The Thrill Is Gone

“I reckon this is starting to feel an awful lot like a bird’s night in,” complained Alfred, who was halfway done with a large bag of chips. “And need I remind you lot that I'm a –”

“Hush up!” exclaimed Olivia, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Don’t act like you’re not keen on knowing what’s happened.”

“She already told us what’s happened!” he cried in frustration. “They’re back together. That’s it.”

“Yes, I know that, but I want to know how it is they got back together.”

“But she’s told us that as well. He took a mariachi and sang and had loads of sunflowers there for her,” he reminded.

“Alfred Vaughan Ferrars, if you don’t stop your whining, I'm gonna lock you out and you’ll have to sleep in the living room,” threatened Olivia. “And don’t act like the living room’s such a brilliant option. Collette has a few mates over and they’ll surely get up to mischief and put some make up on you.”

“Oh alright,” grumbled Alfred, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ve already said everything I’ve had to say,” spoke Paulina, her hair still damp from the shower.

“Nonsense!” declared Olivia. “Alfred was just being an oaf, but he wants to hear what else happened just as much as I do. Isn’t that right, Alfie?” She shot him a nasty glare.

He took the hint and proceeded to say, “Nothing would make me happier than to find out whether or not you and the Prince had a snog.”

“See, he wants to hear what happened! So out with it!” she smiled encouragingly at Paulina, hoping that her friend would give them a detailed account of everything that happened.

“Um, like I was saying, I was getting drunk and watching Mulan, and then out of nowhere I heard my name being screamed. I thought it was Callum and them, that they’d probably gotten shitfaced and were just wandering around, but when I went to ask what was going on, I saw Henry there. It was really strange, and I immediately accused him of being drunk, because that was the only reason I could think of for his being there. But he said he had something to show me, and next thing I knew, Christmas lights were turned on, there was a field of sunflowers and he started . . . he started singing with a mariachi.” Paulina couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

“That’s so romantic,” sighed Olivia, clutching her pillow tightly.

“It was,” agreed Paulina. “But it was also really funny. I mean, I seriously felt like laughing a little. I was taking in how sweet it all was, but then I couldn’t help but think about how strange it was for him to be singing in broken Spanish along with a Mariachi. He looked so out of place. Everyone was in full get up and they had their instruments, and then he was just standing there, looking terrified. But he pulled it off, and like I said, we’re together now, officially together. And he even put up with Adrian so I know he must really love me, because Adrian is a fucking handful. He’s just so overprotective and is a little extreme sometimes.”

“But Luis likes him so that’s good. Or was it Rafa that’s keen on Harry?” asked Olivia, confused by which brother was the one that favored the prince.

“It’s Luis,” replied Paulina. “He was here when Henry was sending me flowers so he liked the dedication.”

“Well it’s good that at least one of your brothers is keen on him.” Olivia declared. “And don’t worry; we’ll be keen on him as well.”

“Speak for yourself.” Alfred put down his bag of chips. “I'm not keen on him. Don’t care if he’s royal. I’ve still not forgiven him for what happened in Africa.”

“And who says you’ve got to forgive him?” questioned Olivia. “Only person that needed to forgive him was Paulin, and she’s already done that, so there’s no point in harboring any ill will towards him.”

“Well I happen to think there is,” he huffed. “I promised Luis that I’d be his eyes, and make sure Paulin was alright. And I intend to keep that promise.”

“But you just heard her say that he was fine with Harry. Why are you goin’ to go mad when he’s already said he’s alright with him?” asked Olivia.

“Just because you’re fine with someone, doesn’t mean you don’t want to keep an eye out on them,” stated Alfred. “Don’t worry; I don’t plan to be a prat if we ever meet him again. I just intend on being cautious. That’s it.” He paused. “And since we’re on the subject of him, how is it that you two first met? Was it at that polo event?” he asked Paulina.

She shook her head. “We met before that.”

“Before that?” repeated Olivia. “Where’d you meet him then?”

