Harry was not the first to fall under her spell, though he proved more recalcitrant than others she had charmed. She was by no means ready to give up. At the moment, she felt the best touch was a soft one. Follow Harry’s lead. There was no sense fighting battles; Lily would capitulate without so much as a shrug.

“Harry,” Valerie said, eyes brimming artfully with tears, “I won’t ever be the one to make you unhappy. Not ever. I’ll do whatever you say. But I’ll tell you this much, you need someone to talk to. Someone to listen. And if Lily won’t be the one to do it, then I think it might as well be me.” She looked him straight in the eye, her lip trembling fetchingly.

“Valerie, you know how much I care about Lily. I love her so. But I just can’t get through all this alone—Jeremy’s death, her blaming me, makes it even worse. You’re right—I crave another person’s company. Just the solace of a sympathetic ear.”

Valerie nodded and Harry continued, emboldened by her loving gaze. “If two people who love each other can’t draw together in times of trouble, when can they? God, I need Lily so much now….” His hoarse voice trailed off.

Valerie reached over and grasped his hand.

“Harry,” she said, “I’m here now. All I want is to be with you. I understand how you feel about Lily. But I’m prepared to offer you what she won’t. I’ll listen to you. I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll let me. You call the shots. But don’t turn me away before need be. Harry, you just can’t …” Valerie’s tears rolled down her cheeks.

Harry was overcome by her offer. How could he not be? Between Lily’s neglect, Valerie’s devotion, and the effects of the Chianti, he was a lost man.

Half-drunkenly, he shook his head. “She blames me,” he told her. “I know it. She holds me responsible for his death.”

“She should know how much you loved Jeremy. Even I know.”

Harry held her trembling hands in his. “Valerie,” he whispered. “Oh, Valerie. What did I do to deserve you?”

Valerie blushed. “I’ve been asking myself the same question with regard to you.”

In the haze brought on by the wine, in the glow of her seductive praise, Harry half forgot the reason he’d summoned her to the restaurant. He was suddenly as taken with her as he’d been on their first night. They continued as they had begun: working together by day, sleeping together at night. The whole while, Valerie plotted how to make this temporary arrangement a permanent state.

I
F LILY SEEMED OVERLY
stern in dealing with Harry, she crumbled on her own. Her grief over Jeremy’s death seemed insurmountable. Some days she felt it was a burden she wouldn’t survive.

At night the Gallaghers could hear her crying through the thin walls. The unending sobs often went on until daybreak. By the end of the month of May, they feared that Lily’s grief would never heal. For Lily’s part, try though she would, she couldn’t forgive Harry for pressuring her son. Drew’s words rang in her thoughts much as she tried to banish them.