The Last Princess (40 page)

Lily remained evasive. “Oh, yes and no. The crowds were terrific, and it was fun to see Harry being such a star, but there wasn’t much for me to do and, frankly, I began to feel a little as if I were in the way.”

He nodded. “Well, I think perhaps you’re wise to let him have his day. Meanwhile, what do you have in mind for yourself?”

“I was hoping that you might have some suggestions.”

“Actually, I do. I thought of you the minute I heard about this the other day. The Manhattan Historical Landmarks Society has an annual auction of art and antiques and they need someone dynamic to organize it. Would you be interested?”

Knowing that the Landmarks Society was one of Ellis’s particular pet projects—he detested modern art and architecture almost as much as she did—Lily was flattered by his offer.

But still, she demurred. “Of course I’m interested, but I don’t know if I’m really capable of anything that demanding.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “What do you mean, capable? What has happened to your self-confidence? You’d be fabulous, just as you were with the Spring Ball.”

What
had
happened to her confidence? Was its loss simply the result of weeks of feeling like a nonentity on the fringe of her husband’s fame?

“Look, Lily,” Ellis said, seeing her hesitate. “I wouldn’t ever propose something that you weren’t comfortable with and that wasn’t well within your capabilities.”

She smiled wryly. “I know that, Ellis. It’s just that I think you have a much higher opinion of me than I deserve.”

“That’s impossible,” he returned lightly.

He always made her feel wonderful. And eventually she found herself acquiescing.

Lily found checking and cataloguing the furniture and art donated for the auction unexpectedly fascinating, and she gradually became caught up in it.

When she talked to Harry, however, she didn’t dwell on the details. Instead, she turned the conversation around to him. Were the crowds as boisterous as ever? How had the radio program gone?

The tour was going well, it seemed. The show had been a huge success. There was to be a big interview in the
Chicago Tribune.
Oh, and they had added a swing through Texas. He wasn’t going to be able to fly home for some time.

Lily couldn’t get over how stilted their conversations had become. What had happened to the intimacy which had developed since their reconciliation? Harry never seemed to say “I love you” anymore, or any of the other little things she longed to hear. When she ventured, “I miss you, darling. I can hardly wait until you come back,” his response was simply, “I’m afraid it will be a while yet.”

Lily hung up feeling unhappy and frustrated. But all she could do was try to fill up her time while she waited. Little did she know then that it would be almost five weeks before Harry finally returned.

At the airport, she instantly detected the new air about him. He was every inch the media swell. The glittering soirees, the jammed lecture halls, the radio and newspaper interviews, the fawning praise from provincial critics had all left their mark. Lily could feel his ego pulsing even before he spoke.

“Hello, Lily. I’ve missed you,” he said. He kissed her briefly.

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” she said, putting her arms around him. “It seems like forever that you’ve been gone.”

The scene was flat. It was as though they were dutifully repeating the lines expected of them.

“Did you have a good flight?”

“Oh, it was so-so.”

Just then Roy Flatt and Kate Hathaway joined them.

“Hi, Lily, how have you been?” Roy greeted her genially.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t realize you were all on the same flight … but of course, you would be.”

“Can we give you a lift?” Harry asked. “Lily has the car.”

Lily drove in silence as the rest of them talked shop. Apparently the last reading had been a comedy of errors. The microphone didn’t work, the fire alarm had gone off as Harry began to speak. Lily felt utterly left out of their intimate trio.

Harry helped them with their luggage when they were each dropped off at their apartments.

“Sounds as though you had a good time,” she said dryly when they were finally alone in the car.

“Oh, not bad,” he returned casually.

“It’s nice to have you back.”

He stretched and yawned. “It will be good to be home. I need a rest.”

And that was all. No protestations of love, no impassioned embraces. That night, Lily had planned a gourmet meal to celebrate his homecoming, but Ellis dropped by for a drink in the late afternoon, and as the dinner hour approached, Harry asked, “We’d love to have you for dinner—can you stay?” There was nothing Lily could do but second the invitation, and Ellis promptly accepted, saying only, “Of course, I don’t want to intrude on your first night back….”

