The Proud and the Prejudiced: A Modern Twist on Pride and Prejudice

by Colette Saucier

  After an excruciatingly light pass over her nipple, his hand continued its journey and touched her over the thin silk between her legs, rippling shockwaves out like from the epicenter of an earthquake. He worked his fingers under the waistband, and she trembled as he fondled her feminine flesh and whimpered into his mouth as he rhythmically touched her inside and out. Tension coiled in her womb until he stopped and pulled his mouth and hand away from her. His breathing heavy, he gazed at her as he eased her back against the mattress and held himself over her. Working his way down her body, he kissed her forehead, the hollow of her throat, and between her breasts. He placed a kiss on her navel and then just above the lace waistband before inching the silk and lace over her hips and down her legs, exposing her shadowed form to him completely. He rolled off the bed and stood devouring her with his eyes in the dimly lit room as he unbuckled his belt and removed his slacks.

  He climbed back into bed and took her face in his hands, allowing no escape as he joined their lips and teeth and tongues in another deep embrace. When he ended the kiss, he lifted his head and traced her features with his eyes as he caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

  “I think you are in love with me, Alice. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

  Without waiting for a reply or admission, he brought his lips to hers in gentle, lingering kisses. He maneuvered between her legs, kissed her once more, then held her eyes with his as he pushed inside of her. She gasped and her eyes closed with the welcome intrusion. He didn’t move at first; he held steady there, being one with her, still watching her when her eyes opened, and nothing had ever felt so perfect, so complete. In that moment, she knew he was right. She was in love with him. Desperately. Madly. Violently.

  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 ma
dwoman 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.

  *****

  The Edge of Darkness

  Chapter 20

  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!