“Well, to be honest, I . . . I technically met him in Alfred’s flat.” Paulina’s cheeks were already flooding with color.

“M-my flat?” he stuttered. “How would you meet him in – oh . . . oh . . .”

“What do you mean, oh?” questioned Olivia, not liking being left out of the loop.

“He shagged Charlotte.” Paulina informed Olivia.

“No!” Olivia covered her face in her hands. “Really?” she shook her head in disbelief. “I thought she was lying when she said that. You told me that she was lying when she said that!” she told Alfred.

“Well that’s what I thought as well, but now, well she just said she saw him in my flat, and the only reason he’d be in my flat would be to shag Charlotte.” Alfred couldn’t believe that his sister had actually slept with the prince. “So what happened then? Did it begin . . . there?”

“No! God, no!” bellowed Paulina. “I didn’t even know who he was. It was early, and I wanted coffee, so I went to your kitchen to fix some coffee, and then he was sneaking out. And he heard me singing, so he commented on it, except he shouldn’t have done that because I got scared and I punched him in the face, anyways it was mess. And I didn’t plan on ever seeing him again, but I did. I sort of kept running into him and eventually we started dating, and now we’re here.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “I know it’s weird, especially since he slept with your sister, but I . . . I don’t know, he’s just a really amazing guy. Sometimes he’s a little obnoxious, but he’s so genuine and funny. And he just makes me feel . . . oh, I don’t even know how to explain it. He just makes me really happy.”

“And that’s all that matters,” commented Olivia, knowingly.

“Exactly,” she shot Olivia an appreciative smile. “Well, I think that’s it. I’ve already told you guys everything else about us. Now it’s just the future, and I’ll let you guys in, you’re the only ones I trust with this.”

“So none of the rugby lads know?” asked Alfred.

“Fuck no.” Paulina shook her head. “They don’t even know I'm back together with him. I'm actually pretty scared of telling them, because they really hate him . . . like they really fucking hate him.”

“But I'm sure they’ll come around if they see you care so much for him,” spoke Olivia.

“See, I'm not to sure about that. Callum was there when Harry and I got into a really big fight, so he heard some bad stuff, and then he kind of told the others about it. So they hate him. And that was cool when I hated him, but now I'm thinking, it’s not gonna be easy. So I'm not taking Henry anywhere that they can be at.”

“That’s mental.” Alfred sat up and rested his back against the wall. “They’re gonna find out sooner or later, might as well be sooner.”

“I'm rooting for later, much later.” Paulina smiled awkwardly.

There was a brief silence, during which Olivia found the courage to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“So . . . Paulin, do you . . . that is to say, have you two spoken about becoming public?” asked Olivia.

Harry had in fact brought up that very topic a few days earlier. They’d been having a picnic at the park when he asked her what she thought about accompanying him to a polo match. He told her that they didn’t have to arrive together if she didn’t feel comfortable, but that he would truly appreciate if she was there for him. She was touched by his offer, but she was terrified of what being found out by the press would be like. They tore Kate Middleton apart, there seemed to be a new article about her everyday, and if they were mean to Kate, whom Paulina thought was the embodiment of grace and female beauty, then she knew they were going to be even worse with her, and she was scared shitless over that.

Luckily for her, she already had an engagement to attend to. As it was, Lord Fellowes had done her the honor of requesting that she accompany him to a dinner that was being held by Prime Minister Gordon Brown. It was a highly sought after engagement that only the elite in politics and business were invited to. Lord Fellows, as well as Baron Waldegrave and Baron Brockwell were all invited to the event, they were always invited to events held by Prime Ministers, and they always took their wives as well as a Rhodes Scholar. Paulina had been fortunate enough to have been invited by Lord Fellowes; apparently her behavior towards the Prince coupled with her outstanding marks had been enough to persuade him into thinking she’d be perfect for the event.

