she recovered. The doctors had given her up, but she started getting well the following day. And the Church has given me strength . . . turn to it, Dolores! Your children will grow up and leave you. Your body is filled with unfulfilled passion like mine was. But you'll find that in loving Jesus, our Lord . . . you will find a release and the inner strength will grow imtil it fills you. Oh, it won't be easy . . . but remember I'll always be here to help."
Dolores went back to New York. The children went to school. She called Barry's office and was informed he had gone to Bermuda over Easter. She relaxed . . . how could he know when she would return ... he had called her when it had happened ... he had come to the fimeral . . . but she explained she had to stay on the farm over Easter.
She went to see a priest—one at the Paulist church who had always been kind and seemed more worldly than most. She explained how she did "believe" . . . and yet she didn't. He tried to coimsel her. She went to confession. She said the Stations of the Cross, but she felt no inner strength. No . . . Bridget had foimd it, but maybe with Bridget it had always been there. If Jimmy hadn't been President, she would have walked out on him after he had his first affair. Timothy Ryan had not been President, yet Bridget had sat by and raised her children and turned to the Church for strength.
Life fell into its regidar pattern. She listened to Mary Lou's French lesson . . . helped her with the verbs . . . watched TV with the children . . . and at nine o'clock sent them off to bed. She was restless. At eleven o'clock she heard the slight ring of the doorbell announcing that the News and the Times had been dropped. She walked out and picked them up and carried them into her bedroom. She got into bed . . . suddenly her heart seemed to turn to lead. Barry's pictiu-e was on the front page of the News. In a quiet ceremony in Bermuda, he had married Debbie Morrow!
She lay awake imtil three in the morning. That made it eight in London. Then she placed the call to her sister. She got through immediately.
"Dolo." Nita was angry at being awakened. ''What's the matter? I'm sorry I couldn't come for the fimeral but we cabled flowers and all that."
"Forget the fimeral. I want to ask you something."
"Couldn't you have waited imtil a civilized hour?"
"This can't wait. Find out if Baron Erick de Savonne still wants to marry me."
Nita was now wide awake. "You mean it!"
"Absolutely."
"Well, I'll track him down. I think he's in Paris ... no ... he was here last week and was going to Switzerland. Let me find him and I'll call you back."
Nita called back within an hour. "He says Yes . . . and to lose twenty pounds ... he likes his women thin."
"When will I hear from him?"
"You're to cable him when you lose the twenty pounds." Then Nita hung up.
A Happy Union
Dolores went to a doctor Nita had told her about. She got the green pills that killed her appetite. She lived on black coffee . . . diet sodas . . . and one meal of fish each day. She had the exercise man again and worked with him an hour each morning. She took sauna baths twice a week. At the end of five weeks she had lost twenty-two poimds. She called Nita. "I weigh one hxmdred and seven.. ,"
"You can't. . . you're three inches taller than I . . . and I weigh one himdred and one."
"I weigh one hundred and seven. Tell him to come here and weigh me if he likes."
That afternoon twelve dozen roses arrived.
164
The Baron arrived the following day at noon. He came directly to her apartment after calling her from the airport. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a black sweater. She looked pencil-slim.
He stared at her when he entered and nodded in agreement. "You have done a magnificent job. Now, about our wedding ... I suggest it take place at my house in the country. It is eighteen miles from Paris, but it is like a castle. Your sister is already working on the guest list. I have invited all the dignitaries of state. Shall we break it to the newspapers here? My men are waiting."
"Before it breaks in the papers there is one thing you must do," she said quietly.
"What is that?"
"Come to Virginia with me and tell Bridget."
His smile was radiant. "It will be my pleasure. I have my plane waiting at your convenience at the airport."
"Let me call Bridget."
She went into the bedroom. Bridget answered immediately. "I was just about to have lunch. Are you feeling well?"
"Marvelous."
"Dolores, I don't want to soimd like a nagging mother-in-law, but do you realize it's been over a month since you saw me."
"I've been attending to some important matters."
"You've gotten involved with tKe Church!"
"No, Bridget ... I tried that. Look, this is urgent . . . may I come there and talk to you?"
"I was planning to surprise you and come to New York at the end of the week."
"This can't wait, Bridget. Can I fly down this afternoon?" ^
"Of course."
She returned to the living room. Erick was on the phone. He signaled her to be quiet, then he said, "Fine . . . buy it all up. I'll check with you later in the day." He himg up and turned to her. "Just a little business I had to attend to."
"I attended to mine," she said slowly. "My mother-in-law says we may come down this afternoon."
