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

by Colette Saucier

  “C’mon, Alice,” Eileen said. “We need to go, too.”

  “Crap! Why the hell is he coming? I specifically heard him tell Jack that he hated the eighties. He called it a ‘deplorable waste of an evening.’ I can’t believe he’d change his mind.”

  Eileen smiled at her friend with brows raised. “Oh, can’t you, now?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mmmhmm. Go ahead, play coy with me. He changed his mind when he found out you were coming.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He despises me for turning him into Sienna’s brother. The only time he even speaks to me is to criticize. He has nothing but contempt for me and everything to do with the show.”

  “If you say so,” Eileen said, her intonations like notes on a xylophone.

  “For an actress, you don’t sound very convincing.”

  *****

  Duran Duran poured out from the glittering dance floor as Eileen and Alice walked in to the nightclub, late as usual. Most of the cast and a few members of the crew were already there and had claimed several tables near a large circular booth. Where he sat. With her. Winnie had her arms crossed and stared away from, well, everything, petulance painted on her face as heavily as her make-up. The flashing lights danced on the sweat beaded on Peter’s forehead, and his expression dripped with boredom as he scanned the room. Then his gaze landed on Alice, and their eyes locked. She hated her own circulatory system for rushing blood into her cheeks. Damnit, does he have to look at me with those movie star eyes?

  Eileen freed her from his spell by seizing her arm. “Alice,” she yelled over the music but directly into Alice’s ear, making her cringe. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  “Yes!”

  Jack and Giselle were chatting together at the bar when she and Eileen walked up, and they stood and hugged as if they hadn’t just been together a few hours before.

  “How has the music been?” Alice asked them. “Have you been dancing?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “The DJ is good. All eighties dance music, as you’d expect.”

  “You missed ‘Holiday,’” Giselle told her.

  Alice shrugged. “That’s not one of my favorites. I’ll wait until ‘Get Into the Groove’ or ‘Like a Prayer.’”

  “So I hear you’re quite the Madonna fan,” Jack said

  She shook her head then ordered a Jack Daniels & ginger ale from the bartender. “My mother – huge Madonna fan. I guess I kind of inherited it from her. I uh…” The bartender handed her a plastic cup full of ice with a splash of tan liquid. She focused on her drink as tiny prickles of emotion moved up the back of her nose to behind her eyes. “It, uh, makes me feel close to her. Funny how even happy memories can make you feel sad.”

  Jack ran his hand up and down her arm, and she glanced up to see him frowning. “I’m sorry, Alice.”

  She forced a smile on her face and shook her head before tears could gather in her eyes. “No, I’m fine!” She drank down the contents of her drink, which amounted to about three tablespoons. “I am just ready for a few more of these and a song I can dance to.”

  Perhaps it was kismet, or maybe the spirit of her mother intervened, but as Alice finished her second drink, the opening strains of “Like a Prayer” began, and all four of them squealed with wide-eyes as if they’d just won a trifecta, and they ran out onto the dance floor. They jumped up and down, shaking their hips and clapping during the refrains, she and Eileen leaning against each other singing, “I’m down on my knees” through their grins; then they lofted their arms above their heads, waving them through the foggy air with the precision of ballet dancers during the slow verses.

  This segued into the Eurythmics “Missionary Man,” and Alice danced with wild abandon, knowing she couldn’t dance worth a damn but not giving a shit. Then she caught a glimpse of Peter, sitting alone – Where had Winnie run off to? Gone to powder her nose? – in the booth watching them.

  She screamed in Eileen’s ear. “Why did he even come if he’s just going to sit there and pout all night? He’s just here to draw attention to himself and make the rest of us feel uncomfortable.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think? Peter.” She motioned in his direction with a subtle jerk of her head.

  “What do you care, right? Just ignore him. He’s not even bothering you.”

  Maybe that’s what was bothering her. No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! “He’s sitting there just watching us.”

  With a playful glint in her eye – or maybe it was just the mirrored ball overhead – Eileen ran her tongue over her teeth. “Maybe he likes to watch.”

  Alice gaped at her and grinned then slapped her upper arm. “You naughty, naughty girl!”

  “Ouch!” Eileen rubbed her arm. “For what it’s worth, Giselle said he’s staying in the booth so he won’t draw attention to himself. There are enough people here not from the show that he’d probably be swarmed with gawkers taking pictures of him with their cell phones.”

  “Then I wonder why he came at all, if just to be miserable.” Rick Astley’s voice droned through the speakers. “Ugh. I hate this song. I’m going to go to the bathroom then get another drink. Can I get you something?”

  Eileen shook her head, and Alice scootched her way through the crowded dance floor – Really? For Rick Astley? – and went to the ladies room before heading toward the bar.

  Peter got to the bar just as she did. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “It’s ladies night. My drinks are free.”

  His eyes wandered over her Culture Club t-shirt and jeans then back up to her face where they remained. “I thought you said you were going to dress like Madonna.”

