Page 88 of Duchess Material

Lucy’s face flushed. The girl and Natalie pulled reds and fuchsias and blues. Lucy tried on a dozen things. And then Natalie pooled both things together and slapped her AmEx down on the counter. 15 grand went out the window like poof. Lucy felt guilty about it. It sent her into a spiral of worries.

“Can I pay you back… somehow?”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t understand… that’s my parents’ rent for a year,” Lucy insisted. “Their rent. Because they’ve never managed to buy a house, Nat.”

“Lucy, would you go out shopping with Rita and Nina?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think they would let you leave holding the bill? Did George ever leave you holding the bill?”

“No,” Lucy replied. “And it was awkward.”

“You and Winston are literally raising fur babies together in a house you refer to as yours, Luce. The two of you are as much a couple as one could be—”

“You’re not Winston—”

“Look, I will cover you knowing he’d like me to. He’s my cousin. Someday, you’ll do the same for me or you’ll host Ed and I for an excruciatingly long time in Scotland or something. Let it go. Okay?”

She said it like any of this made sense. Lucy wouldn’t argue. It was pointless. Natalie’s world and hers would never been commensurate. Natalie’s way of seeing the world would never make sense to her.

“I’m not saying be dependent on any of us, Lucy. I can feel you pulling back and buttoning your lip. But… live a little. Winston would gladly spoil you. I would, too. You’re my dearest friend, darling. Let me distract you. This shit—the press, the stress of life, and the wonder about tomorrow’s next story—it’s hard. I don’t want to say that blowing money at a shop makes it better, but it doesn’t hurt. I’m sorry your parents couldn’t buy a house. I’m sorry you feel guilty about that. Luce, that’s not your world anymore. If you didn’t realise all of us choosing to lift you up in a time of need, let me point it out. We love you. If we spoil you, it’s just because of that. Let us.”

Lucy smiled. She sighed, “Okay, I am dropping the rope. I do feel guilt, though.”

“I know. I cannot pretend to understand what you go through, Luce. I don’t. What I will say is this is your life. It’s what you want to make of it. And you’re allowed to ignore the paps, ignore the hype, and ignore your parents’ troubles. What you do every day—the ringmaster thing you do—it’s brilliant. So, what if I spoil you a bit? You held my hand and let me survive this event. Forgive me if I’m feeling a bit sappy and in the mood to spoil.”

* * *

Winston could go nowhere without being assaulted by a barrage of flashbulbs or people shouting at him about his affair with Lucy. Winston wanted to shout back at them about how he’d waited for years watching George not fully appreciate Lucy and her wonderful way of being. He wanted to tell them that he’d never meant to fall in love with Lucy. He wanted to discuss his own self-loathing. However, he couldn’t say anything. Responding to them would result in heartache.

Lucy and Winston were living in fear after she came home. She was petrified.

“I feel like I’m being punished for what he did,” Lucy said. “I just want to come home to my house and not deal with these goons. He did this to me. We didn’t do anything wrong but I’m paying for it.”

Winston just wanted to stop the bleeding. Lucy looked so pitiful. He pulled all the drapes on one side of the house closed, knowing that the vultures were taking photos from just on the other side of the gate. He put Lucy to bed after a glass of wine. She was exhausted from Paris. Lucy was a capable human being. She also liked to be tucked in and left to sleep from time to time. It was strange the things you could find adorable about a partner. It was simple and bizarre, but Winston loved to take care of her. It made him feel like even the most formidable of those around him still needed a pick-up once or twice.

Winston left her there with Holly, Frida, and Vince. He settled back on the couch, ruminating. Winston was still cross with George. He couldn’t understand why. George had to leave Lucy for Winston to have ever been able to confess his feelings for her. Winston never would have taken that to his grave otherwise. What was it then?

Winston realised that thing which bothered him most now was that George had never openly acknowledged Lucy. She was never legitimated. Part of that was Lucy’s fear of going that far. Part of that was George’s worry about commitment when he was still, clearly, in love with Patrick. Lucy had given George five happy years. She had been loyal and kind. Couldn’t he remedy this?

Winston rang George in the off chance his cousin might answer.

“Hello?” George answered.

“George?”

“Yes, coz. What is it?”

“Ummm… not sure how to ask this or even what I am asking but… could you ask the press? Could you call off the dogs so to say?”

“About what?”

“Lucy is upset. She’s frightened. The press chased the girls around Paris—”

“They do that anyway—”

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