“Oh, no, no,” returned Harry heartily. “No problem. There are quite a few things I need to talk to you about.”

The dinner conversation revolved around
The Genesis
and the pending question of movie rights. The elegant meal—fresh Maine lobster, imported
petits pois,
and beautiful
croquembouche
—was disposed of without ceremony while the men debated the issue.

Finally, after Mary had poured the coffee, Ellis settled back in his chair and said, “Lily, we’ve certainly neglected you thus far this evening. Harry, has she told you much about this big auction she has been whipping into shape?”

“Oh, yes. It’s for the—the—”

“Historical Landmarks Society,” Lily sullenly prompted him.

“That’s right—of course. Well, it should be interesting. What is it that they do again?”

“They work for the preservation of our architectural and cultural heritage,” Ellis said, adding humorously, “Something a Philistine like you wouldn’t understand.”

“Sure, I understand it,” Harry said jokingly. “Seems to me that my father got a nice tax break last year when the Kohle Mercantile Bank building was reclassified as a landmark. I guess that this society isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

They all laughed, but Ellis glanced swiftly at Lily, fearing that Harry’s indifference had hurt her. But as always, she remained smiling and gracious under his gaze. “Shall we have a little more champagne? This is a celebration, you know.”

“I’d love it,” Ellis replied. “But after that, I’m going to leave the two of you to yourselves.”

“No need,” said Harry, yawning. “You know, all of a sudden I’m so tired I’m ready to drop. It must be the long flight catching up with me. If you’ll both excuse me….”

There was an awkward silence after he departed in the direction of the bedroom. That his mind was not on a romantic reunion was painfully obvious.

What had happened to the attentiveness, the loving attitude Harry had displayed toward Lily at Christmastime? Ellis wondered. He seemed a changed man.

Lily tried bravely to summon up a smile. “He’s tired….”

“Well, now your life will settle back to normal a little bit.”

But this time his words proved not to be prophetic.

Early the next morning, Harry got a phone call from Renaud’s. Apparently, an extemporaneous lecture he had given after a reading at the University of Oklahoma had been such a resounding success that Kate and Roy had proposed a lengthy lecture tour of colleges and universities.

“Are you going to do it, Harry?” Lily asked, her heart sinking.

“I think so,” he said decidedly. “They seem very anxious to have me, and I enjoy the prospect of dealing with students.”

“Oh,” Lily answered flatly. Not one word about missing her, or being sorry to leave here again. Two days later he was gone, and Lily threw herself back into her auction committee. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand what was wrong. It was as if Harry were angry with her, though he showed no sign of irritation. He was calm, cool—and indifferent.

W
EEKS PASSED, AND THE
auction came and went. It was a complete success, but Lily accepted the congratulations wearily. When Ellis proposed another committee for her, she told him, “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t think I have the energy left for anything else right now.”

As time passed, Ellis became more concerned. Lily seemed strangely listless. She lacked her usual sparkle. “Are you feeling well, Lily?” he asked her one evening.

She shrugged. “Oh, I’m healthy enough.”

“Well, you look as though you could use a night out. How about dinner? Anywhere you’d like.”

“Thank you, Ellis, but I think I’ll just go home and try to get a good night’s sleep.”

Tonight more than ever, the silent phone mocked her, and when she finally turned the light out, she lay staring into the darkness.

In the morning, having slept only two or three hours, she dragged herself out of bed, slipped on her bathrobe, and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

Mary was there, putting away the morning’s marketing. “My, my,” she said, greeting her employer, “you look tired this morning. Here, have some coffee and one of these cinnamon rolls.”

“I am a little tired, Mary—but I think I’ll just have coffee right now.”

She took her cup out to the terrace, letting the pale sunshine bathe her face. Sitting there sipping her coffee, she felt like an old lady at a sanatorium, wheeled out into the garden by the attendant for some fresh air.