And since that was such an important event, she told Harry that she couldn’t go. That his uncle had invited her to a dinner with the Prime Minister, and there was no way she could back out of it. Harry, displeased, nearly offered to arrange a private dinner to introduce her to the Prime Minister, but he knew she would be offended if he proposed such a thing. She wanted to make her own way in the world. She didn’t want people to think that her accomplishments were due to having a royal boyfriend. So he told her that it was alright.

Paulina thought about telling Olivia and Alfred all of that, but instead she decided to tell a lie, “No, we haven’t really talked about that. I think it’s probably still too early for me to be introduced. I'm terrified of the British press.”

“They won’t be able to find fault with you,” commented Olivia, smiling kindly at Paulina. “You’re all loveliness.”

“Hah. You’re sweet, but I'm not. And I know that if they can talk all that shit about Kate, then they’re gonna have a field day with me. So I’d rather hold off on that for as long as I can. Plus, if they find out about me, then I'm not gonna be the only one whose privacy gets invaded, it’ll probably be you guys as well.”

“What would they want with us? We’re not dating the Prince.”

“But you’re best friends with his girlfriend,” reminded Paulina. “And if we hang out, and they’re following me, then they’re gonna be snapping pictures of you lot.”

“I hadn’t even though of that,” whispered Olivia. “Bloody hell . . .”

“My thoughts exactly,” sighed Paulina. “But that’s, not gonna be for awhile so let’s not even think about it.”

But that was easier said than done, each of them was now thinking about how their lives might be impacted by the revelation that Paulina was dating the Prince. Paulina knew there was a good chance that she’d have cameras following her, that people would pester her with questions and not give her a moment’s peace whenever she left her apartment. Olivia was trying to come to terms with the fact that she might be photographed. She didn’t like loads of attention. It made her nervous and anxious, and oh God, she hoped Paulina would be able to be unknown for ages. Alistair on the other hand wasn’t as worried as them, at least not in regards to himself. He’d been photographed before, whenever he went out to high profile events with his parents, but he was worried for them. They weren’t accustomed to that sort of life. And he hoped that when her relationship was found out that the press wouldn’t be cruel.

That topic wasn’t brought up again in the next few days. It was contemplated in silence so that it wouldn’t bring down anyone’s mood. When the weekend finally came to an end, Olivia had to fight tears. She loved spending time with her friends and wished they could just stay there for a week or two, but as much as they wanted to, they couldn’t. Her parents warmly invited them to stay whenever they had another free weekend, and after having thanked them for their kindness and reassured them that they would pay them another visit, Alfred and Paulina climbed into his car and drove off towards London.

Paulina was only going to spend Sunday at Alfred’s flat, and early on Monday morning, he was going to drop her off at Lord Fellowes home in Kensington Palace Gardens. Lord Fellowes had invited her to spend the week with his family. She’d thought it strange, but after talking with Sir John, she learned that it was perfectly normal for the Trustees to invite the Scholar to stay at their home when they were to go out into society together. It was during that time that the Trustees taught the Scholars how to behave in the finest of company and taught them how to enhance their charms. Paulina was nervous about spending a week in the Fellowes residence. He wasn’t just a Trustee anymore, he was the uncle of her boyfriend, he might not have known that, but that’s what he was to her, and she wanted to make him proud, to make him glad that he had chosen her to accompany him instead of one of the others.

“Just so you know, you’ve made things incredibly difficult for me,” spoke Alfred as he drove.

Paulina turned to look at him. “What do you mean I’ve made things difficult for you?”

“I mean that now I'm going to have to start from scratch in order to beat Harry’s declaration of love,” he explained. “All Olivia’s been able to talk about is how romantic that was, and I'm gonna have to be even more romantic.”

“You’re such a strange man, you know that? All you have to do is tell her how you feel and that’ll be enough.”

“Nope, I'm afraid you’re mistaken, quite mistaken indeed.”

“Alfie, trust me, all you have to do is tell her you love her and have a bouquet of lilies and she’ll think that was the most beautiful thing ever.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve been telling you that for months though, but you’ve been set on doing something intricate. Keep it simple.”

