The Last Princess

by Cynthia Freeman

  “Harry!” she breathed, raising her eyes to meet his. “I can’t believe it!”

  Finally, he found his voice. “I can’t either! A Pulitzer Prize!” Leaping up, he gave her a fierce hug. It was the first thaw in his coldness. Yet somehow it didn’t feel like a shared triumph, for however much he’d credited her on the road. Just as quickly, he let go of her. “My God, what a coup! I’ve got to call Ellis.”

  It was impossible for her not to be both awed and moved as she sat at the presentation ceremony and heard the speaker address the vast crowd in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria talking about the establishment of the prize and the fact that it recognized and rewarded the highest achievements of humanity. Her husband had achieved much: He had written a work that would last forever, a work of significance beyond its time.

  She was brimming with pride. For all their recent trouble, for all the struggle and Harry’s relentless drive, this recognition made it all endurable. Lily just had to admire Harry, looking as distinguished as he did in his black suit.

  Afterward, as the crush of friends and well-wishers surrounded them, it was almost impossible to move. The most glamorous of all the Pulitzer recipients, Harry received the lion’s share of media attention. Fighting their way through the crowd, the group from Renaud’s reached him.

  Clapping him on the back, Joe Constantine, his editor, exclaimed, “Harry, you old son of a gun, you knocked ’em dead!”

  “Wonderful speech, Harry! I hope you have a copy of it,” Roy Flatt said.

  “Thanks, everyone,” Harry said, thoroughly exhilarated.

  Lily found herself watching with a strange sense of detachment as the mob edged her off to the side. Harry gave off an aura of excitement which was almost palpable. Everyone wanted to reach out and touch him in some way, as if his magic would somehow brush off on them.

  And then, with sudden clarity, she saw Kate Hathaway standing next to Harry. She was saying nothing, only gently smiling at him—but suddenly Lily knew. She knew, with dead certainty, that Kate and Harry were having an affair. Before tonight, she had never paid any particular attention to the woman. If anything, she had a vague idea that Kate and Roy were an item. But now she looked at Kate with fresh eyes.

  There was no denying it, Kate was beautiful. She had wheat-blond hair, fair skin, and clear blue eyes. She was as slender as a reed. There was nothing suggestive about her appearance per se, and she made no gesture, spoke no word that was at all intimate or personal, but by some mysterious channel, Lily sensed the vital connection between her and Harry.

  She had an urge to seize Kate and scream, right at the gala, but Lily Goodhue was not one for public scenes.

  Lily swallowed hard and tried to keep from trembling as she stared first at Kate, then at Harry. It was simply too much to bear. She turned away with a quiet moan and literally ran into Ellis.

  “Hello, Lily!” he greeted her. “I’ve been trying to get to you for ten minutes. The ceremony went beautifully, don’t you think?”

  She stared at him with wide, pain-filled eyes.

  “What is it, my dear?” he asked more quietly. “Is all this too much for you?”

  Blindly, she shook her head. “Yes … no … I don’t know.”

  Ellis looked past her to Harry with Kate Hathaway next to him. Keenly sensitive, he picked up what was on Lily’s mind.

  He was about to say something but just then someone called, “Would the recipients and their spouses please gather up here for a few pictures.” Lily closed her eyes for a long moment. Ellis feared she might faint. Then she took a deep breath and turned back to the stage.

  The photo session seemed endless. Lily kept a smile frozen on her face while Harry could have been a stone statue next to her; she steeled herself against his touch.

  Then, just as she felt she could bear the pose no longer, the media people finally said, “That’s all. Thank you very much.

  By now, the crowd had thinned out considerably, and the only ones left standing near Lily and Harry were Ellis, Roy, Kate, and Joe Constantine.

  “How about going out for a drink?” Joe asked. “A little Dom Pérignon—on Renaud’s?”

  “Great,” Harry said enthusiastically.

