Six weeks in Paris must have been torturous for her boyfriend.
They had certainly been torturous for her, yet she hadn't quite reached the same level of abandonment he had.
Issues with abandonment left undealt were the only explanation Brenda could think of for why her boyfriend had seemed different since her return.
She had first noticed it the night she had told him about Rick, when their playful roll under the sheets had ended with Dylan's unexpected grief.
"Hey," Brenda had said, sitting up half-naked in the bra Dylan hadn't removed. "What's wrong?"
"It was a long six weeks," he had said, granting Brenda a smile she could tell had been glued on.
She knew him quite well, her Dylan, and she knew when his facial expressions didn't match his words.
A scenario that was becoming more frequent.
She had tried to ask Kelly about it, about whether Kelly had seen a change in Dylan.
Kelly had told her the same, that it had been "a long six weeks."
Six weeks couldn't have changed that much, Brenda had thought, until she had caught Kelly's reaction when Brandon had announced his breakup with Brooke.
Was that hope festering in Kelly's eyes?
Did Kelly still have a crush on Brandon?
Brenda didn't think Kelly had. She had thought the crush was a short-lived infatuation stamped out by Brandon at their spring dance.
There existed, however, the possibility that Brenda had been incorrect.
Though she didn't know what six weeks had to do with it, or why Dylan had become a mess during sex.
xx
He had to pull himself together.
He couldn't tear up every time he had Brenda's naked body in his grasp, or Brenda would start to suspect something.
She would have questions, questions with answers he wouldn't give her.
Couldn't give her.
He and Kelly had their own questions, which they believed would remain forever unanswered.
Questions like Kelly had been engaged before, hadn't she? Yes, Dylan had said in their call, to Brandon. No, said Kelly, it wasn't to Brandon.
"There was someone else...I think," said Kelly. "You - you were dating someone. When I was - when I was engaged to that guy."
"Was it Val?" asked Dylan.
"You didn't date Val," said Kelly. "You just hooked up. And then...you were married once, weren't you?"
"Was I?" asked Dylan. "To Brenda?"
"You never married Brenda," said Kelly.
"I won't make that mistake twice," said Dylan.
It had begun: the erasure of their memories.
Memories Dylan decided couldn't have been all that important, or he would have found a way to hold onto them.
Unwilling for his memories of Brenda to slip as quickly as the other memories had, Dylan had attempted to keep much of the beginning of their senior year the same.
He still hosted a barbeque for the gang. He still worked on his bike around Brenda, who took a different approach that resulted in several shared rides down the coast. He still accepted dinner invitations at Casa Walsh, where he thought Jim might possibly be gradually warming back up to him when he volunteered to take lessons from Jim on how to properly grill a steak.
Yet, when Dylan purposely showed up to the SAT review course to sweep Brenda away before she had the chance to meet Beth Nielsen of the sleazy tabloid show Back Story, Dylan realized that there were many instances within their senior year that he didn't want to keep the same.
He didn't want to argue with Brenda over whether he would attend college, when he already knew that he had.
He didn't want to have private conversations with Kelly in the school hallways.
He didn't want to retake his SAT after being accused of cheating, and he certainly didn't want to fight with Brenda over whether he should.
If he didn't, if he eliminated everything with Kelly, eliminated the moments that had humiliated Brenda or the trivial arguments they had had, who knew how many of their old memories would be speedily erased?
How long would he be able to cling to his memories of London before they, too, were ripped away?
"What did you get for section K?"
Dylan had nearly missed the question.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Section K." Brenda set down her pencil, which clattered against the small glass table Brenda had convinced Dylan to buy from a yard sale. "You said you'd help me with our poetry assignment."
They were curled up on the armchair of the Sanders' guest house, which had become Dylan's new home.
He had debated on whether to put the bungalow on the market, until he had mulled over Brenda breaking up with him in his kitchen and the time he had held a gun on Brandon.
Not that Brandon hadn't been moronic himself, breaking into a man's house for a blasted puzzle picture.
"Sorry, Bren," said Dylan. "I was, er, distracted."
"You seem distracted a lot lately," said Brenda. "Is this because of Rick?"
"No," said Dylan. "No, it has nothing to do with the tour guide."
He didn't care if he sounded like a giant snob.
Rick didn't deserve a name.
"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Brenda. "Maybe I can help."
God, yes, he wanted to talk about it. Wanted to tell Brenda everything, starting with the moment he had become sucked in by the news report to the moment he had picked her up at the airport.