“But what about –”

“He only did all that because he fucked up really badly. You haven’t fucked up. Well, you have by waiting so damn long to tell her, but you haven’t done anything wrong. And I seriously think its time you tell her how you feel.” She ran a hand through her dark curls. “You know what you should do?”

“What?”

“I think that since you’re so set on doing something memorable, we should organize a mini holiday to Edinburgh. Remember she mentioned that when she was little her Grandpa used to take her to the Edinburgh festival? He used to take her to the jazz festival, since he was in a band when he was young. I think she’d be really touched by that, and – this is the best part – on the morning that we’re supposed to go, I’ll call you guys and say that I can’t make it because Harry’s having an emergency.”

“There’s no way she can be cross with you if it’s him that has the emergency,” he whispered, a bright grin sweeping across his face. “You’re brilliant! You know that?”

“Of course I know that!” Paulina chuckled. “It’ll be perfect though, you guys can dance to a beautiful slow jazz song and then you can look in her eyes, tell her you love her and – AH! I think I might just go and stalk you guys to see how it goes. It’s going to be so beautiful and then you guys are gonna be together, and all . . . I should stop, right? I know, I know, I'm annoying you, but you know how I get with you two. I love you guys as much as I love Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars, and no that’s not just because of your last name, it’s because you’re a shy fool and well she’s sensible like Elinor, but you guys have waited enough and you need to fucking do something. I'm growing old just waiting for you to tell her how you feel.”

Alfred couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter, the kind of eyes that made wrinkles appear at the corner of his eyes and made his lips draw back until his gums were visible.

“Bloody hell, I reckon you’re as invested in us, as I am.” He told her, his smile still etched on his face.

“I probably am,” she chuckled. “I just can’t help it. If you two saw yourselves through my eyes, you’d be going crazy over the fact that you’re not together yet. It’s madness.”

“It’s not madness,” he muttered. “I'm just being cautious, is all.”

“Well, don’t be, not anymore. There’s been enough caution on your part, now is the time to woo.”

“All the romance in your life has you seeing rainbows everywhere. I believe I’ll have to have a word with his Highness and ask him to calm down.”

“You better not you ass.” She punched him in the shoulder. “I happen to enjoy seeing rainbows. It’s fucking lovely.”

“Of course it is.” He scrunched his nose at her. “So are you excited about spending a week with his uncle?”

“I'm terrified, actually, but I figure that if he invited me, it’s because he likes me as a Scholar and he can stand me as a person. Now all I have to do is make him think that I'm fucking fantastic. That way if Harry and I ever go public, I’ll know that at least two people in his family like me.”

“Who else likes you?”

“William does.”

“Prince William’s keen on you?”

“Yeah, Harry says that William was the one that told him to get his shit together and fight for me. Apparently he thinks I'm a good influence and that I'm a very amiable person.”

“Have you met him, then?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Harry wants to arrange something, but it’s tricky because the cameras are always on William. So we haven’t had any luck yet, but I spoke to him on the phone and he’s really nice. He sounds just like I always imagined a prince to sound like.”

“And what about Harry then?” he asked, teasingly.

“He’s perfectly capable of sounding like a prince. The other day I had him read me sonnets and it was really lovely, but he likes to be laid back. The Henry that you met is the person he likes to be. Does that make sense? What I'm trying to get at is that he wants to be normal, even though he can’t be, not really.”

“What do you mean not really? Before you two started going out he was always stumbling about drunk.”

“He was, but there was always a camera there to take the picture, hence making him not normal.”

“Hmm, well I suppose you’re right. Cameras do take the normality out of life.” He pulled into his apartment complex’s parking garage. “Ugh, Charlotte just has to be here. I was hoping she was still on holiday.”

“Where was she supposed to be?” asked Paulina.

“Greece.” Alfred parked the car. “She was supposed to be gone two weeks, but I suppose something must have gone wrong. Her trips always end up getting cut short, due to some fight breaking out with her mates.”

“That sounds horrible.”