  “Jack and ginger,” she said to the bartender. “I said I might. I couldn’t find my rosaries. Misplaced after years of disuse.”

  “You, sir?” asked the bartender.

  “Double Jack on the rocks,” he answered without turning away from Alice.

  “So, Peter, are you having fun?”

  He nodded. “I am enjoying myself.”

  “No place you’d rather be instead of wasting your time here?”

  “Well, I guess I could think of a few places I’d rather be.”

  “OK. Name one.”

  He stared at her from over his cup as he sipped his drink, penetrating her with his eyes, setting butterflies off flittering in her tummy. She pushed her drink away; she’d obviously had too much.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  “All right. I would like to be with my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Yes. I don’t get to see her often. She’s amazing. I suppose all parents think that of their children, but in my case it’s true,” he said with a teasing smile. “So smart. She would love you.”

  Me? She flinched, surprise wrinkling her brows. “Me? Why would you think your daughter would like me?”

  He leaned on his elbow on the bar. “I don’t know. I suppose because of your feisty McGillicutty spirit.”

  Alice almost did a spit-take but managed to suppress her laughter. “Oh, yes, the McGillicutty spirit.”

  “Unfortunately, she wants to be an actress like her mother. Turn into another Hollywood Barbie doll.”

  “Like her mother? And her father’s occupation has nothing to do with it?”

  He smiled. “Touché.”

  Then the electro-beat of Dead or Alive thundered through the club, and Alice’s eyes closed and mouth opened as she jumped up. “Oh my god, I love this song!”

  He kicked back his Jack and set his cup down on the bar. “Come on. Let’s go dance.”

  “Listen, I didn’t say I liked this song to get you to dance with me. I am fine dancing with my friends.”

  He held his hand out to her. “I know that. Dance with me anyway.”

  His words mixed with the tempo of the music to send a tremor through her. “I know you hate to dance – and you hate eighties music. You probably don’t even know th
is song.”

  “Yes. I do.” He leaned over and spoke in her ear, that sultry voice from the silver screen carried on his warm breath against her neck. “‘Come Home With Me.’”

  He pulled back and she shivered, the blood that had infuriated her earlier now having deserted her, leaving her skin tingling.

  Then a voice behind her. “Peter!”

  Saved by the dumbbell.

  Peter brought his hand up, squeezing his forehead as he released a ragged sigh. “What is it, Winnie?”

  “I have never been so annoyed. I’m sick of this place. And I’m tired. Can’t we leave now?”

  “Actually, Miss McGillicutty and I were about to – ”

  “No, you two go on,” Alice said and removed herself from between them.

  “Alice, wait.”

  “Thanks, Peter. I know you were being polite; but, really, I don’t need a dance partner. Winnie needs you to take her home.” Then she skipped off to the dance floor and away from him, in time with the frenetic beat of the music.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Edge of Darkness

  Chapter 16

  The duke appeared at rehearsals one day and presented me with a single red rose.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “My dear lady, that is one of the privileges of having power, money, and royal blood.” He leaned forward and gave me a kiss, which probably would have lasted much longer had I allowed it. I had to admit, the duke had been quite understanding and gracious about my desire to take things very slow. “Will you join me for lunch?”

  “I’d love to,” I said, and I meant it.

  Over lunch, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were an actress?”

  “I guess for the same reason you didn’t at first tell me you are a duke. I didn’t want you to judge me by my title.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Most people see actors as failures or dreamers or bums unless they become a star.”

  “Oh, my dear, you are already a star in my eyes, even if you weren’t an actress.”

  I blushed and grinned. “You always know exactly what to say.”

  After a fabulous lunch, he took me back to the theatre and said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I can’t. I have to work.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Robert, I have to work.”

  He tapped my nose. “You are certainly no bum.” We kissed goodbye, more than once, and parted without settling if we would see each other or not.

  I did see him that night, but rather than as a date, as a member of the clientele. I felt sorry for him eating alone under the gold murals, and when it wasn’t too busy, I walked over to talk to him.

  He stood as I approached and had me sit on the wall side of the table next to him. “You look absolutely radiant this evening.”

  I smiled. “So do you.”

  “Ha, ha! Aren’t you the charmer!” I found him rather charming, with all the chivalry of Middle Ages’ knighthood. The waiter eyed me when he came to the table and set a steak in front of the duke, which he began carving. “Darling, I must leave for Britain tomorrow.”

  “What? Why?”

  “My love, that is where I am from. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I must return from whence I’ve come.” He set down his silverware and brought one hand to lift my chin to look into my eyes. “England is my home.”

  “So,” I said with a cry in my voice, “that’s the end of us?” I knew my tone exaggerated my feelings. Although I certainly found him gallant and I had enjoyed the brief time we had had together, I couldn’t say I was crushed by his leaving.

  “That is why I wanted to speak with you.” He took my hand in both of his, kissed it, then rubbed it against his cheek. “I want you to come to England with me.”