"Fine. Well leave immediately. I'll tell the pilot." He went to the phone. She watched those heavy fingers on the dial. Those fingers would soon be touching her body . . . she would be expected to kiss those ugly thick lips. She dashed into the bedroom and quickly changed into a suit. But the skirt fell off her. Nothing fit her but a few pairs of pants. She put on the best pair and grabbed a jacket.
"I have no clothes," she said as she walked into the living room. "I'm so thin now, nothing fits."
'Tomorrow you will buy everything you
need." They drove to the private airport in silence. She saw the plane waiting . . . the pilot and copilot standing at attention. A steward helped them in. Then Erick tossed a box at her. "Take off that coat. I brought you this one."
She opened the box and felt the unbelievable softness of the sable. "Oh Erick . . . how beautiful.. . but I can't wear it over pants."
"You can do anything. Remember that. And I like you in those tight pants and tight sweaters. Put on the sable."
She tried it on and whirled through the plane like a child. The steward brought a huge tin of Iranian caviar and a bottle of champagne. "We break your diet today," Erick said. And like a child, Dolores sat in her sable and ate caviar cdl the way to Virginia.
Bridget showed no surprise when she saw Baron Erick de Savonne. She received him cordially. She acknowledged that they had met at her son's fimeral.
"But this is a happy time. I have come to ask your daughter-in-law's hand in marriage."
Bridget stared at him for a moment. Then she looked at Dolores. "May I speak to my daughter-in-law alone?"
Erick bowed graciously and retreated to the living room. Dolores followed Bridget to a small den demurely.
'Take off that ostentatious coat," Bridget said. "Sable in April!"
"He just gave it to me ... on the plane." "How long has this been going on?" "He asked me to marry him a year ago . . . when the children and I were visiting Nita. I gave him an unqualified No."
"What caused you to change your mind?" "Bridget . . . I'm going to be forty . . . there is no one ... I can't make it each year on the thirty thousand . . . I've been digging into my capital . . . borrowing from Nita . . ."
"If you had told me I'd give you more." "It's not that. My expenses will increase. The twins will need to go to college. Mary Lou will also go to college and have a proper debut ... I couldn't let you support me. Also, the twins need a father."
"He's a grandfather!"
"Bridget." Dolores got on her knees and put her head in the woman's lap. "I'm so lonely. You're the only person I have. And you have your own children and grandchildren. I have no close friend
. I'm tired of being a legend ... of pinching pennies ... of using Michael as an escort."
"What about the Supreme Court Justice?" "What about him?" Dolores flared. "He's past sixty and has no real money."
"Money," Bridget snorted. "Is that all that matters to you?"
"Bridget, you've never been without it ... or had to worry about it—you can't understand. You've never had my kind of loneliness."
"But that man . . . couldn't there be someone else? Why didn't you encourage Barry Haines after his wife died? Now he was good-looking . .« the kind of a man you should have married."
"Bridget," Dolores said softly. "I loved him with all my heart. But he also had to marry for money. It almost broke my heart."
Bridget's eyes misted. "I had no idea ..." Then she sighed. "Of course, you will have to break with the Church."
"I will raise my children as Catholics . . . but I will not be able to be married by a priest."
"Can you accept this?"
"Better than the loneliness and heartbreak I have known."
Bridget stood up and walked into the living room. She held out her hand to Erick. "Congratulations, sir ... I hope you make my daughter-in-law happy."
He kissed her hand. "And would you honor us by coming to the wedding?"
"When and where will it be?"
"In my villa outside of Paris. In ten days. I will send my plane for you."
"I shall come . .. and so shall my son and my three daughters."
"Madame, you make me very proud/' he said hoarsely.
"And now I must rest. I am not yoxmg, you know . . . and surprises take a great deal out of me. I shall also pray for your imion to be a happy
one.
The Bridal Suite
Dolores couldn't believe the frenetic activity of the next ten days. She lost two more pounds and fought to keep the children from showing their sullenness toward Erick. The news made headlines all over the world. There were several meetings with lawyers for both sides as the marriage contracts were drawn up and signed. Then Erick whisked her and the children off to Paris and she was spared seeing the resims of publicity that berated her for this move. America was ftirious. Their Princess had deceived them. They had made her their Princess. And now she was theirs to vilify. Women wrote hate mail to newspapers. Editorials ran against the marriage . . . everyone seemed
171
aghast at the merger . . . thousands and thousands of hate letters arrived addressed to her. After opening a few, she burst into tears. She was staying at the Ritz in Paris. Erick had taken a whole floor for her and the children and the servants he had gotten for her. He took her to every couturier. She knew he spent several hundred thousand on gowns, shoes, underwear, nightgowns. He bought her three more fur coats. And then the day before the wedding everyone went to his villa.
