“I understand how you feel; I really do. And I’ll gladly speak to your mother. However, I can’t promise I’ll be successful. She’s my daughter, don’t forget, and I know her better than anyone. Once she’s made up her mind about something, she rarely, if ever, changes it.”
Chloe sighed. “If she’ll tell anyone, it’ll be you, Gran.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Blair responded carefully, shaking her beautifully coiffed blond head. “She’s kept him a secret since before you were born, so why should she divulge anything now? Not even André Birron knows about your father, and if she’d been going to confide in anyone, it would have been André. They’ve always been very close.”
“You’ve discussed this with Uncle André?”
“A long time ago, yes.”
“And he had no clue?”
“No, he didn’t, and he actually told me to leave it alone. He told me my prying would do no good, only antagonize Stevie, possibly even cause an estrangement if I wasn’t careful, if I persisted. Since I didn’t want that to happen, I took André’s advice.”
Derek said, “I feel for you, Chloe, and I know your grandmother does too. It’s only natural for you to want to know a little more about your father. If your grandmother is in agreement with me on this, I’ll speak to your mother this weekend. But you must leave it to me, Chloe; you mustn’t pester me. I’ll do it when the right opportunity presents itself.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, Gramps!” Chloe cried, and jumped up, ran across the room, hugged him tightly.
Derek held her close to him, loving her. She was so young, so vulnerable. He met Blair’s eyes across the room, smiled faintly, and raised a brow. He had recognized the look on his wife’s face instantly. It mirrored what he himself was thinking: Stevie would tell him nothing.
Later that afternoon, Derek put down the script he had been reading and, looking over at his wife, he said, “Do you think all families are like ours?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dysfunctional.”
“How can you say that, Derek! We’re not dysfunctional!”
“We’re trotting along in that direction.”
“I don’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“Believe it, darling.” Derek laughed hollowly. “There’s nothing new about dysfunctional families. They’ve been around since the Stone Age.” He glanced at the script on the ottoman next to his chair. “Take the Plantagenets, for example.”
Blair simply gaped at him.
Derek grinned, amused by her expression of mingled disbelief and denial. “Seriously, Blair, look at Henry Plantagenet and Eleanor of Aquitaine, their three sons, Richard, Geoffrey, and John, and Alais Capet, their French ward who was also Henry’s mistress. Now, that was a dysfunctional family if ever there was one. Things haven’t changed much since 1183, when Henry II was king of England and half of France.”
“Are you going to do the revival of The Lion in Winter?” Blair asked, her eyes swinging to the script he had been reading.
“I might. It’s an awfully good play and it hasn’t been seen on Broadway since 1966. The dialogue is fabulous. And James Goldman really got it right, had Henry and Eleanor down pat. There’s such wit, comedy, and drama in it. A lot to get my teeth in here.”
“But will a revival work? Don’t you think people remember the movie with Katharine Hepburn and Peter O’Toole?”
“I sincerely hope they do, and with pleasure, so that they’ll want to see it again. As a play.” Derek paused for a moment, and then added quietly, “But leaving the year 1183 behind, and getting back to 1996, and our dysfunctional family rather than the royal Plantagenets, what are we going to do about Chloe?”
“You’re going to talk to Stevie.”
“If you think I should.”
“I do,” Blair murmured. “She’ll accept that kind of discussion from you more than she would from me, Derek. She’d just be very dismissive if I mentioned any of this to her. Anyway, she’s always listened to you, paid attention to your words.”
“She’s awfully angry.”
“Chloe?”
“Who else?” Derek replied, shifting slightly in the chair. “And I can understand why. Stevie should have told her all about John Lane years ago. God knows, she told the girl she was illegitimate.”
Blair shook her head sadly. “Stevie had to tell her that, once she was old enough to understand. After all, there was no man around, and Stevie was a widow.”
“Why all the secrecy about this John Lane?” Derek asked.
“Years ago you said that wasn’t his real name. Have you changed your mind? Are you now saying that it is the man’s name?”
“No, I’m not, Blair. I’ve always thought it was phony, that Stevie invented it for convenience sake.”
“In order to protect someone’s identity?” Blair said softly.
Derek nodded.
“But who?” she asked, her voice full of puzzlement.
Derek raised a brow eloquently. “Who indeed? I’ve often thought it might be somebody we know. I’ve said that to you in the past, but you always pooh-poohed the idea, told me I was on the wrong track.”
“I don’t believe that. Not anymore, Derek. It could easily have been one of our friends, or someone she met through us. If you look back, really think about it, we were the only diversion she had in those days, working the way she did and stuck with the boys. Any social life Stevie had was with us. Perhaps she got involved with one of your actor chums. And it would have had to have been somebody famous. Otherwise, why bother to protect him?”
“Correct,” Derek said, and rose. He walked across the room and stood looking out of the window for a few moments.
Blair’s eyes followed him, rested on him, and admiringly so. To her he was the most extraordinary man she had ever known. Great actor, glamorous star, a man whose singular talent had won him accolades around the world.
