| Subject: Chapter 279 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, March 28, 06:58:31am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
Extra warning: This part is rated 16 and above, again for very mild curse words.
Dreams in the Dark (279/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
For a lovely night out with a beautiful girl, it had been strangely interminable--the knowledge of what still needed to be done making him constantly worry. He had been damn glad of his acting skills, unbelievably thankful that he was able to marginally pull off the appearances he needed to give. Because, if their many watchers had known what he was really thinking about . . .
Andrew sighed deeply, highly relieved to finally be at Mrs. Worth's home, the lady's presence terribly soothing; he could even reasonably cope with facing her alone, Peter having taken his sister home for the evening. If only he hadn't been here for such a terrible reason, he might have been able to enjoy it; his worried sigh was tight. Now, he just wished that Nikita were here with them, too.
"Why didn't you invite her?" he asked the woman, surprised when his voice sounded a little whiny. It took a deep breath to bring himself back to some resemblance of manhood. "She does need to know."
"She will," his benefactor assured him quietly. They were sitting by a fire in her sitting room, despite the fact that the weather wasn't particularly cold. It was a change he was quite happy about, after a lifetime in New York. To not be fighting through snow and sludge was an innovation every part of the world should have the good luck to experience. "Now, tell me the rest."
He did, in as much detail as he had Peter, trying not to leave anything out. Still, he was a little overheated by the fire, had to remove his jacket with an apology. How the woman could stand such heat was beyond him. But he supposed he had yet to readjust from a very different sort of climate.
She took no particular notice of his discomfort, was quiet, as she listened--already terribly thankful that Peter had had the good sense to stop the man from dashing over to Nikita's house immediately; that would have been exactly the sort of disaster Madeline was looking for. Her gaze refocused from this imagined calamity a moment later, trying to take in the rest of what he said--but it was too filled with erroneous speculation to bother much about. It didn't take a great deal of her mind to sift through to the tiny bits of truth.
She allowed her thoughts to roam, therefore, wondering over all the news she had heard of late; one realization became especially prominent. It was a damn good thing Michael would be coming home soon--however short his trip might be; her granddaughter would need him--not only for support but for appearances. Too long out of the public mind was almost the same as never having been in it; her sigh was silent. They were going to have to see that the pair made the most out of what publicity they could manage in just a few days.
She was well aware that the couple would be far more likely--if left to their own devices--to simply spend all their time in bed together; it wasn't that she particularly blamed them, such young love a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But the world was going to have to monopolize them a bit, if they were to protect Nikita for long; she only barely managed to pull her attention back to the young man before her. Their enemies were far too clearly up to something--and constant vigilance was their only hope of escape.
She gave the boy a maternal smile, as he finished up, allowed him the comfort he was clearly seeking. Nikita, sometimes, wanted it as well--but it was harder with her. It was only partly because Andrew was so easy to please. Mostly, it was due to the fact that there was far too much guilt involved in her relationship with both Nikita and her mother to be able to be comfortable around her for long.
This didn't mean that Adrian didn't love her grandchild--far from it. But her love had been confined lately to a simple need to protect. In looking after the girl, ensuring that Nikita was able to live the life with Michael that both of them wanted, her tenderness was shown; the older woman's gaze fell momentarily. That was about all the nurturing, at this very late date, that she felt capable of.
She pulled herself back to the supposed conversation, made herself focus on her visitor--but her questions were rather superfluous, her real information already gained. "How softly were you walking, when you came across them?" The man didn't usually stomp, but he wasn't cat-footed, either. She was hoping to make him see--to ensure that he wouldn't do anything foolish. If he fell for their plots, they were all of them doomed.
He didn't seem to understand yet, shrugging slightly. "Like I always do, I guess." She waited, looking at him, until the insinuation dawned a little more. "But I was half a building away from them. I can't imagine they heard me." He looked truly bemused that she hadn't run out to warn the actress at once.