Bridget, Michael, Joyce, and the three sisters and their husbands had arrived. Erick had lavish suites for them. Dolores couldn't believe the "villa." It was like a castle. Her own "bridal suite" was a hundred-foot bedroom, a large dressing room, a room for shoes, another room for hats and a room for clothes and furs. Then there was another dressing room ... a saxma ... a bidet . . . and another room that had a sunken bathtub, large enough for six people to bathe in. There was an indoor swimming pool and ice-skating rink in the villa . . . there was an outdoor pool . . . and fifty acres of land that adjoined it.
The night before the wedding, Erick gave everyone gifts. Nita received a Vacheron diamond wristwatch. Bridget received an antique cross encrusted with gemstones. The children were given masses of games and toys and bicycles and a horse for each of them. Then Erick placed a huge ruby
and diamond necklace around Dolores' neck and handed her earrings to match. "You put them on yourself." He waited while she put them on her ears . . . then he took her hand and slid on the most massive perfect diamond she had ever seen.
Everyone gasped. "How many carats is it?'' Nita asked.
"Sixty/' Erick said. "It's the most perfect gem-stone in the world."
That night she slept in a guest suite. But she was too excited to sleep. Never had she seen money spent like this. She couldn't wait until she saw their ocean liner. That afternoon she had signed the final premarital contracts. It was just as he had said it would be. She wondered what would happen after the wedding. Maybe they'd go on a honeymoon on the ocean liner .. . honeymoon . . • she ran her hands down her slim body. Oh God ... tomorrow night this body would be his ... to maul ... to take. She could almost feel his lips slobbering on her. She got out of bed and swallowed two sleeping pills and washed them down with some Scotch.
The maid had to rouse her the following morning. She bathed in a lethargic state. The hairdresser arrived. She was to stay in the suite until five when the ceremony took place. Her bridal gown was high-styled, demure . . . perfect.
When she stood before the mirror she realized
she had never looked as beautiful. If only Barry could see her . . . But he would, because the Baron was going to allow the press in after the wedding for a ten-minute interview and photographic session. She wondered what Barry thought of all this. Had he thought she'd wait and eventually they'd go back to their old arrangement? Well, she had shown him. She had shown the world!
During the wedding ceremony, she had not dared to look at Bridget or the children. When it was over, she hugged everyone. A lavish dinner was served. One himdred people were seated. There was a butler behind every second guest. There were gifts for all the women.
At eleven o'clock the last guest had departed. She climg to Bridget. Erick was sending them all to Paris in his cars—he had engaged suites for everyone at the Ritz. Tomorrow his private plane would take them back to the States.
Dolores lay in bed in the bridal suite. The house was empty. She was wearing her white satin nightgown . . . she stared at the empty bed beside her. When the last guest had departed and they had gone to their bridal chamber, she had watched him change into a gray suit with amazement.
"Where are you going?"
"To my mistress . . . she is waiting."
And he had left her . . . untouched. And he
hadn't even tried to deceive her. It was as cut and dried as that. She held out her hand and stared at the ring. It glowed like fire in the semidarkness. She rubbed it against her satin nightgown . . . and stared at it as the tears ran down her cheeks. . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jacqueline Susann was one of the most successful writers in the history of American publishing. Her first novel. Valley of the Dolls, published in 1966, holds the best-selling fiction record in The Guinness Book of World Records. The Love Machine was published in 1969 and became an immediate #1 bestseller and held that position for five months. When her third novel. Once Is Not Enough, was published in 1973, it also moved to the top of the bestseller list and thus established Jacqueline Susann as the first novelist in history to have three consecutive #1 bestsellers. Her first book, however, remained her own personal favorite. Every Night, Josephine! was first published in 1963 and was reissued in a new hardcover edition in 1974. Altogether, the Susann books are published in more than thirty languages worldwide em.d are estimated to have sold over 50 million copies in all editions. And now, added to this body of work, is Dolores, the theme of which Jacqueline Susann called "the most challenging and haunting on which I have ever worked."
Jacqueline Susann was bom in Philadelphia. Her father, the late Robert Susann, was a noted portrait artist. Her mother. Rose Susann, is a retired public school teacher, and it is to her that Dolores is dedicated. Jacqueline Susann was an actress before becoming a writer (of her career in the theater, she liked to say that the plays she appeared in broke all records too—the track records for opening and closing). In private life she was the wife of television and motion picture producer Irving Mansfield for almost thirty years. She died on September 21,1974, after a struggle with cancer that began in December 1962. She was fifty-three.
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