  Lily felt as though she were living through a nightmare. Harry and Kate were so nonchalant, so offhand with each other, yet Lily was sure. And clearly neither one had any idea that she had fathomed their secret.

  For as calm as Lily appeared, she knew that if she had to sit at the same table with them, pretending to celebrate, her self-control would disintegrate. Already it had been strained too far. As quietly as she could manage, she said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. I have a bit of a headache.”

  Everyone fell silent. Harry was obviously torn. He wanted to go out and celebrate. But at the same time, how could he simply put Lily in a cab and send her home?

  Slowly, he said, “Well, perhaps we had better all take a rain check. I know it’s early, but it has been a long evening for Lily.”

  The others nodded, the party atmosphere fading perceptibly as they turned toward the exit.

  “I’ll stop by the office tomorrow,” Harry called after the group from Renaud’s. “We’ll have to see how all this comes out in the press.”

  “See you tomorrow, Harry,” Ellis said quietly, giving him a long, level gaze before turning away.

  Lily and Harry rode home in absolute silence. Lily could barely speak; Harry seemed absorbed by his own thoughts.

  When they reached home, Harry headed for the bar. More than a little annoyed with her, he poured himself a drink. Walking into the library without ceremony, she picked up the Scotch decanter. “I’ll take this, thank you.”

  Without another word, she walked out of the room and down the hall to her dressing room, shutting the door behind her. She threw her new Lanvin on the floor and kicked her shoes into a corner as she headed toward the bathroom and began running a hot tub. She scrubbed her face clean of makeup, then lowered herself slowly into the fragrant bubbles, setting the decanter on the ledge next to the bathroom glass.

  Lily stayed there a long time, draining several glasses and staring off into space. Much later, when she finally emerged, she slipped on a delicate-pink chiffon dress and high-heeled shoes. She felt cleansed, as if she had shed all the false poses she had assumed in hopes of pleasing Harry. Bolstered by that thought, she felt a bud of self-respect. Now she realized that she could not live with herself until she told Harry just exactly what she knew—and what she thought of him.

  After a perfunctory knock, she entered Harry’s study and confronted him. “Harry, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want the truth. A simple yes or no: Are you having an affair with Kate Hathaway?”

  For a long moment, he sat stunned. So that was it—she knew. But how? He would have sworn that everything was normal when they set out for the awards ceremony. How could she have found out? Kate would never, by word or gesture, reveal a thing. She had far too much presence, and too much skill in handling people. He couldn’t imagine how Lily had discovered the truth, but now that she knew, he felt a queer sense of relief.

  Wearily, he said, “What do you want me to say, Lily?”

  No attempt at denial? Lily’s heart sank. “Are you in love with her?” she asked curtly.

  Harry hated having to look Lily in the face as he answered. Once, not so very long ago, he would have sworn that he would never fall in love with another woman, that Lily was the only one who would ever touch his heart. Yet it seemed as if a curtain had fallen on the stage, as if suddenly their scene together was played out. After all the ups and downs and travails of some twenty years, their love had simply worn itself out.

  He had so recently thought his marriage was invincible, but already he knew it was not.

  And then there was Kate, bright and clever. With her, there were no recriminations, no memories of old quarrels and past problems. He could be joyous and exuberant again, and suddenly the shared years with L
ily didn’t seem to count for anything.

  Yes, he was in love with Kate now, and not with Lily, but it was hard to summon up the courage to say it aloud. For how little he loved her, he still couldn’t bear to see her hurt.

  “That’s a complicated question.”

  “It’s not complicated at all, dammit! Yes or no—are you in love with her?”

  Softly he said, “Yes. But—”

  Not waiting to hear the rest, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face, crying, “God damn you, Harry! When I found out about Valerie Kirk, you swore to me that it was all a mistake and promised that it would never happen again! And I forgave you! Now you tell me that there is yet another woman!”

  Lily was wild with hurt and rage. “I stuck with you through thick and thin … and this is how you repay me? Harry, I never want to see you again. I want you out of this apartment—tonight! Do you hear me? I can’t bear to be under the same roof with you!”