Wanted to tell her what it had taken to bring her back to him.
But he couldn't.
"It's my dad," said Dylan in a half-truth. "His attorneys think they might be able to get him out on bail."
"Dylan, that's great!" said Brenda.
Except that Jack McKay wasn't supposed to be released on bail yet, not until Thanksgiving.
It wasn't Thanksgiving.
It had just barely hit late September.
Jack's release date couldn't be moved up, because it would surely move everything else up.
Including Dylan's plan to escort Brenda to the Pigskin Prom before he had to break the news that would decimate both his heart and hers.
"Is it great?" asked Dylan, devoid of inflection.
"I thought you had a nice visit at Christmas," said Brenda.
"We did, but then I lied in his character letter," said Dylan. "I made him out to be a better father than he's ever been to give the courts a reason to grant him bail."
"And they are," said Brenda. "It's what you wanted."
"Yeah, I guess," said Dylan. "Alright," he grabbed the book from Brenda, "let's see why you're having such a hard time with Browning."
"It's poetry in general," said Brenda. "I'm not cut out for it."
"If you can understand Shakespeare, which you can, then you can understand Browning."
"They aren't mutually exclusive," said Brenda.
Nevertheless, she permitted Dylan to talk her through the poem and then the assignment.
They often spent their nights like that; helping each other with their homework as they snagged kisses in-between subjects.
Dylan had never thought he would be so glad for the existence of homework.
"Annie asked me if I'd considered joining the cheerleading squad," said Brenda. "Would you hate it? Dating a cheerleader?"
There was that name again.
Annie.
The name had begun following Dylan around, for reasons he knew not.
There had been Annie, the waitress at the new restaurant he had stopped into with Brenda. Annie, the new girl at school who was constantly trying - and failing - to catch Steve's eye. Annie, the woman Nat had mentioned as his friendly dentist.
Was Annie supposed to mean something?
He couldn't think of any Annie he had known previously, certainly not one that would have known him and Brenda both.
Perhaps Annie would be one of Brenda's first starring roles.
"I'd only hate it if you were interested in cheerleading but turned it down because you thought I'd hate it," said Dylan.
The answer had made more sense in his head.
"I've thought about it," said Brenda. "Cheerleading. Dance squad. Taking ice-skating back up, which I haven't done since we left Minnesota. But what I really want to do is audition, for the spring play."
"Why not the Christmas play?" asked Dylan.
Between their fall productions and spring productions known to bring about talent scouts from high-ranked universities, the West Beverly drama department put on a smaller, annual Christmas play, with all proceeds from the play benefiting Alvarado Street Elementary School.
"You've already signed up to help decorate for the Pigskin Prom so that you could help raise funds for the school's toy drive," said Dylan. "You might as well try out for the Christmas play, too."
"I don't think I'm ready," said Brenda. "I can get ready for the spring audition, but to audition now? Dylan, that's really pushing it."
"Not if you want that theatre career you talked about when you came home from Paris," said Dylan.
"I'll think about it," said Brenda. "Have you noticed anything different about Kelly?" She abruptly changed topics.
"Kelly?" asked Dylan. He tried to watch the shift in his voice, the tone that would tell Brenda more than Dylan wanted her to know.
"I think she's crushing on Brandon again," said Brenda.
"What makes you think that?" asked Dylan.
"You must've seen how ecstatic she was when Brandon told us he broke up with Brooke. Kel didn't bother to hide it."
"Bran did tell us she'd been racist toward Henry and anti-Semitic toward Andrea," Dylan pointed out. "Hardly the kind of girl Kelly would want as part of our group."
"Still," said Brenda. "If Kel doesn't get a date for the Pigskin Prom, I might hint at Brandon to take her."
"Brandon and Kelly," said Dylan, acting like the thought had never occurred to him. "That'd be an interesting pairing, alright."
"People could say the same about us," said Brenda.
"I'll interest you day and night, babe," said Dylan, setting their homework aside for another whirl in the sheets.
Everything was going well.
Too well.
Even the SAT had gone well.
It therefore hardly surprised Dylan when Donna turned up at his door.
At least, after she had given him a reason for why she was there.
"I'd like to know why my boyfriend is utterly convinced that this is Brenda's earring," said Donna, holding up the earring in question, "when I was with Kel the day she bought them. And when you answer that, I would further like to know why Steve found it in your cabana."
