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Authors: Wendy Leigh
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and he would have forgiven her all her transgressions against him.
âA knight in shining armor who rescues a damsel in distress.â Iâd described Robert thusly in more innocent, carefree days when Lindy and I together watched a documentary on the legendary Robert Hartwell.
And as Georgiana was to later confess, the entire plot to divest Robert of his fortuneâwhich was masterminded by Murray, the boss of Le Châteauâwas launched only because Murray had intuited that chivalry was the deepest, most essential part of Robertâs innermost nature. The more distressed the damsel, the more likely it was that Robert would ride to her rescue.
For a wild and crazy millisecond, I catch myself wondering whether Georgianaâwho engineered so much, has engineered even thisâarranged for Murray to batter her face and destroy her beauty, just so that Robert would ride in on his white charger, rescue her, forgive her, and love her once more.
Then I remember all her justifications for what she did to him: âMy family lost their entire fortune, I was penniless and alone in Manhattan, I had a mentally disabled child and was desperate to place her in an institution where she would be loved and taken care of, but couldnât afford it. Besides, if I hadnât agreed to do what I did to Robert, Mafia thugs would have murdered me.â
No, Georgiana didnât need to have her face destroyed in order for Robert to love her once more. All she had to do was turn those legendary violet eyes on him, tell him her heartrendingly tragic life story, and he would forgive her and take her back.
As I confront the truth, I feel like I might throw up. Then the ferry passes right by the statue of Lady Liberty, and I am catapulted back to the past again, my past, a happier, more romantic past with Robert, full of promise, joy, and contentment; the day when we tossed a coin to see whether I had to read him a chapter of my erotic novel, and I picked headsâLady Libertyâand I lost. But in reality, of course, I won, because when I read him the chapter, he became mine, and I his. For just a short time, that is.
The honk of the ferry breaks into my thoughts, and above me, seagulls whirl in circles, mirroring the circuitous confusion in my heart and mind.
I know that what Iâve done to Robert is unforgivable and that he would be entirely within his rights to banish me from his life forever. Yet if only I could explain my side of the story to him, the motivations that drove me to lie to him by omission, the fears that caused me to do so, and my sincere guilt and shame over what I did, perhaps he would forgive me and take me back . . .
At that moment, just as the Brooklyn Bridge materializes to the right of me, and in the distance I can see New Jersey and Hoboken, my home until I moved into Hartwell Castle with Robert, I hear the voice of Georgiana, my nemesis.
I expect you to craft my autobiography in such a way that when Robert reads it, heâll understand exactly who I am, what I am, why there was no alternative for me but to do what I did, that I deeply regret my actions, and that I want to make it all up to him. Then heâll fall in love with me again, much deeper than before, and Iâll get him back .
Thatâs it! Thatâs the answer. Do what Georgiana wanted me to do, only this time, for myself, not her. Write my autobiography so that when Robert reads it, he will understand everything, fall in love with me again, forgive me, and take me back.
After all, I followed in Georgianaâs footsteps after she had imprisoned me in Le Château, and I managed to free myself from the grasp of her willing acolyte, Angel, by assuming Georgianaâs imperious persona and making it my own.
My decision to channel my inner Georgiana for a few short hours had the desired result, and, to my discomfort, I loved every second of it, loved it so much that even now, I wonder how much of an
âA knight in shining armor who rescues a damsel in distress.â Iâd described Robert thusly in more innocent, carefree days when Lindy and I together watched a documentary on the legendary Robert Hartwell.
And as Georgiana was to later confess, the entire plot to divest Robert of his fortuneâwhich was masterminded by Murray, the boss of Le Châteauâwas launched only because Murray had intuited that chivalry was the deepest, most essential part of Robertâs innermost nature. The more distressed the damsel, the more likely it was that Robert would ride to her rescue.
For a wild and crazy millisecond, I catch myself wondering whether Georgianaâwho engineered so much, has engineered even thisâarranged for Murray to batter her face and destroy her beauty, just so that Robert would ride in on his white charger, rescue her, forgive her, and love her once more.
Then I remember all her justifications for what she did to him: âMy family lost their entire fortune, I was penniless and alone in Manhattan, I had a mentally disabled child and was desperate to place her in an institution where she would be loved and taken care of, but couldnât afford it. Besides, if I hadnât agreed to do what I did to Robert, Mafia thugs would have murdered me.â
No, Georgiana didnât need to have her face destroyed in order for Robert to love her once more. All she had to do was turn those legendary violet eyes on him, tell him her heartrendingly tragic life story, and he would forgive her and take her back.
As I confront the truth, I feel like I might throw up. Then the ferry passes right by the statue of Lady Liberty, and I am catapulted back to the past again, my past, a happier, more romantic past with Robert, full of promise, joy, and contentment; the day when we tossed a coin to see whether I had to read him a chapter of my erotic novel, and I picked headsâLady Libertyâand I lost. But in reality, of course, I won, because when I read him the chapter, he became mine, and I his. For just a short time, that is.
The honk of the ferry breaks into my thoughts, and above me, seagulls whirl in circles, mirroring the circuitous confusion in my heart and mind.
I know that what Iâve done to Robert is unforgivable and that he would be entirely within his rights to banish me from his life forever. Yet if only I could explain my side of the story to him, the motivations that drove me to lie to him by omission, the fears that caused me to do so, and my sincere guilt and shame over what I did, perhaps he would forgive me and take me back . . .
At that moment, just as the Brooklyn Bridge materializes to the right of me, and in the distance I can see New Jersey and Hoboken, my home until I moved into Hartwell Castle with Robert, I hear the voice of Georgiana, my nemesis.
I expect you to craft my autobiography in such a way that when Robert reads it, heâll understand exactly who I am, what I am, why there was no alternative for me but to do what I did, that I deeply regret my actions, and that I want to make it all up to him. Then heâll fall in love with me again, much deeper than before, and Iâll get him back .
Thatâs it! Thatâs the answer. Do what Georgiana wanted me to do, only this time, for myself, not her. Write my autobiography so that when Robert reads it, he will understand everything, fall in love with me again, forgive me, and take me back.
After all, I followed in Georgianaâs footsteps after she had imprisoned me in Le Château, and I managed to free myself from the grasp of her willing acolyte, Angel, by assuming Georgianaâs imperious persona and making it my own.
My decision to channel my inner Georgiana for a few short hours had the desired result, and, to my discomfort, I loved every second of it, loved it so much that even now, I wonder how much of an
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