Chapter 11

Alec was in love with her.

It was absurd. It was unbelievable. It was urgently, achingly gratifying. It made her heart lift, it made her stomach drop. Alec Cameron loved her.

She didn't know what to do. She felt awkward. She didn't know what to say to him, where to look when she was with him. The sound of his voice left her stumbling and flushing. But she couldn't keep away from him. He loved her. She was mesmerized by the thought. She was dying to know more. When had it happened? Why had it happened? What did it mean? She felt like she was fourteen, dizzy and confused, lost in the middle of the girl stuff.

But she wasn't fourteen, and neither was he. This wasn't an adolescent's daydream. Alec was an adult. He had a man's reflections and sensations. The stakes were high for him. And he loved her.

Alec's old network was finally giving up. The double exclamation points were not working. Aspen!! was being cancelled, to be replaced by a new talk show. Soap Times made it quite clear that Alec should feel vindicated; clearly he and his character had not been the show's problem at all. "Paul Tomlin simply didn't understand the daytime format, and he had no respect for the daytime audience," the article read.

Jenny went to post the article on the rehearsal hall bulletin board. Four copies were already up. She added hers anyway.

The cancelling of the show meant that a lot of good people would be available soon—not just actors and actresses, but directors and scriptwriters, cameramen and lighting people.

"Now's the perfect time for us to go to an hour," George, the executive producer of My Lady's Chamber, pointed out. "The network's ready to cancel one of the game shows if we'll do it."

A game show being cancelled for a soap? Jenny liked the sound of that. Paul Tomlin had just lost the soap community two network slots while Jenny Cotton would be picking up one. It would be another coup, even bigger than signing Edgar Delaney.

But an hour show meant five directors instead of two, a twelve-hour day, a cast that only knew the people in their own stories. She didn't like the sound of that.

All her original objections to the hour format were disappearing. She had said that soap veterans would not work well on a historical drama; Alec had proven that wrong. She had said that the visual style was too unique; the show could not have more than two directors.

But Terence and Gil had defined the style clearly enough that other directors could easily imitate it. She also had more than enough established characters for a sixty-minute show. She had gotten Tricia Steckler to postpone her return until the middle of November, but she would definitely be back then. Jenny had ideas for Georgeanna's character, but she didn't know when she would have time to do them. She had a great plan to have Robin not be the old duke's son... her ideas were endless.

The network was willing to promise her anything—more sets, more extras, even some location work—if she would agree to go to an hour. She wanted the sets, she wanted the locations, but she hated what going to an hour would do to everything. How could they feel like a family with so many new people?

Was she wrong? She needed to talk to someone who understood both her and the show. But Brian no longer seemed to care about either one. Alec would have been perfect. She longed to confide in him. He was so levelheaded, he had seen so much. He was exactly the right person to advise her. And two weeks ago she could have gone to him. But now she couldn't. It might seem like she was encouraging him.

On other hand, if she never talked to him, it might seem like she was punishing him. She didn't want him thinking that she resented him or anything like that.

This was too much for her to handle.

My Lady's Chamber

Script, Episode #659

(ACT ONE A. AMELIA'S BEDCHAMBER. WE SEE AMELIA LYING AGAINST PILLOWS, AWAKE, NOT FEELING WELL. MOLLY MOVES IN.)

MOLLY: Good morning, Your Grace. (SHE SETS THE CHOCOLATE TRAY DOWN ON BED AND MOVES TO OPEN CURTAINS.) It's a lovely day, very bright. (SHE TURNS BACK TO SEE AMELIA PUSHING TRAY ASIDE, GRIMACING.) Oh, Your Grace... I've been wondering. (SHE STRUGGLES TO STAY RESPECTFUL, BUT HER JOY IS BUILDING.) Is it possible? It has been two weeks since we would have expected...

AMELIA: (NODS) I think so. Ok, Molly. I think so.

The Duchess of Lydgate was pregnant.

From the way everyone was acting, it could have been Karen herself who was pregnant. People were congratulating her, wondering when the baby would be born, speculating about the sex, as if it were an actual baby. As absurd as he knew it to be, Alec couldn't help joining in. "Is there something you can eat," he begged Karen during lunch, "to make sure that it's a boy? I don't want to go through this again."