Shit.
He didn't have to tell Donna.
He could see it on her face.
"You slept with Kelly," said Donna flatly.
"No!" said Dylan. "No, I didn't."
"So Kel just, what, dropped this earring around you and you just decided to carry it into your cabana like some kind of stalker?" asked Donna.
"Not quite." Dylan took a breath that shredded his ribcage. "Kelly and I didn't sleep together," he said again. "Not like that," he clarified, recalling the night they had shared a sleeping bag on the beach.
"But you did other things," said Donna.
"But we did - we did other things," said Dylan.
He held his smarting cheek from where Donna had whacked him.
"How could you hurt Brenda like this!" Donna yelled. "How could you put me in this position? Kelly's my best friend. She's been my best friend for forever, but; but Bren's my best friend, too!"
"I'm going to tell Bren," said Dylan. "I swear I will."
"When?" Donna snapped.
"After the Pigskin Prom," said Dylan. "I don't want it ruined for her, Donna. She's put a lot of work into it."
"Oh sure, now you care about Bren's feelings," said Donna. "Where was that when you were kissing Brenda's best friend in your cabana?"
Dylan's silence confirmed Donna's guess.
"You did kiss Kelly," she said.
"I - I did," said Dylan. "A - a couple of times, but it's - it's never happening again."
"And you thought what, that you could get away with it?" asked Donna. "That Brenda would never have to find out?"
Dylan could have told Donna about David's fling with Nikki Witt, but he kept his mouth shut.
He had spent too many years trying to drag others down to the concrete bottom with him.
He wouldn't do that to David.
"I can't lose her, Donna," he said. "Not again," Dylan couldn't stop himself from adding.
"You didn't cheat on her the last time she broke up with you," said Donna.
Dylan went with it.
"She knows I cheated on her," he said.
"But she doesn't know it was with Kelly," Donna retorted. "And that's not something I can keep from Bren, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."
"Just - just give me 'til the dance," Dylan pleaded. "If I - if I haven't told Bren by Halloween, then you can tell her."
"I don't want to tell her," said Donna, "but I won't be much of a friend if I don't."
She reluctantly agreed to Dylan's request, and Dylan could hear the days ticking away.
If Donna knew, it was only a matter of time until Brandon knew.
And if Brandon found out, it wouldn't be long before Brenda did.
"Why has Don been avoiding you?" asked Brenda, whispering during the art class she shared with Dylan.
"She's been avoiding me?" asked Dylan.
"She was in our Spanish class," said Brenda. "Steve said Donna switched into his. I don't think Don did it because of me."
Dylan didn't have a response for Brenda, not one that wouldn't be a total lie.
"She could be avoiding any one of our classmates," said Dylan, which could have been true.
He was saved from further clarification by the art teacher's shushing of overly talkative students.
Donna and David had found a different lunch spot in the quad, leading to more questions from the gang.
"I think they're just trying to get Susie Scanlon to open up," said Brenda. "She'd be less willing to if she's surrounded by all of us."
The others seemed satisfied with that.
"Speaking of Susie Scanlon," said Andrea, tucking away the notebook she had been working away in, "I wanted to talk to you about her, Bren. I have some concerns about your freshman buddy that I'd like to get your opinion on."
"Sure," said Brenda. "Come over after school."
"To my place," said Dylan. "You can both come to my place."
"More like mine," said Steve. "Dylan's just renting a spot of land."
Nerves infiltrated Dylan every time he saw Brandon speak with Donna.
"I just wanted to check how she was," Brandon told his sister. "She's been so distant lately."
"I know," said Brenda. "I hope she's not getting too wrapped up with the Scanlons. Donna isn't equipped to handle that."
"Handle what?" asked Dylan, but he soon found out through Andrea's and Brenda's hushed discussion.
He found Brenda's packet of cigarettes, too, which he hid out of Brenda's reach.
He hadn't asked her to quit, nor did he intend to, but he had made a habit of making Brenda's cigarettes difficult for her to find.
"I - I have to go." Brenda tore through the hallway, almost catching Dylan in the act. "Donna just called."
"Donna called here?" asked Dylan.
"Brandon told her where I was," said Brenda. "She told me - she told me; oh, I have to go!"
Brenda grabbed at her leather jacket without checking for her missing cigarettes.
If she was that upset, then Dylan thought this had to be it.
Donna had to have told her.
It was done.
He and Brenda were over, for now.