He nodded in agreement. “Personally speaking, I wouldn’t go anywhere with friends that I get into actual confrontation with. It’d be incredibly tedious, but you know Charlotte, she needs drama. It’s her fuel.”

“Hopefully she’s alright, and nothing to be bad happened.”

“I'm fairly certain that the argument revolved around one of them shagging a bloke that one of the others wanted.”

Sure enough, that was what the argument had consisted of. Charlotte had been flirting with a guy, whom she’d really gotten on well with, but her friend, Mallory, had flirted shamelessly with him when Charlotte went to the restroom, and by the time Charlotte got back, Mallory was busy snogging the Italian young man.

Paulina, being unable to walk away from someone who was crying, ended up staying in the living room with Charlotte. She listened to the entire story twice, reassured Charlotte that she hadn’t done anything wrong, and had even fixed her some tea to calm her down. It took awhile, but eventually the crying subsided and Charlotte was calm enough to return to her room.

As usual, Alfred told Paulina that she shouldn’t have bothered. He had grown immune to Charlotte sobbing over who shagged who. In the beginning, he’d cared but after four years of it, he just gave up. They spend the rest of Sunday in his room, eating Chinese take out that they ordered and watching his DVD collection of Doctor Who.

Early the next morning, before the sun had taken its rightful place in the heavens, Paulina and Alfred were busy getting ready for the day ahead of them. Paulina had been told by Lord Fellowes that she was to be at his home at 7 in the morning, because at exactly 7:30, he and his wife took their breakfast, and she, was to join them. It didn’t take long for her to get ready, and since she’d washed her dirty clothes the night before, her large suitcase was ready to be carried out.

The drive to Wilton Crescent wasn’t a particularly long one. Traffic wasn’t horrible, since it was still early, and their conversation kept them occupied. It wasn’t until they turned onto Wilton Place that the conversation ceased. Paulina was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the buildings; the beautiful stuccoed balconies, the stone clad buildings that were five stories high. Wilton Crescent was right out of a period film and she felt incredibly out of place.

“I can’t do this,” she found herself whispering. “I can’t . . .”

“Don’t be daft, of course you can.”

She fiercely shook her head. “I'm a kid from Azusa. We’re not guests at places like this. We’re not! And I thought I was cool with going to a dinner with the Prime Minister and all that, but I'm here and I'm freaking out and doubting myself, and this isn’t a good moment to have a crisis, but I am. Fucking hell!” she cursed.

“No offense Paulin, but you’re dating a bloody prince. A Prime Minister and a Lord are nothing compared to a Prince. Come on, you know you’re being silly. I can see it in your eyes; you’re realizing how daft you just sounded. And for the record you’re not simply a kid from Azusa, you’re a young woman from Azusa who is a Rhodes Scholar. That’s not an easy feat.” He parked in front of the house where she was to reside in for the week. “Now, are you ready or are your nerves going to get the best of you? Because these opportunities don’t come along everyday,” he reminded.

She took in a deep breath and slowly nodded. “What would I do without you, Alfie?”

“Have lengthier crises’,” he joked. “Come on, out we go.”

“You don’t have to. I can carry my luggage.”

“That’s not what gentlemen do,” he declared, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s go then.”

Alfred took the liberty of carrying her luggage to the door. He then offered her words of encouragement, and reminded her that he was only a few minutes away. After sharing a warm hug, he returned to his car and drove off to the firm where he was interning for the summer, leaving her alone to face one of the most important opportunities she’d ever had in her life.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself. “You’re perfectly capable of being charming and amiable, perfectly capable.”

Feeling somewhat better, she lifted her index finger to the doorbell, and rang it, just once. She then ran her hands over the front of her desk, attempting to smooth nonexistent wrinkles. Her wait there wasn’t long, only a few seconds after she rang it, the door was opened by a man dressed in a simple black suit. His graying hair was neatly combed and there was a reserved look on his face, though it wasn’t standoffish it was respectful.

“Miss Balcázar,” he spoke. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant morning.”