"A heir and a spare," Ray jeered good-naturedly. "You've got to have two, Alec. Two."

"No, I don't. If the Prince of Wales quit after one girl"—and Alec was, of course, speaking about the Prince Regent, not the gentleman who currently held that title—"so can I."

"But I'm so much better looking than Princess Caroline," Karen argued. Caroline of Brunswick had been the Prince Regent's wife; they had loathed each other. These facts about Regency life were as familiar to the cast as anything in the current contemporary political scene, and in an instant they were all talking about the tragedy of dear Princess Charlotte—the Regent's daughter—dying in childbirth as if it had happened last week instead of in 1817.

"I don't think I want to talk about people dying in childbirth," Karen said.

My Lady's Chamber

Script, Episode #664

HASTINGS: Be careful of what you say. She has not yet told His Grace.

FOOTMAN: She hasn't? Why not? Won't he be pleased? I can remember when—

HASTINGS: (OVER) I'm sure he will be very gratified. But it is not our place to question what Her Grace chooses to tell.

FOOTMAN: (STILL QUESTIONING) But we all know.

HASTINGS: It is not the same. (FOOTMAN SHAKES HIS HEAD AND MOVES OFF.)

MOLLY: (IN LOW TONES, ONLY FOR HIS EARS.) If she asks you to, would you tell him for her?

HASTINGS: (LOOKS AT HER ODDLY. IT IS A STRANGE QUESTION.) I would do anything Her Grace asked me to. (PAUSE) But why would she... is she... why do you ask something like that?

MOLLY: She dreads telling him. She's pleased, she's relieved, but she wishes it had nothing to do with him.

HASTINGS: Ah. (HE UNDERSTANDS.)

My Lady's Chamber

Script, Episode #665

ACT THREE B. (LYDGATE FRONT HALL. CLOSE-UP ON HASTINGS. HE OPENS FRONT DOOR. LYDGATE MOVES IN.

LYDGATE: I have bought a new horse. (TURNS HIS BACK SO HASTINGS CAN TAKE HIS CAPE.) I'm pleased. He will do well in town. (HE'S QUITE CHEERFUL... FOR HIM) Is Her Grace within?

HASTINGS: Her Grace is unwell, sir.

LYDGATE: Again? (SLIGHTLY IMPATIENT) Has the doctor been sent for?

HASTINGS: He visited her this morning. I do not believe it is a serious disorder.

LYDGATE: Good. Good. (NOT PAYING MUCH ATTENTION) Has that small parcel from Bond Street arrived?

HASTINGS: (DECIDES TO DO THIS) I believe Her Grace's condition is a matter for congratulation.

LYDGATE: (LOOKS PUZZLED, DOESN'T UNDERSTAND IMMEDIATELY, THEN) Oh. (MORE FEELING) Oh. This is gratifying news. (HE IS PLEASED. A NEW HORSE, A PARCEL FROM BOND STREET, NOW THIS) Yes, yes, it is.

Alec read through the script. This was going to be an interesting set of scenes to play. Of course Brian had the better part, struggling between Hastings's relief that Amelia's ordeal was over and his resentment and regret that she was carrying someone else's child. Lydgate's reaction was more limited, but all Lydgate's reactions were limited. Alec read the scene again, envying Brian his more challenging part.

Of course that wasn't all he envied Brian for.

How complicated this was. On the show Brian loved Alec's lady. In life Alec loved Brian's. In life Alec had had to call Brian and tell him Jenny was having a miscarriage. On the show Brian had to tell Alec that Amelia was pregnant.

What are you up to, Jenny? What are you trying to say?

She was awkward and nervous around him. He hated that. He wished he could explain himself, tell her that he was asking nothing from her, he was expecting nothing from her. But she had made the rules—they were not to speak of this. It was like during the first year Meg was sick, everyone holding the truth inside, each moment of secret and concealment turning a family into a group of strangers living under the same roof. Hiding from the truth was wrong, it was folly. But it was Jenny's decision. He had to live with it.

He was in makeup. Brandi, his makeup artist, gestured for him to lean back. He let the script fall to his lap. The light brush of the makeup sponge was cool against his eyelids.