"Wait, Bren -" He reached out for her arm, but only grasped air.
He darted outside, prepared to ride his bike through the forecasted hailstorm, but he couldn't be sure of which direction Brenda had gone.
One way would take him towards Donna's; the other, towards Casa Walsh.
"Do you know which way Bren headed?" he asked Andrea as she also took her leave. "Did she go to her place, or Donna's?"
"Neither, I think," said Andrea.
Andrea was lacking information herself, which left Dylan feeling hollow.
His stomach convulsions kicked off, resulting in him spending a good chunk of the night dry heaving into his toilet bowl.
In the morning, when Brenda hadn't called to say she hated him, he decided to try to pick her up for school.
He brought the bike, convinced she would easily be enticed by the thought of a ride.
But Brenda wasn't at Casa Walsh.
She had spent the night at Donna's.
If she had been allowed by Jim to slumber at Donna's, on a school night, then Jim must have been informed of the reason.
Yet, Jim gave no indication that he hated Dylan, either.
Nor did Brandon.
It took until the break between the second and third periods to learn that Brenda had been called by Donna after Donna had learnt of David's summer fling with Nikki.
"I lost the greatest thing that ever happened to me," David moaned into his can of Tab. "I'm such an idiot."
"Why'd you do it, man?" asked Brandon. "I thought you loved Donna."
"I do love Donna," said David. "I - I can't explain it, Brandon, mostly because I don't have any explanations to give. Donna was gone and, and Nikki was cool. That's it." He hung his head. "That's all I got."
"I'm more hung up on why chicks like Donna and Nikki would be interested in you when I can't get any," said Steve.
"Hey, Big Guy," said Brandon, "what would you tell a guy if his best friend became interested in his ex?"
"I'd probably tell him that's no best friend," said Steve, "and caution him of the butcher knife thrust into his back. Why?"
"No reason," said Brandon.
Donna cornered Dylan at the lockers.
"I don't want to keep your secret anymore," she told him. "You have to tell Brenda. You said you would, so now you have to."
"Tell Brenda what?"
Dylan cringed, quickly concealing his cringe as he turned to see Brandon watching them intently.
"Dylan has a secret," said Donna.
"A secret?" asked Brandon. "What kind of secret?"
"It's," Dylan tried to reach for the words that evaded him. "It's staying a secret," he said, "until after the dance."
He tacked on the emphasis in his voice, to remind Donna that he would follow through on what he had told her.
"Brenda doesn't like secrets," said Brandon. "What if you tell me what it is, and then I can help you tell her?"
"It's a," Dylan's chest began to ache, "it's a pretty big secret. One your sister needs to hear from me."
"Now you have me curious," said Brandon.
"If you could build the perfect haunted house for Brenda," said Dylan, "what would you put in it?"
"Chuck E. Cheese," said Brandon, with little hesitation.
"Chuck E. Cheese?" asked Dylan.
"Furry mascots have always terrified her," said Brandon.
"Interesting factoid," said Dylan.
"Is that your secret?" asked Brandon. "You're building Brenda a haunted house?"
That was one way to look at it, Dylan thought.
But it wasn't Brenda's haunted house that he had built.
It was his.
He was smack-dab in the middle of what had once been the worst mistake of his life, with the details changing daily to prevent him from plotting his next move.
What change had he made that had gotten Donna involved when she had been such a determined Switzerland the last time?
Time dragged on. More changes stacked up.
The school administrations of both West Beverly and Shaw had decided to delay the football game between the schools.
With the dance pushed back until the week before Halloween, Dylan had the chance to spend his birthday with Brenda.
If only they would be able to spend her birthday together, he thought.
"Brandon asked Nikki Witt to the dance," said Brenda, sliding her fingers over Dylan's hair.
There had been a cake with candles at the Pit, but what Dylan had truly wanted was time alone with Brenda, and he had that.
"Nikki is Brandon's date to the dance?" asked Dylan. "Not sure that'll go over well with Donna."
"Then Don should be glad Nikki said she'll be in San Francisco," said Brenda.
Dylan had been given so many opportunities alone to tell Brenda, but he still couldn't do it.
He almost wanted Kelly to be the one to tell Brenda, but he knew that would be the coward's way out.
He wouldn't be a coward, not this time.
"Donna knows," said Kelly.
They were stuck in trigonometry, with Dylan wishing to be anywhere but there.
"I know she knows," he said. "She said I have to tell Brenda."