  I was in too much of a state of shock to hide it. “What? But we barely know each other!”

  “Alexandra, I do love you. I know you don’t want to believe me, but I do. Please say you will.”

  “I…I can’t.” I pulled my hand away.

  “Why not?”

  “I have a play to do.”

  “You do have an understudy.”

  “You don’t understand. Acting is everything to me. It’s my life.” I might have sounded overly-dramatic, but I wasn’t acting. “I could never make you happy because I would be an adulteress. I am only faithful to my art – it is my only love.” I thought the speech rather good for being improvised.

  “I see. Then I shall stay here with you so you needn’t leave your one true love.”

  I worried about what he might expect from me if he stayed. “But what about ashes to dust? Returning to your homeland?”

  “My darling, I would give any price for you.”

  “Why?”

  He slammed his palm on the table. “Because I love you, Goddammit!” Everyone in the restaurant turned and looked at us, and he leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. “Can you get that through that actor’s head of yours? Do you think I go after every woman I meet like this? You are special to me. I refuse to let you go.”

  I found his words both flattering and disconcerting. “But I would feel guilty if you gave up your home for me.”

  He took my face in his hand. “You are not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do. That is not within your power.”

  God, help me, I prayed. “You…you just don’t know me well enough. Once you do, you will see you don’t love me. You couldn’t possibly love me now.”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel, Alexandra. I love you, and nothing will change that.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then go. Go back to England. If, in one year, you feel the same, come back for me. Then I will know your love is strong enough to last.”

  He looked mournful. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I have loved and lost, and I’d rather never have loved at all.”

  “He really did hurt you.”

  “He really did.”

  “I shall go. I have caught a beautiful butterfly and would love to have her near me always, but I must love her enough to let her go so she may be happy.”

  He walked out without even kissing me goodbye, leaving behind his twenty-dollar steak. A part of me hoped he would come back in a year, but I refused to let it show.

  *****

  “Come in.”

  Her door opened to Mr. Peacock escorting an extremely attractive man grinning broadly. “Alice, I wanted to introduce you to Rich Dover. He’s been cast as…What’s Sienna’s new man’s name?”

  “Raife,” she said, walking around her desk.

  “Haven’t we already had a Raife?”

  “I – I don’t know. I’ll look into it. Nice to meet you, Mr. Dover.”

  He took her offered hand and shook it between both of his. “Rich, please. Glad to be here.”

  “You look familiar. Where might I have seen you?”

  “I’ve had small parts over the years. A murderer here, a victim there. You are probably most familiar with my film work. Co-worker, secondary friend. Before that I had become quite well-known as ‘Party-goer number 3.’”

  She chuckled. “Well, I do hope going from films to soaps isn’t too much of a disappointment for you.”

  He shook his head. “I am happy to be acting. The rest is just geography.”

  “That’s a refreshing attitude. I guess you know you’re going to hit the ground running, starting tomorrow. Raife’s role is important right from the beginning.”

  “So I’m coming in as Sienna’s lover?”

  “Well, eventually, but first you do have to meet. You are going to find her crying in church because she just found out the man she’s been dating is her brother, so you will be there to comfort her.” I wonder if it’s too late to change his role to a duke!

  “And I’m a priest?”

  “Not yet. You’re in the seminary.”

  He
listened and nodded as she went over his role and never once complained about the implausibility. Yes, he will do nicely.

  Alice walked out to the set with Rich and Mr. Peacock to introduce the new Raife to his co-stars.

  “Everyone,” Mr. Peacock said, “this is Rich Dover. He will be Sienna’s new…whatever.”

  “Eloquent as ever,” Alice said, which was the last anyone said before a crash in the corner diverted everyone’s attention to Peter.

  As they all watched in stunned silence, Peter glared at Rich then stomped across the soundstage and out the door, which would have slammed with a terrific racket had it not had a pneumatic closer. Instead, with excruciating slowness, it came to rest against the jamb with a whisper. Then all eyes turned to Rich, who stood frozen in place, as white as a ghost.

  “I take it you two know one another,” Mr. Peacock said.

  “I thought I was taking his place.”

  “You are with Sienna,” Alice said, “but he’s still on the show.”

  Beads of sweat had formed on his upper lip, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “As you may have guessed, he and I are not friends.”

  She frowned. “I don’t anticipate that you will be having any scenes together. And he’s leaving the first week of July to film a movie and won’t be back until after the Olympics.”

  That seemed to reassure him, and he smiled at her and blotted his mouth with his sleeve. “Sorry. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he has a vicious temper.”

  “Actually, I have been on the receiving end of that temper.”

  “I’ll let you finish the introductions,” Mr. Peacock said to Alice and, with a pat on Rich’s shoulder, excused himself.

  “So you’ve been a victim of the famous Walsingham temper, too,” Rich said, fully restored to the man she had met in her office.

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I was a victim, but I have seen it in action. He and I are not on friendly terms either.”