This would be easier to endure if he knew how it would end. If someone would just tell him that in so much time such-and-such would happen. Then he could get through whatever lay in between. But he couldn't imagine it ever ending. Jenny would never leave Brian, and Alec would never stop loving her.

That would be the best possible outcome, he supposed, for him to stop loving her, for him to wake up one morning and find that while he cared for her and respected her, he just didn't love her anymore.

But that wouldn't happen. He knew it down to his bones. He would love her until he died.

Brandi was done with the sponge, and now a brush was flicking across his face. The brush was soft, and her moves were light and expert. It was soothing.

Suddenly something clattered by the door. It was a rolling, metallic ringing sound. Alec sat up.

Karen was charging across the room. She had obviously burst through the door, knocking over the metal wastebasket. She swept over to Alec's chair and slammed him in the chest with a script. Brandi's hand slipped and a copper-bronze stripe appeared from the bridge of his nose down to his jaw.

"You bastard," Karen shrieked. "You son of a bitch, you rat. How could you?"

Alec picked up the script. It was 665. It followed the one he had been reading. Karen must have just gotten it. "What page?"

"The Prologue," Karen snapped. "You don't waste any time."

DUKE: So is this true?

DUCHESS: Yes, yes, I am sure.

DUKE: (CROSSING TO TABLE) Then I shall make arrangements to open Lydgate Abbey.

DUCHESS: (DISMAYED, SHOCKED) The Abbey? But, Lydgate... to go to the country now, with Parliament in session.

DUKE: (COLDLY) You shall spent your time at the Abbey.

Alec looked up. Karen was still standing there, glowering at him. "Gosh." He put on his best aw-shucks-I'm-just-a-Canadian-farm-boy voice. "Being stuck at Lydgate Abbey for nine months, that's not going to be much fun, is it?"

"It's going to be awful," she stormed. "I shall be all alone, nowhere to go, no one to talk to. There won't be any newspapers. Can you imagine, no newspapers? Parliament is in session. I shall know nothing."

It seemed as though Karen thought that she was going to have to endure this in real life.

"I suppose I can just do that?" he asked. "Ship you off without asking?"

Now even Brandi was frowning at him. "I don't think I like that. You ought to ask her, Alec."

Alec leaned back in the chair, hoping Brandi would attend to the stripe on his face. "I'm a duke. I can do anything I want."

He turned out to be wrong. Within days Hastings was spearheading a conspiracy to keep Amelia in London. Of course, the character had too much dignity to conspire openly with the servants under him so he had to lead by indirection. To the Lydgate coachman, he said, "Do take care of the traveling coach. It would be a shame if anything kept it from being safe enough for Her Grace to travel in."

And, lo and behold, the next day the coachman reported one of the coach's poles had snapped.

On the day the repair was to be completed, Molly swished into the servants' hall with a tray. Her hip brushed against a pine table. The dishes rattled and she quickly leveled the tray. It was nothing, but Hastings looked at her intently. "How fortunate that you did not break your arm. Surely Her Grace couldn't travel to the country without you."

Molly was smart. She instantly let go of the heavy tray. Crockery smashed at her feet. "Oh, my arm... my arm... I swear I've broken my arm."

The housekeeper came rushing in, full of fluster and concern. A doctor must be summoned.

"Oh, no," Hastings said artlessly. "We needn't be bothering a doctor for the likes of her." With a straight face he put Molly's arm in a sling. Molly, of course, liked him touching her.

The story was popular. It had a light, rompish quality, all the little guys, the mice, ganging up on the big cat. Alec could imagine that Lydgate had had a rigid, authoritarian nanny—Brian had apparently had such a mother—and he had spent his childhood silently raging at being overcontrolled. Not getting his way as an adult brought all this back, and the duke's cold fury grew with each episode.

Brian was relishing the story. "We're going to win, you know," he announced to Alec one day in the greenroom. "She'll never leave London."

Alec did not take well to such glee. "Any day His Grace could put his foot down and she'd be gone."

"But Karen hasn't asked for a write-out," Brian returned, "and there's no Lydgate Abbey set."

Brian had him there. If Amelia went to the country, either her actress had to be written out or some temporary sets had to be built, and this cheap show was not about to do that.