"Call up your mother and ask her for the coin," said Kelly. "We can try another redo, one where neither of us ever have to tell Bren because there wouldn't be anything to tell."
"I can't just ask Iris for a coin," said Dylan. "I'd have to explain to her how I know about it, and that would open up a whole thing where she'd scold me for trying to erase my past twice. Once, she'd obviously be okay with once, but twice? We can't do it twice, Kel."
"We're both gonna lose Bren again," said Kelly, downhearted.
"We will," said Dylan, equally as upset over the inevitable, "but we'll both get her back."
His words came out much more confidently than he felt, particularly since he didn't have the tiniest inkling of when he would get Brenda back.
Or, worse still, if he would at all.
The eve of the Pigskin Prom dawned and with it, another round of Dylan's dry heaving.
He had wanted to pick Brenda up from her house, the way he had the night of their spring dance.
The night Brenda had allowed Dylan in in a way she never had with anyone.
But, as the head of the Pigskin Prom decorating committee, Brenda's presence had been required at the school earlier than Dylan could arrive and, as such, he could only meet her there.
Brandon arrived, with Donna and Andrea in tow.
Steve came next, ignoring the date he had secured at the last possible minute to scan the gymnasium.
"Where's Kelly?" he asked. "A dance without Kelly Taylor isn't really a dance at all."
"That's a good question," said Brenda. "Where is Kel? She said she would make an appearance after she met with her father at Spago."
"Do you think he'll actually show up?" asked Donna.
"I'd like to think so," said Brenda, "but considering how many times he's cancelled on her in the time I've known her alone, I don't think he will. Maybe she isn't at Spago. Where else would she be?"
Donna eyed Dylan, as if he would know.
Dylan kept his face blank, hoping that Donna couldn't pick up on on the fact that, if history had repeated, Dylan did indeed know the whereabouts of what would be a doubly upset Kelly Taylor.
Doubly upset, because Bill Taylor would have had a second chance to meet Kelly at Spago and he would have disappointed her yet again.
"I think I know," said Brandon. "I'll be back soon," he told Brenda with a slight kiss to her cheek. "Ah, Jordan," he called out to Andrea's date, "look out for my sister, will ya?"
"I can do that," said Dylan.
"Sure you can," Donna scoffed.
"Okay." Brenda turned in Dylan's arms as they watched Donna hurry away to talk with the students from Shaw. "What is going on with you and Donna?" she asked. "I thought you two got along. You both seemed glad to see each other at the end of the summer."
"I knew about Nikki," said Dylan, thankful that the first answer he had thought of was a true one.
"You knew about Nikki and you didn't tell her?" asked Brenda.
"Silver assured me he'd break it off," said Dylan.
"He still did it," said Brenda. "You should've told Donna."
"Yeah, I should've," said Dylan.
Brenda became distracted by a fast-paced dance number, then a dance between her and Dylan that moved much more slowly in tempo.
"Brenda," said Dylan as his peripheral vision showed Brandon leading Kelly into the dance, "I love you. No matter what happens between us, you have to know that, okay? I never thought I could love anyone at all, and then you came along and shook up my world until I had no choice but to fall in love with you. And I am, Bren. The love I have for you is now deeply embedded, as if being in love with you has become a large part of my essence."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Brenda, confused. "Did something happen? Are you breaking up with me?" she asked scratchily.
"No," said Dylan firmly. "I just need to make sure you know this."
Before you break up with me, he mentally added.
Which you will.
As soon as I tell you.
Which he would.
Though spinning Brenda through a few more dance numbers first surely couldn't hurt.
His mind wandered, settling on the Brenda in Cherbourg and wondering if she was attending dances of her own.
If she was attending them with the other Dylan McKay, who would evidently lose her in the early twentieth century just as Dylan was about to lose her in the last decade of that same century.
Again.
xx
For someone who possessed so little, it had certainly taken her some time to recall the location of the hovel where she had stashed her old wardrobe.
The garish, fur-lined corset that had once been part of her daily uniform would, she was sure, help her brother with his quest to save Brenda Walshford from her fiancé.
If Richard had demons, Valerie knew her ladies would have the answers.
She had, after all, once been the feature in Vitor Meloon's stage show, a show that had initially seemed innocent until Valerie learnt of what went down when the crowds went home and a select few remained.
The Prestigious Few, Vitor had labelled them, telling Valerie that securing the eye of a man from the Prestigious Few would ensure Valerie a future of endless wealth.
