Lies and Weddings(37)
Her first inkling that this evening was not going as planned came as soon as the wedding ceremony ended, when the Countess of Greshamsbury requested that Lady Augusta meet her immediately at the secure location closest to the wedding pavilion. Jackie suggested Lady Beatrice’s suite at the Four Seasons, which was just a short walk around the cove and safely out of earshot from the wedding guests. As soon as Augie arrived, still giddy from the six-minute-long affirmation chant that Gopal Das had led at the close of the ceremony, the event director was oh-so-politely asked to leave the room by Arabella.
Jackie made a hasty exit through the door adjoining Bea’s suite, and she did not even need to huddle close by to overhear the conversation or feel the countess’s rage vibrating through the walls.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Arabella glared icily at her daughter.
“I don’t hate you. Why would you—”
“How dare you? How dare you disgrace me, disgrace your father, disgrace all your Gresham and Leung ancestors, and more importantly, disgrace yourself like this?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You performed a striptease at your own wedding!”
“Everyone loved it, Mother. Everyone was laughing!”
“They were not laughing with you, they were laughing at you.”
“It was Maxxie’s idea. He thought it would be wicked fun if we both—”
Arabella massaged her temples like she was having a migraine attack. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see that Maxxie can flash his pale white buttocks at the whole world and everyone will laugh? Maxxie can get away with anything because he is Prince Maximillian zu Liechtenburg. You, on the other hand, are nothing more than an earl’s daughter, but you have succeeded, with my help, I might add, in accomplishing the impossible. Despite all your inadequacies, you have managed to marry into his illustrious clan, and every single member of that clan—which as you know includes most of the crowned and uncrowned heads of Europe—now thinks that their darling Prince Maxxie has married a harlot.”
“I am not a harlot.”
“After that stunt you pulled, you’re nothing more than a low-class stripper! You’re no better than one of those Wan Chai gai!”[*]
Augie’s nostrils flared; she had reached the last straw with her mother. “I’m so tired of you projecting all your issues onto me!”
“Issues? What issues?”
“Whenever you talk about trashy people, why must they always be Chinese? Why are they never European or royal? Have you seen how tacky some of Maxxie’s Norwegian cousins are? You know what you are? You’re a…a self-loathing Asian!”
Arabella laughed dramatically. “How is it self-loathing for a mother to want to instill some dignity and common sense into her daughter? It is precisely because you are half Asian that you must always present yourself in the best manner. You must be the prettiest, smartest, most charming woman in every room you enter, and you must always behave impeccably—that is what I have been trying to impress into your numb little skull all your life, but you have fought me every step of the way. All I ever wanted was for you to have an intimate, elegant, history-making wedding that Point de Vue and ?Hola! would chronicle for posterity and everyone would remember for the rest of their lives. I’m just trying to help you to be looked upon favorably as you begin your new life in a family that will not be as kind to you as your blood family.”
“Maxxie’s family loves me. Sometimes I feel like they love me and accept me more than my own family,” Augie said, her voice quavering with emotion.
“Just wait, you’ll see. Now that you’re actually married to him the knives will come out. And I will not be there to protect you anymore, to shield you from the millions of things you will do wrong in the eyes of the zu Liechtenburgs and the von Melke av Sjokolades.”
“You’re totally deluded, Mother. The zu Liechtenburgs are by no means the perfect family you think they are. Prince Julius lives most of the year with his mistress in Ibiza, and Maxxie’s mother spends her whole life shoveling alpaca shit and sucking on her bong.”
“You keep missing the point. All I ever want is the best for my children, and all they ever do is disappoint me. All they ever do is break my heart!” Tears began flowing down Arabella’s cheeks, shocking Augusta, who had never before seen her mother cry. Arabella fled the room, almost colliding into Jackie, who let out a little gasp as the door nearly hit her in the face.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Arabella asked through her tears.
“Just to your left down this hallway,” Jackie said quickly, deliberately looking away.
Arabella locked herself into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Thank god for waterproof mascara, she thought as she carefully dabbed away the dampness from her eyes with a sheet of tissue. When she was finished, she wadded up the tissue and looked around for someplace to dispose of it. Why wasn’t the dustbin under the sink, as it should be? Arabella scanned the space until she saw the dustbin next to the toilet. She threw the tissue ball toward the bin, missing it by a few inches. Bloody hell, she thought as she marched over and picked it up. Chucking the tissue properly into the bin, she noticed something peeking out among the other random bits of refuse. Something unmistakable. It was a home pregnancy test. She fished out the plastic test stick and saw that both of the two vertical pink strips had darkened. Pregnant.