Adrian let out a quiet sigh, trying to focus him further; she supposed he truly wasn't used to such plotting. "Madeline has excellent hearing," she assured him. When that didn't seem to faze him, she went on. "Did you hear the two of them, when they walked away?"
Oh. His eyes widened. "Yes." His look grew confused. But did that mean . . .?
It did, of course, the woman forcing a smile. "They were acting for you. Their hope was to get you to run immediately over to Nikita's, forgetting your date with Susan. Then, once you arrived, you would undoubtedly find Hedda--or some other columnist--waiting for you. You must know that Madeline's been trying to start a rumor about the two of you." Her head shook, gaze deep. "This would have been the only proof she needed."
He could see this now, was amazed at his own gullibility. Still, he did have questions. "But what about an attack on her? Why wouldn't they try it there?" It did make sense; it was out of public sight, was easily hidden. And anything that happened could be remolded later for the press.
Such events had already happened, of course--both with Nikita and, more successfully tragically, with poor Simone. Adrian sighed, almost missing the deceased woman's presence. True, if the woman had lived, the older actress had no doubt that Michael and Nikita's lives would have been complicated a thousandfold--their passion clearly inevitable. Still, there had always been a calm sense of rationality to the doomed woman; Adrian had liked her, had enjoyed what few conversations they had had. She only wished things had turned out better for them all.
This wasn't to be, however--the past irretrievable. The future alone had to be her focus. And that future needed to see her granddaughter safe.
She tried to explain what she could--what she was willing to--to her guest. "There are many reasons why they won't try that, but that doesn't mean that Nikita is safe." Her gaze was deep, warning. "I need you to look after her far more closely at the studio. Once it comes, the attack will be there."
He didn't understand, couldn't see her reasoning--but there was something in her eyes which told him to believe. Maybe it was because her look was much like the one his mother gave him, when she most needed to get her point across; he sighed, as she went on. "If you go to Nikita's home at any time, you'll destroy her. That's what Madeline wants." That look really was formidable, held his soul. "If she went to all this trouble to distract you away from the studio, that's where she's going to attack--and she'll do it soon, I'm certain." It was the how which seemed to be puzzling her now.
He blinked at her, began to understand. Still, he wondered. "Maybe it's a double-cross. Maybe she's trying to get us to look toward the studio in order to attack her at home." It did seem quite reasonable to him.
His hostess only shook her head. "That only happens in the movies, Andrew. This is life." Her gaze wandered for a moment, her look slightly desperate. "It's far more deadly than that."
He had no prior frame of reference with which to believe this insight--but he could see quite clearly that she did; he nodded, trusting her. His mother had told him before he left for California that he should listen to whatever Mrs. Worth said. To this date, he had never once distrusted his mother's advice. There was no good reason why he would decide to start now.
This fact had stood him in good stead thus far, explained his reverence for motherhood in general. It wasn't that he himself was desperate for children--had certainly done what he could to avoid them so far--but he did believe in the nobility of the pursuit, under the right circumstances. To his mind, there was no such thing as a bad mother. He would have been shocked to the very core of his being to have learned the realities of many of those he knew.
The fact that Madeline herself was a mother had never occurred to him, his world view far too entrenched. He nodded again, trying to follow his hostess's word. She, after all, was not only a mother but a grandmother. That had to mean that she had at least twice the knowledge of most of the other women he knew.
She saw that she was getting through to him, for whatever reasons, which encouraged her; she had already realized that her choice of him as a protector certainly had its flaws. Not only was he half in love with Nikita--dazzled by her maternal state, especially--but he was far too inexperienced to be able to trust many of his deeper insights. He was a flawed guardian, then. She was far more pleased that she had discovered Fredericks since.
She let him leave, with a good word and a smile, was happy enough to be done with the interview; she had gained from it what she could. Primary among her new knowledge was the fact that Madeline was trying to trick them; her sigh was silent. And the tutor had chosen one of their weakest links to attack.
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