She had once believed it, too, until one of the Prestigious Few had accused Valerie of failing to deliver and Vitor had been enlisted to ensure the man had been given his due.
Valerie shuddered the closer she got to her hellscape.
The faster she pulled this off, she thought, the faster she could meet with David as they had arranged.
David was unaware of her plan. Valerie thought it better that way.
She had come to immensely enjoy the company of David Silverthorne.
But she would not, under any circumstances, permit David to know the details of her sordid past.
David Silverthorne was a gentleman.
Gentlemen did not fall in love with former whores.
Less gentle men did use whores, and Valerie thought that Richard Worthington had certainly been a less gentle man.
For she thought she had recalled that Richard Worthington was one of the Prestigious Few.
Moreover, the closest companion to the one who had nearly cost Valerie her life.
"Valerie McKay, as I live and breathe," said the thick, Slovenian accent of Valerie's dearest friend amongst the ladies, Seraphina. "We were most disheartened to hear of your brother's demise."
"My brother's demise?" asked Valerie. "My brother has not encountered a demise of any sort, I assure you."
"Vitor told us he had," said Seraphina.
"That is not surprising," said Valerie. "Sera, I had rather hoped you could do for me a small favor."
"Ask away, and it shall be done," said Seraphina.
She was to watch the area, and report back to Valerie whether a man had been seen matching the description of Richard Worthington.
If such a man was seen, Seraphina was to surreptitiously follow him, listen to his conversations, and relay each one to Valerie.
Valerie laid down the letter, which she was certain another of the ladies had helped Seraphina pen.
Sera wasn't the most educated of ladies, not because she couldn't have been, but because she had chosen to be.
She had left the lap of splendor in the vineyards of Slovenia for a life of difficulty in the poorest area of Cherbourg, a decision Valerie had thought foolish and never attempted to understand until she had begun to hope that Brenda Walshford would choose to do the same.
Particularly if it separated her from distrustful men and their droning on about the perils of politics, without the intent to change anything about those politics.
"Richard Worthington is indeed in the company of Vitor," Valerie told Dylan.
"Valerie, I warned you to leave Vitor uninvolved," said Dylan. "You assured me you would communicate with the ladies without Vitor's knowledge."
"I did," said Valerie. "He is unaware that the ladies and I are in contact. Do you not want me to read further?"
"Go on ahead," said Dylan. "But I do not think merely pointing out the tawdry company Worthington surrounds himself with will be enough to entice Brenda to call off this ridiculous farce of an engagement."
"It is a 'ridiculous farce of an engagement' now, is it?" asked Valerie, amused. "Brother, you speak as would a man of ardor."
"Must I tell you yet again that I am not carrying romantic notions towards Brenda Walshford?" said Dylan, considerably more frustrated than he should have been were he telling Valerie the truth.
"It is not too late to ask her to join you aboard the ship," said Valerie. "I would be willing to provide Brenda with my own ticket, if it would successfully separate her from Richard."
"You must spend less time dabbling in fantasy," said Dylan. "I simply believe Brenda entering into matrimony with a man like Worthington would be an egregious error on her part. That is all. I do not need to possess any sort of romantic notion to believe she can do far better than Worthington. Brenda, it should be noted, is a member of nobility. Worthington is not. She is marrying beneath her."
"I have never known you to be a snob, nor care about the hierarchy of society in this way," said Valerie. "It upsets you not that Brenda is 'marrying beneath her,' as you said, but rather that it is Richard she is marrying."
"I do not trust the man. I certainly do not trust him with her."
"There is no harm in admitting that you have developed an infatuation for Brenda."
"I have not, and we will not speak of this again. Worthington himself possesses a mistrust for Brenda, and no good can come out of a man who does not trust his fiancée. I am looking out for Brenda, as she refuses to look out for herself in the false belief that she is helping Brandon. I am looking out for her, as I have told Brandon I will do. It is nothing more than that."
"He who continues to protest is only denying the truth," said Valerie, earning Dylan's stubborn silence for the rest of the afternoon.
The notes from Seraphina continued to come and, with each note, Valerie began to develop a concern for Brenda herself.
"There is to be a dance," she told David. "A costume ball. I would like for you to attend."
"I would be glad to escort you to a costume ball," said David. "If you require a new dress, we will surely find you one in the possessions of my mother."
"You will not be escorting me," said Valerie. "You are to escort Brenda."