  Turning, she started to leave, but Harry leapt to block her.

  “Get out of my way, Harry!” she screamed.

  “Wait a minute, Lily! Please listen—”

  But Lily ran down the hall. She paused only to grab a wrap from the hall closet, then slammed the front door in his face.

  She hit the elevator button three times, fighting vainly for self-control. Sobbing, she stumbled toward the stairs. She did not want to face the curious eyes of the doorman, so she let herself out the back door. She fled unsteadily through the dimly lit alley full of garbage cans, her vision blurred by tears.

  How could Harry have betrayed her so? And after she had so quickly forgiven him for his affair with Valerie? Most important of all, why had his love for her evaporated?

  This was as bad as having caught Harry in bed with Valerie in the villa at Safed. No, this was worse. What a fool she had been to take him back. Bitterness overcame her at the thought of her naiveté. She had been an idiot, a trusting simpleton.

  Lily felt so overwhelmed by misery, she sank onto a doorstep, buried her face in her hands, and wept. She had been cursed from the day of her birth. Never in her life had she had a true, enduring, sustaining love. Not from her parents, not from Harry, not from her children.

  Her parents had detested her, she’d always known that. Harry was the first human being to love her wholly and unconditionally. That was why she had never begrudged her lost inheritance, the hard work, or the poverty of their early years. To her, the struggles were nothing compared with what he had given her.

  When success came, their life together had seemed to come apart, yet as recently as last fall it had seemed that they were going to make it. Their love was stronger than ever before. But apparently it had been merely the last flicker of a dying fire.

  “Anything I can do for you, lady?” said a kindly though peremptory voice.

  Seeing the blue of a policeman’s uniform, she quickly brushed away her tears with the back of her hand and shook her head.

  “In that case, you have better not sit here. It’s not safe, this time of night.”

  Mutely, she nodded, then rose uncertainly to her feet.

  She had no idea how many blocks she had come or where she was; she had stumbled aimlessly through the streets, oblivious to her surroundings.

  All at once, she recognized the familiar façade of Ellis’s building. Without consciously meaning to, she had walked almost directly there. Clad in a dressing gown, he answered the bell. When he saw her ravaged face, he registered pure shock.

  Ellis collected himself quickly and drew her inside, asking, “What is it? What on earth is wrong, Lily?”

  “I’ve left Harry.”

  “Why?”

  He drew her into his library, poured her a brandy, settled her into the loveseat near the fire. “What happened?”

  “Harry told me tonight that he is in love with Kate Hathaway. He’s been having an affair with her; I imagine it’s no news to you.”

  He made no comment, and she continued almost incoherently.

  “I tried everything, Ellis. I really did. I supported him and encouraged him all these years—and believe me, sometimes it was as hard for me as it was for him—and Harry took it all for granted. But what hurts me most is that I thought that this past year was the best of our lives. It seemed as if we had worked it all out, that we’d conquered all our problems. Obviously I was wrong. Harry doesn’t love me. Maybe he never did.”

  “Lily, that’s ridiculous!”

  “No, I don’t think so. If Harry loved me, he wouldn’t have treated me like this. He couldn’t have.”

  Ellis had never seen her look so unhappy. “I even went to Switzerland for a face-lift to please him. But I could have saved myself the pain. He was already sleeping with Kate Hathaway.”

  “Maybe it’s just a passing fling, Lily.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want him under those conditions, Ellis. I don’t want a man who is capable of being unfaithful to me. And besides, he admitted that he is in love with her.”

  What torture it must be for her to say those words, Ellis thought.

  “My marriage meant everything to me. It was my life. And now I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care about anything. I know that sounds melodramatic, but I just don’t feel as if I’ve got anything to live for.”

  “Don’t say that, Lily. You’ve got someone very important to live for!”

  “Who?”

  “Yourself, dammit! If only you could see what a magnificent human being you are, Lily. You’re worth ten of Harry Kohle—a hundred!”