And yet to her, perhaps the most amazing thing about him was his beginning. She had always found it incredible that at a very early age he had plucked himself up out of the Rhondda Valley and flung himself into the center of London’s theatrical world, making a name for himself very quickly when he was so young, only nineteen.
What was even more astounding was that with only a ridiculously meager amount of training he had turned himself into a great classical actor, literally by an act of will. His first rendition of Hamlet in the West End was still talked about with awe.
Aside from his spectacular talent, Derek was a lovely man, very down to earth and real; he had humility, was honorable, and honest, not to mention a kind and loving human being. And he truly had an understanding heart. All were characteristics she valued, and she was certain she would have been hard-pressed to find them all in anyone else.
Derek had loved her, and loved her well, for all those years, and she had loved him in return. They had been a good team, were still a good team. Looking back, she realized how much his astonishingly beautiful voice had cast a spell over her when she met him all those years ago. It still thrilled her, and when she sat listening to him in a theater, she was spellbound. Naturally, she had also fallen for his dark good looks, as most women did, had found herself mesmerized by those expressive, liquid eyes of a blue so light they were almost transparent.
He’s sixty-eight but he doesn’t look it. He’s still straight as a ramrod, broad of chest, tall, and unbowed. And yet he seems tired today, Blair thought. His face was relatively unlined and youthful, except for tiny, finely etched lines around his eyes, but there were white wings at his temples now.
Suddenly Blair hoped he would not do the play. He was exhausted from his long Broadway run in Becket and the movie he had just finished in Arizona. She had hoped he would take a well-earned rest once they returned to London, but perhaps this wasn’t possible for him.
Did he really want to play Henry II? Strut around a stage as that roaring Plantagenet king of England whom he had just portrayed
in Becket? Probably. Henry II seemed to hold some sort of fascination for him, and anyway, Derek could be a glutton for punishment.
Derek interrupted his wife’s thoughts when he swung away from the window and said, “She’s eighteen, and naturally she is fascinated by her father…who he was, what he was like as a man. She wants to know all about him in order to know herself, understand herself better. However, Blair, I’m afraid Chloe has other problems, quite aside from the true identity of Papa.”
“She does?”
“She did rather a lot of confiding on our little walk after lunch today.”
“Apparently. What other bricks did she drop on you?”
Derek sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Chloe doesn’t want to go to college.”
“Now, that does surprise me!” Blair exclaimed. “In fact, it almost takes my breath away. Chloe has been so enthusiastic about going to Oxford, and for as long as I care to remember. In fact, she got me to drive her there last summer, then dragged me around the university and the city, if you recall. And she was excited about the whole idea of it. Look here, although she says she doesn’t want to go to college now, she could easily change her mind later. The young only realize how tough it is when they get out there on their own.”
“I hope Chloe will change her mind, but I have my doubts,” Derek murmured, sounding regretful. “It’s sad really that she intends to forgo Oxford. Those would be wonderful years for her, years she’d draw on and remember for the rest of her life. And it’s upsetting for Stevie, who has wanted her to go there so badly.”
“She’s told her mother?”
“Yes. She’s also informed Stevie that she wants to work at Jardine’s.”
Startled to hear this, Blair was silent for a moment. Then she said quickly, “Not my choice for her. On the other hand, perhaps it will please Stevie.”
“Jardine’s of London.”
“Oh, dear. And I suppose she’s announced that to her mother?” Blair looked at him questioningly.
“Yes, she did. When do the young ever hold anything back? They love to let it all hang out.”
“No wonder you’re talking dysfunctional.”
“There’s more, my darling.”
“No, Derek, don’t say that. What else could possibly be troubling Chloe?” Blair’s face filled with sudden apprehension.
“Oh, it’s not Chloe I’m speaking about, but Miles.”
“Miles is the sanest of us all.”
“Very true. However, he’s worried about Gideon. He thinks his twin has problems. Miles described him to me as being gloomy and depressed. He asked me how we thought Gideon seemed when we saw him in Los Angeles.”
“Self-involved,” Blair shot back.
Derek threw her a rapid glance and continued. “I told Miles that I thought Gideon appeared to be preoccupied. With business.”
“Self-involved,” Blair repeated in a knowing, confident voice.
Derek said, “There’s more.”
“Do tell. Get it over with, Derek.” She sat back, waiting.
“Miles says that his mother believes Nigel is plotting against her, and that he wants to oust her from the company.”
“Whatever will she think of next?”
Derek frowned. “Don’t you believe it’s true?”
“All joking apart, I’m afraid I do. I trust Stevie’s judgment absolutely. I’ve never known it to be flawed. Apparently Nigel’s is though.” Blair’s face grew thoughtful, and she sat staring into space for a second or two before continuing. “If Stevie says Nigel is working against her, then undoubtedly he is. And no wonder you bring up the Plantagenets. Shades of that bloodied family indeed, what with their plotting and double-dealing, secrets and scheming…their constant quarreling and hidden agendas.”
He laughed. “Are we as bad as that, do you think?”
Blair leaned against the needlepoint cushions on the sofa and stared at him without making a comment. Suddenly she said, “Aren’t all families?”