"Brenda?" asked David. "I am to escort Brenda, who is scarcely to be seen these days as she spends all of her time with Richard?"
"That is why you will be escorting Brenda. I will ensure Dylan's presence. He will be masked. You must ensure Richard is there, too, with a face covered in the same mask."
"Whatever for?" asked David.
"They are of similar build. Brenda will be drawn towards Dylan, but she will believe him to be Richard. That will give them time alone, and time enough for us to enact the second part of the plan."
That plan hinged solely on the acting abilities of Seraphina, who assured Valerie that she would play her part well.
Seraphina would get Richard alone, and proceed to seduce him until he had spilled all of his secrets.
All of them, including his true intentions for marrying Brenda Walshford.
"I am not attending a dance," said Dylan, "and I am certainly not attending one in a mask."
"I thought you may say that," said Valerie. "David has informed me that he expects Brenda may be there. Richard, too."
"Then I must attend," said Dylan, "only to ensure that son of a bitch does not harm her."
"It is our last chance," said Valerie. "We must pull it off, for come Wednesday -"
"Come Wednesday, we sail," said Dylan. "And I will no longer have the opportunity to ensure Brenda's safety."
Despite the plan, David still insisted on escorting Valerie.
"Nowhere is it written that I cannot escort two women to a dance," he said, "and I am certain that my mother's dress will suit you perfectly. I have already secured Father's permission to gift you it."
It was the loveliest dress Valerie had ever laid eyes on; ethereal, as if it had been crafted from the threads of the moon.
"It is beautiful," she breathed. "I cannot possibly wear this."
"Nonsense," said David. "I will leave to pick up Brenda. We will soon return for you, and I expect to see you in this dress when we do. It is, as you said, far too beautiful to continue sitting in Mother's trunk, collecting dust and maggots. Mother would want it in the hands of one who can give this dress another night out worthy of such a dress, the way she used to when she and Father would attend societal dances of their own."
Valerie feared simply slipping the dress on would tear the fabric.
Up until that moment, the finest clothing she had worn had been in the employ of Vitor.
Never had she worn anything as fine as this.
She tried to do something different with her hair, to give it more of a refined style to accompany a dress of such grandeur.
Few flowers had bloomed outside as the earth continued to wait for spring, but Valerie did locate a couple to weave into her updo.
She hoped it was a decent updo, as she rarely wore her hair up in any style and she couldn't get the stray hairs to lay flat.
She owned no cosmetics, nor the materials required for a homemade batch of cosmetics.
"Valerie McKay? Is that you? I hardly recognized you."
Valerie smiled at Brenda.
"Is it too much?" she asked, twirling her skirts. "I feel it is too much. People may believe I have lifted it from the shops."
"David is confident that his mother would have never wanted such beauty to be wasted," said Brenda, "and he was correct to think that this dress belongs on you. Would you like to make up your face? I have brought along some of the newest cosmetics imported from America."
Valerie sat perfectly still as Brenda added a light layer of cosmetics.
"There." Brenda clicked her case shut. "Now, you are ready."
Brenda appeared quite divine herself, but Brenda waved off the compliment when Valerie attempted to deliver it.
They walked in on the arms of David, to a scene similar to those Valerie had performed in, but had never partaken in herself.
"I thank you, David," said Brenda, kissing the air around both of his cheeks. "I must find Richard."
Despite her appearance that outshone anyone there, Brenda's petite stature caused her to disappear into the crowd.
"Is Richard aware Brenda is here?" asked Valerie.
"Brenda believes he is aware," said David.
"I am here." Dylan's voice sounded directly behind Valerie's ear. "What would you have me do?"
"Your task is to locate Brenda before she locates Richard," said Valerie. "You must not let Brenda know it is you."
"And you claim I am the one who spends too much time with my novels," Dylan muttered, shaking his head as he slipped on his mask.
"Now?" asked David.
"Now, we wait," said Valerie. "There is a small alcove near to where Richard will be, where we can overhear his conversation with Sera without his knowledge. If you wish to."
David asked Valerie for directions, then took her arm as he practically dragged her to the alcove.
They hunched down, blending into the shadows.
"Seraphina," said Richard's muffled voice, "dear Seraphina, we meet again."
"I do not wish to speak with you," said Seraphina.
"Have I done something to offend you?" asked Richard.
"You are betrothed. I do not have dalliances with men who are betrothed."