  She shrugged, obviously unconvinced. “Harry apparently does not think so. Or is it just that all men grow tired of their wives?”

  Pausing for a long moment, she asked suddenly, “Do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question? When you were married, were you completely faithful to your wife?”

  Reluctantly he admitted, “Well, as a matter of fact, I was.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I guess that for me it had something to do with those vows.”

  They fell silent.

  Then, abruptly, Ellis stood up. “Lily, did you eat at all at the dinner? Let me fix you something.”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry. But if you have some, I’d love a glass of champagne.”

  He disappeared and returned a moment later with a bottle and two crystal champagne glasses. As he filled a glass and handed it to Lily, he asked, “Now, what are we going to drink to? This doesn’t quite seem like an occasion to celebrate.”

  “On the contrary,” she said evenly. “If you say that I’m worth something on my own, that I have to go on living, I guess we can toast my new life—without Harry.”

  With stern deliberation, she clinked her glass against Ellis’s.

  “Here’s to you, Lily. Still the last princess in town.”

  “Thank you, Ellis. You’re the best friend I have in the world.”

  Lily found relief in the sudden lightheadedness brought on by the champagne. Ellis’s solicitude made her feel cozy and snug. As Ellis drained the last of the bottle, barely filling Lily’s glass, she cried petulantly, “Oh, don’t we have more?”

  “Of course.”

  Barely halfway through the second bottle, Lily set down her glass with a snap and tried to stand. She lurched unsteadily. Ellis sprang to his feet and caught her. Lily looked up at him and blinked to put him in focus. Huskily, she whispered, “Make love to me, Ellis.”

  This was the moment Ellis had dared to dream of. His gaze slid down her ivory throat to the seductive curves of her body. Her lips were so close to his, so tempting. Ellis looked in her emerald eyes. They were still beautiful, though clearly fogged by alcohol.

  Ellis abruptly regained his self-control. He longed for Lily, but this was not the way he would have her.

  Gently, he disengaged himself from her embrace. “I don’t think it would be a good idea, Lily.”

  “Because of Harry? He’s not worth
your scruples.”

  “It has nothing to do with him. It has to do with you and me.”

  “So you don’t find me desirable, either.”

  “That’s not it, Lily! But I don’t want to sleep with you for revenge.”

  “But Ellis, that’s not the reason. I love you.”

  Almost angrily, he turned on her. “Lily, we’re not children. Why should we pretend? I have always loved you, can you not have known? There is nothing I want more than to hear you say those words to me. But when you say it tonight, I know that you don’t mean what I want—that you’re in love with me. I long to take you to bed, God knows! But not like this.”

  It was as if the words were torn from him. Lily stared at him. “Ellis … I never thought … you never told me….”

  “I never told you because you were married to Harry. What purpose would it have served?”

  “But you didn’t tell me about Valerie or Kate, even though you knew.”

  “I’m not as noble as you believe, Lily. Think back. I deliberately encouraged you to go to Israel, knowing that you would probably find out about Valerie. And you did, but after you forgave Harry for that, I figured you loved him so much that you would forgive him anything.”

  This was too great a revelation to take in all at once. Reeling from the shock as well as the champagne, Lily cried, “Ellis, you don’t understand! I want you because I love you…. I do…. I really do….”

  Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She felt woozy. Suddenly she felt him lift her and carry her across the threshold into his bedroom, just before everything went black.

  Chapter 42

  THE NEXT MORNING, LILY woke up in Ellis’s four-poster. For a moment she couldn’t recall where she was. She sat up and felt the first stab of a piercing headache. She knew then she must have drunk far more than she realized the previous night.

  Gradually, memory of those hours came back to her. Ellis and she? What had she said to him? And what had they done? She glanced at the other side of the bed. The sheet and spread were still smooth and neatly arranged. The pillow was undented. She’d spent the night alone. With a sense of wonder, she remembered Ellis’s words: He loved her.