“I-I have.” She stuttered at first, initially taken aback by the fact that he knew her name, but then she realized that the household staff had to know her name. “And you, Sir? Has your morning been enjoyable?”

“It has Miss Balcázar, though I must insist that you do not refer to me as Sir. I am Edmund, Lord Fellowes gentleman’s gentleman.” He took great pride in telling her who he was. “Please do come in. No, Miss, I will see to the bags.”

She had half a mind to protest. He was at least twenty-five years older than her and had no business in lugging around her stuff, but then she remembered what Alfred had said about butlers, it was their duty to be of service to their employers and the guest of their employers. It was also rude to tip them. That was insult to their person.

“Sandra,” called out Edmund to a petite young woman in a grey dress. “Please do see that the luggage makes it to Miss Balcázar’s room.”

“Yes, Sir,” she bowed her slightly. “Excuse me, Miss,” she spoke as she walked out to grab the luggage.

“Thank you, Sandra,” said Paulina, feeling incredibly awkward.

The young woman said nothing; a timid smile was the only response she gave to the guest.

“This way, Miss Balcázar,” he began to walk. “Lord Fellowes is waiting for you in the parlour.”

Of course he has a fucking parlor, she thought to herself.

Paulina followed Edmund in silence, paying attention as he entertained her with uninteresting anecdotes that he thought fascinating. When they reached the parlor, he knocked on the door, and after having told Lord Fellowes, of Miss Balcázar’s arrival, he was given leave to open the door.

“Miss Balcázar,” Lord Fellowes greeted her, leaving his seat on the couch that clearly coast as much as the monthly stipend the trust gave her. “Always on time,” he smiled.

“Not always, but I do try.” Paulina smiled, thinking that if she just kept smiling everything would be alright. “I hope I find you well this morning.”

“You do indeed. I was only just having a chat with Baron Brockwell, it turns out Gustav – the Canadian – missed the train and is now running late. Horrible start to his week with Brockwell, but knowing that young man, he’ll do well enough.” He paused for a moment. “And you? Are you well?”

“I'm quite well. Thank you.”

“Was the commute easy enough? I know it can be trying coming from Oxford to London so early.”

“I was in London last night. It was a quick commute.”

“Good, very good,” he said. “Well, do have a seat; my wife has not yet come down. We shall await her arrival and then move into the dining area.”

What followed was twenty-seven minutes of polite conversation. Paulina complimented his home. Alfred had given her phrases to throw out, words that his own mother relished in hearing. Knowing very well that Lord Fellowes would welcome the compliments, she warmly paid them to him, inflating his ego quite a bit. After she paid his home the necessary praises, they spoke of politics. She knew not to let herself run wild with her liberal ideology. She was skilled in the art of avoiding topics that would lead to arguments. There was no point in getting into a heated debate with Lord Fellowes, he was going to introduce her to political society and had to be treated accordingly. She spoke her points eloquently, listened as he discussed his, and then together they examined different aspects of each. Their topics ranged from basic British politics, the political climate of the European Union, and the upcoming election that America was facing. In American politics they both agreed that the right choice for the country was Senator Obama, and dwelled a considerable time on the topic.

When Lady Fellowes entered the parlor, her husband introduced her to the young Scholar that would be staying with them for the week and accompanying them to the ball. Paulina put on her best smile, wanting to get on the good side of Harry’s aunt, the sister of his deceased mother. Throughout lunch, Paulina was attentive and communicative. The questions Lady Fellowes asked her regarding her person and background were all answered with warmth and affection. Questions pertaining to politics were answered to the best of her abilities. There were a few in which she was not quite so knowledgeable on, but she listened intently as the couple explained it to her.

By days end, Paulina was feeling more at ease with being in their home. There was still a lingering doubt that whispered she didn’t belong there. That doubt would undoubtedly remain throughout the duration of her stay, but she was determined not to let it get the best of her. She just had to get through six more days and then she’d go home to her apartment and breathe easy. Just five more days and she’d be in a room with some of the most influential men and women in Europe.