Brian was winning. There was no doubt about it. In life he was winning. Jenny might be blushing when she saw Alec, but she was not wavering in her commitment to Brian. And on the show Brian's character was winning. The duchess was not leaving London.

Alec never expected things to be fair. But this was ridiculous. Brian got to play all the good parts of himself, and he got the girl. Alec got to play all the bad parts of Brian, and he didn't get the girl.

My Lady's Chamber

MEMO

DATE: October 30

TO: A much beloved cast

FROM: The incredibly thoughtful Jenny Cotton

Don't be alarmed when you read this script, folks. In the final scene Amelia acts like she's having a miscarriage. She thinks she's having a miscarriage. But she's not.

Ray laughed as he showed Alec the note attached to the latest script. "Jenny knows us, doesn't she? Karen would be suicidal if she thought she was miscarrying."

"I wouldn't be too thrilled myself," Alec responded. "If she loses this baby, I'll have to put my nose back to the grindstone until she gets another."

"Your nose?"

"Whatever." Alec flipped open the script, looking for the scene in question. He didn't miss the sex scenes, but he missed how challenging they had been. Lydgate was getting to be more and more of a one-note character, reacting in the same way episode after episode. Alec had to wonder if his forcing Jenny to openly acknowledge that she had been basing the character on Brian was the cause. Perhaps she was now less willing to explore the character's nuances.

He found the script's final scene. It was set in the Chinese room of Lydgate House, a set so gorgeous and difficult to dress that once it was up, it was used and used until the viewers were gagging. Amelia was writing at the table, Hastings entered with a message. She rose, she swayed and started to faint. He caught her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa.

Starting to faint... catching her in his arms... carrying her... Alec couldn't breathe.

This was exactly what had happened when Jenny had been pregnant—she had swayed and grown faint, Alec had lifted her and carried her into the hospital.

I did that for her.

So? Writers used their own experiences. That's what they did. It didn't mean anything.

No, it meant something. Jenny might use her own life to develop the show, but she also used the show to understand her own life.

What was Hastings like? He was calm, he was determined, he was orderly. He was a leader, the kind who didn't care about titles, medals, or other recognition just as long as people followed his leadership. He was a man who could pick and choose his battles. That was Hastings.

And it wasn't Brian. Not by a long shot. Brian needed praise, he needed public acknowledgement, he needed approval.

Alec was not arrogant. But he knew his strengths. How had Hastings settled the Rose Hill Farm matter? A quiet word here, a firm look there, even though it had not been his responsibility. That was exactly how Alec would have handled it, how he did handle things around here.

Hastings is me. He was sure of it.

He was playing a character based on Brian, and Brian was playing a character based on him.

And the duchess loved the character based on him.

Jenny... Jenny.

She didn't love him. He knew that. But she was dreaming about it, she was fantasizing, she was imagining. And Jenny's imagination was powerful.

He didn't remember leaving the dressing room—if he said anything to Ray or if he just left. He didn't remember climbing the stairs, but suddenly there he was in her office. She was pushing back from her computer, looking up, smiling.

How he loved her. He loved everything about her. The callus on her finger which she had gotten from holding a pen; the little holes in her ears, always visible because she never remembered to put in earrings; the clutter on her desk; and the stack of books holding her office door open—he loved it all.

Why didn't she love him back? He felt a sudden spurt of anger. She wasn't stupid—she had to know. Brian was cold, selfish, irresponsible. Why do you stay with him? Why aren't you with me? Why don't you love me?

She saw his good qualities. Day after day she was writing about them. Why wasn't that enough?

He wanted to do something. That was the only thing that had made Meg's illness bearable—the feeling that the family was participating in her treatments, learning about her disease, doing something.

But what could he do now? Jenny had made the rules. He couldn't speak, he couldn't woo her. And Alec had a rule of his own. Brian might be a jerk, but he was Alec's castmate, his colleague, another guy. Alec wasn't going to do anything behind his back.

But he couldn't walk away. He couldn't do nothing.

"I just heard of a great new restaurant," he heard himself say. That wasn't true, at least it wasn't yet. "Can I take you and Brian out to dinner?"