| Subject: Chapter 298 - Part 1 |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, July 18, 09:32:09am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark - continues with chapter 289 >" on Monday, June 18, 06:55:17am
Dreams in the Dark (298/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
The night had been infuriating--yet strangely intriguing. In it, she had seen what could either be a very definite chink in her enemies' armor or a superbly-played ploy. If it were the former, she was thrilled, would finally have her opening; she started to seethe. But, if it were the latter . . .
Madeline was at home at last, back from a night where nothing had gone to plan. Before it, she had made all her deals, had worked out every nuance with her new co-conspirator. Still, it hadn't progressed at all as she had hoped, her dislike increasing with every second of her thoughts. Apparently, Enquist was no longer on her side.
This fact didn't bother her, on many levels, the man a rather tedious sort of colleague. Still, that he had apparently played her so well--that she had *allowed* him to, blinded by her own goals--was irritating; she let out a small huff. She had thought that she was better at her analyses than that.
This brief questioning of her own abilities passed a second later, not allowed to linger in her soul for long. Of all the traits Madeline prided herself on, her logic was the most important. If she had started to make mistakes . . .
No. That wasn't possible, never could be; her arms folded more tightly across herself, pulling her thoughts back into line. She would never allow it. Besides, she was far more intelligent than almost anyone around her, could lead them all along like puppets on strings. To think that anyone could outsmart her for long was ludicrous; her head shook firmly once. Very few of them were even capable of playing in her league.
There were a few, however--at least that she could admit to--who might be *almost* as good as she was. Adrian was the first on that list, even though the tutor had little desire to face the fact. She and the older actress had been in a state of detente for many years--nearly every move either of them made immediately checkmated by the other. It was why Madeline rarely faced the woman down anymore--finding other, subtler methods toward her goals; it was far safer. If she were planning to ever take the actress's granddaughter down, then . . .
This was her primary end, of course, the major goal of her life; she couldn't even have given a good reason why, anymore--except that they all had some vague connection to Michael. But she did her best not to think about her motivations beyond this.
Her thoughts veered again, immediately finding firmer ground. While she was certain that Adrian could be bested, if the moves were right, it was safer not to take her on in person. But challenging the woman circuitously meant taking on Michael. And that was a dilemma all to itself.
Still, this was one the tutor had relished for many years--even long before he had any distant connection to the older actress. But now that the destruction of Nikita was her goal, the man's quiet combativeness would always be a danger; the smile lingered. But it was a challenge she was certain that she was more than capable of overcoming.
It had been with this assurance that she had begun her plans for the evening, her intentions of gaining Michael's agreement seeming so straightforward; she was amazed it hadn't worked. If only Dorian had shown up as he had promised, she was certain that she would have had her victory; something within her rankled. But, as it was . . .
She had to take a deep breath to brace herself to remember her failed plans--the ones which had never even had their chance. She too had planned on using Hedda's presence, had intended to blackmail the actor with it. If everything had gone to plan, the gunman would have been sitting at Nikita's table with the actress and columnist, while Madeline was talking to Michael--both of them watching. It would only have taken--not just the poisoning of the girl's food--but Dorian's goading suggestions in front of Hedda about the need for her to look after herself for the plot to begin; she smiled, remembering. But then her intentions for the evening would have started in full.
She couldn't help mourning the fact that none of this had come to pass, wishing that she could have seen the man's face, as Enquist dropped several hints about the real father of Nikita's child. She didn't think that Hedda would have actually *believed* them, but a lack of belief wouldn't have prevented her from printing the story; the tutor's smile widened. And, once the world thought that the girl's baby belonged to someone other than her husband . . .
This had been the tutor's intentions with this evening, her reasoning for the suggestion she would then have dropped to the actor. While there was no way to make the man jealous or to make him question the origin of Nikita's baby--tragically, the couple sickeningly trusting of each other--that hadn't been the point. Still, if the world had wondered over the child's parentage, it would have made leading him toward an abortion much easier. Michael wasn't fool enough to really be devoted to such an infant--possibly not even to the thought of an offspring to carry on his name. It was clear that he was only being caught up in his wife's childish obsession with motherhood--the girl apparently not over her time playing with baby dolls. Her husband had been--as all men were--simply dragged into the experience by the lure of sexual satisfaction. He was only humoring her now.
This truth was all too obvious, Michael's lack of paternal devotion one of the many traits she admired in him. He already had one child--even if the boy didn't carry his name. Perhaps he had foolishly fought for Simone's baby, but that had been simply to try to keep the wilting affair going. Generally speaking, he was too smart for children, knew how to avoid them. Anyone who believed that he actually looked forward to being a father was too naive to credit.
She had to laugh at this idea, amazed that anyone could be so stupid. Still, that his wife was was no surprise--that girl a practically certifiable idiot--but no real adult could share the sentiment. Michael's great gift to the world--both on-screen and as a role model for those who knew him--was his absolute indifference to any closer ties to the people who surrounded him. Certainly, he could play the lover, but--like any man with sense--it was all an act. Once the final spasms of sex had ceased . . .
This was the limit of any real man's promises, of course--certainly was for the one she so admired. And she was certain that, had she gotten this opportunity, she could easily have convinced him. Perhaps Nikita was a little beyond the point when most women got abortions, but what did that matter? If she didn't survive the experience, the world was *far* better off; Madeline's smile broadened icily. And getting her to die would be all-too-easy to arrange.
It had been this end she had been angling for all along--the girl's miscarriage alone barely enough. True, she would have accepted such an outcome gladly, had it come about, but Michael's brief presence had given her a far better opportunity. She might not have had the chance to convince him to avoid the pregnancy, but it wouldn't have been necessary, once her plan got underway. With a few hints to Hedda or some other columnist, as well, Nikita's image would have been ruined, even if she had survived the abortion; she smiled, almost dreamily. It would have been entirely perfect--if only Dorian had shown up.
It was this one fly in the ointment which she hadn't anticipated, however, such a betrayal never occurring to her. True, she wasn't foolish enough to think the man trustworthy, but he seemed more than capable of following orders. Given her little tryst with him this afternoon, as well--her acting within it--she had thought certain that he would follow along, hoping to control her even more in the future; her fingers clenched over her arms. That he had decided to betray her, instead . . .
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