Wearily, she went into her mirrored dressing room, intending to change. Instead, she pushed back the shutters, flooding the room with harsh daylight, and allowed her robe to slip onto the floor. Rarely did she spend a lot of time looking at herself in the mirror. Most of the time her toilette consisted of pulling on a dress or suit, brushing her hair, and perhaps dabbing on a little lipstick.

She was far from being a vain woman; in fact, the memory of her childhood, when she had heard her red hair so constantly disparaged, had left her with an inferiority complex about her looks.

Still, from the time in Paris when she had become an overnight social success, she had grown accustomed to thinking of herself as at least reasonably attractive. But now, looking at herself in the mirror, she thought: I’m past forty now, middle-aged.

Her auburn hair still showed no signs of graying, but it hung loosely about her shoulders in no particular style. She had never regained the weight she had lost after Jeremy’s death and her face looked drawn and tired, her complexion dull. The tiny crow’s-feet around her eyes suddenly looked like cavernous furrows, especially today. No wonder Harry was no longer interested in her. She was aging, plain, a hausfrau. She was, worst of all, ordinary. And, God only knew, her husband was no ordinary man. He was still virile and handsome, his few lines and the silver at his temples only serving to enhance his appeal.

In truth, she was fighting not another woman, but a much greater adversary: celebrity. It was a seduction in itself, beyond mere looks and wealth. She couldn’t dazzle the way the glowing, glittering sphere of fame could, and now she didn’t even have beauty to offer Harry.

In her despair, Lily had lost all perspective. She’d convinced herself that her looks were the source of the problem. Somehow it suddenly seemed that nothing else mattered except regaining her lost beauty.

But the solution came to her with unexpected swiftness, even though she had never thought of it before: Switzerland. Even in her convent-school youth, women had come to the spas for rejuvenation, and now there were the world’s best plastic surgeons.

She would have a face-lift, and then recuperate at one of the famous spas. Perhaps even put on a little weight. Then she would go to Paris and get herself a smashing new wardrobe. Harry was always telling her to spend money. Well, for once she would. The whole thing would take no more than a month and she could even be back before Harry returned from his lecture circuit.

When she called him that evening she told him, “Darling, since you’re away, I’ve decided to take a little vacation in Europe. I’ve been feeling a bit run-down, and I want to have a little rest in Switzerland, maybe get in touch with my old friend Colette in Paris. Just a few weeks—I’ll be back before you finish your tour.”

“Fine, Lily,” he said flatly. “I think you should. Sounds wonderful.”

When he hung up, he gave a short, cynical laugh. She couldn’t be bothered to travel with him, claiming that she felt superfluous, but now she was going off to Europe to see a girlfriend. That said it all, as far as he was concerned. Lily had her own life and was best off living it—without him.

A week later, Lily was operated on by the most eminent plastic surgeon at the Clinique Lassalle in Geneva. She had vaguely thought that the procedure entailed little more discomfort than a trip to the beauty salon, but soon she realized how naive she had been. For two weeks afterward, as she sat in her room and looked out through the pale, clear air at the Alps, her face was swathed in bandages. The pain was excruciating.

Even worse was the mental torture of knowing that she might have made a great mistake. There would be no improvement. Indeed, she would be lucky if she weren’t horribly scarred and unnatural-looking. Harry would hate it….

But after the bandages were removed and the swelling and bruising receded, she was the Lily of old once again. As soon as she realized that the operation had been a success, she found herself enjoying being in Switzerland again. She walked in Alpine meadows, sailed across Lake Geneva, ate
glacés
in tiny cafés, and was carried back to the long-ago days of boarding school.

How unhappy she had been as a child, how utterly friendless. A shadow of that unhappiness had always hovered over her. She had never really stopped being that miserable, lonely little girl who knew herself to be unloved.

Whether she realized it or not, this sense of being unloved was the root of why she had come here for this operation. Harry’s strange aloofness had conjured up all the old feelings of low self-worth.

As the days passed, the clear air and mineral baths and exercise brought fresh color to her complexion, sparkle to her eyes, and a spring to her step. By the time she left, she felt like a new woman.