“I’m not sure. It depends on what’s at stake. Let me ask you something else, Blair. Why would Nigel plot against his own mother? Especially when he will be taking over the company from her one day anyway.”
“That’s what is so baffling, Derek.” Blair lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I haven’t got a clue. But Nigel has always been devious, that we both know.” She threw him a pointed look. “Even as a child, remember? Anyway, darling, what are we going to do?”
“Do what all families do…work it out the best way we can, I suppose.” Derek moved closer to the fire and sat down in the chair he had vacated a moment before. He picked up the script of The Lion in Winter, which dealt with a small segment of royal Plantagenet family life, and began to read again. After only a few minutes he closed the script, leaned back in the chair, and studied his wife.
Blair sat relaxed on the sofa, lost in thought; there was a faraway look in her eyes, and he knew she was worrying about the family, as she had been prone to do for years.
Blair was a remarkable woman—stoic, stalwart, dependable, and diplomatic. She had been blessed with an understanding of people, had enormous insight into them. He knew that being married to an actor, and a famous one at that, was no easy ride on a merry-go-round for a woman. Quite the opposite. You had to be strong, tenacious yet flexible, and willing to compromise. It struck him that she looked more beautiful than ever today. When he had first met her, he had thought of her as the epitome of the all-American beauty, tall, long-legged, with a clear, shining skin, glossy blond hair, passionate dark eyes, and gleaming white teeth. Blair had a truly lovely face, and Chloe, in particular, resembled her greatly.
He nodded to himself. Blair had aged well, like a really good wine, and she was as slim and elegant as ever. But it was her integrity, the joyousness of her spirit, her wit, humor, and warmth that he loved the most.
Blair said, “When should we talk to Stevie about Chloe, Derek?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure, when we find the right moment, I suppose. Today’s Saturday, and we’re leaving tomorrow afternoon. I think it will have to be tonight sometime. After dinner might be best.” He shook his head and exhaled. “I have a feeling she’s not going to like it. You know how she hates interference.”
“Maybe you should see Stevie alone. She has always respected you and taken your advice into account.”
“I’ve never discussed John Lane with her before.”
“There’s always a first time for everything, Derek.”
10
“I WISH YOU COULD TELL CHLOE SOMETHING ABOUT him, Stevie,” Derek said quietly. “Believe me, anything at all would help to assuage her rampant curiosity, my darling.”
Stevie returned her stepfather’s steady gaze with one that was equally as steady, then walked across the study and draped herself against the mantel. She answered in a low voice, “I can’t, Derek. You see, I don’t know anything about him myself….” She let her sentence dangle, at a sudden loss for words.
Derek appeared surprised, and he gave her an odd look, his brows furrowing. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
Clearing her throat, Stevie murmured, “I hardly knew him. I think the best way to explain it is to say that it was a…a…brief encounter. We met at a cocktail party, discovered we were incredibly attracted to each other, and went off to dinner. Later that same week we met again. At a hotel. I slept with him. And that’s when I got pregnant.”
“And what did the gentleman in question have to say about that? I presume you told him you were pregnant when you found out?” Derek replied carefully.
“Yes, I did tell him. Actually, he couldn’t handle it, Derek.”
“He didn’t want to marry you?”
Stevie shook her head. “We hardly knew each other.”
“So he threw you onto your own resources?”
“If you want to put it that way, yes.”
“Charming.”
Stevie was silent.
Derek sai
d slowly, “He didn’t really die in a car crash before Chloe was born, did he, darling?”
“No, he didn’t. I told Chloe that story because it seemed to be the best explanation there was, the only thing I could come up with anyway. She had started to ask so many questions about him. I was embarrassed, to tell you the truth.” Stevie cleared her throat. “But he is dead.”
“Isn’t there anything you could give her, Stevie?”
“Such as what?”
“A letter, a photograph, something tangible of that sort.”
“Don’t be silly. I hardly knew him.”
“When did he die?” Derek asked.
“About a year after Chloe was born.”
“How did he die? What of?”
“Natural causes.”
“And presumably you found out about his death.”
“Correct.”
“How did you find out?”
Stevie gave Derek a hard stare and began to laugh. “What’s this, the Spanish Inquisition? You sound like Torquemada.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek apologized swiftly, looking chagrined. “I’m afraid I’m a bit guilty of being curious myself. After all, we’ve never ever discussed this before.”
“I know that and I cut off any discussion with Mom years ago. And you never asked me. Good thing you didn’t, too!” she exclaimed, and laughed again.
“If you didn’t know this man, had no contact with him, how on earth did you know that he had died?”
“It was in the papers,” she improvised.
“Ah, so he was well known, then,” he asserted.
“Sort of.”
“And was John Lane his real name?”
“Only partially.”
“You changed the surname for convenience?”
“I thought it better, wiser to keep him totally anonymous.”
“Would I recognize the name? Did I know him?”
Stevie stood staring at Derek, who had now seated himself in a chair near the fireplace.
“Was he an actor?” he asked when she did not respond.
“Listen, Derek, I don’t really want to continue this conversation. It happened years ago. It’s not very important who he was.”
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