"It was necessary," said Richard. "My fiancée comes from a great line of wealth."
"As do you."
"Hers is greater. Her connections are tucked away in higher places than my family could ever hope to acquire on our own, and it has been my parents' greatest wish that I marry into nobility."
"The rumors say that she will be joining you in America."
"Yes," said Richard, "but it shall not be for long."
"Whatever do you mean?" asked Seraphina.
David and Valerie both leant closer, until their faces were within inches of each other's.
"Brenda will be my wife," said Richard, "only for a little while."
The icy tongs of dread sliced through Valerie's stomach.
"How can you be certain?" asked Seraphina.
"Accidents occur," said Richard, in a tone as neutral as if he had been questioning the soup du jour in an upscale Parisian street café.
David sat back, appearing as queasy as Valerie felt.
"Accidents occur," he whispered. "What does he mean by 'accidents occur?"
"It means our fears have been confirmed," said Valerie, "and with any luck, Brenda has now heard for herself the kind of man Richard Worthington truly is."
She had not.
Brenda was nowhere in the vicinity.
"She was meant to stay with you," Valerie told Dylan in a hushed tone, when everything within her wanted to scream. "All you had to do was twirl Brenda within earshot of Richard, and she would have heard the precise details that we did."
"Details?" asked Dylan. "What details?"
"Accidents occur," said David, who had taken the appearance of one unexpectedly doused in white paint since the moment he had heard the phrase exit from his cousin's cruel lips.
"Accidents occur?" Dylan growled. "Accidents occur?"
Valerie relayed the full conversation.
"We must find Brenda before he does," said Valerie. "Why did she leave?"
"Evidently, when a woman discovers the man she has been purposely avoiding is the man who sneaks multiple dances with her in a single night in the same mask she knows to be adorned on her fiancé, that woman is none too pleased," said Dylan. "You could have at least warned me that Worthington and I were dressed similarly. I had thought I was meant to keep my identity secretive from Brenda, not that she would believe me to be Worthington."
"That would have hindered the plan," said Valerie.
"Brandon will believe me when I tell him of Richard's words," said David, "but Brenda will not."
"We cannot tell Brandon," said Valerie. "Were he to tell Brenda, she may become defensive, and were she to know it was you who told Brandon, then both you and he would be expelled from Brenda's life."
"Which would isolate her with Richard," said Dylan, "which is precisely what he wants. That must be why he has persuaded the Earl to permit Brenda to move to America. The Earl, greedy bastard that he is, will not question any plan of Richard's if it can be beneficial for the Earl."
"His daughter's demise would be beneficial?" asked Valerie. "What kind of a man is Jameson Walshford to believe such atrocity?"
"The worst kind," said Dylan, "and he has assured his daughter will wed the worst kind, as well."
"Then if I cannot tell Brenda, and I must not tell Brandon, what can I do?" asked David.
"You must find another way to expose Richard to her," said Valerie, "and you must hurry, before it is too late."
"And our Brenda is married to a madman in the costume of a gentleman," said Dylan morosely.
It was a simple word, the word "our," and yet, with that one simple word, Valerie had been proven correct.
Dylan McKay was indeed infatuated with Brenda Walshford, whether he was willing to admit it or not.
When both of their journeys to America approached.
What a right mess, Valerie thought, thankful that she, at least, could prevent herself from falling in love.
She had many a time before, despite the numerous men who had convinced themselves - and tried to convince her - that she would fall in love with them.
She became enamored, or put on a good show of it. She used men for her personal gain.
She didn't fall in love.
She wouldn't.
She couldn't, certainly not with David Silverthorne.
She simply had to ignore that her heart stirred up a fuss every time David stood nearby.
She further had to ignore the bubbling emotions that stemmed from the knowledge that he had trusted her with his dear, departed mother's possessions; first the coin, and then the dress.
That, perhaps, David Silverthorne was developing an infatuation of his own.
Valerie didn't dare to think it.
Rags to riches only happened in fairytales.
Her life had never been a fairytale, and she wasn't sure she wanted it to be.
She could not, however, deny that David was a perfect specimen of a man whose smile rocketed through Valerie's heart.
As she believed Brenda's smile rocketed through Dylan's.
-x
Sources: Google and Google Images.
Nicked by Dylan but initially said by Steve, "A dance without Kelly Taylor really isn't a dance at all," tweaked slightly to be the way Dylan said it, is from the tenth episode of season three, "Home and Away."
Sue Scanlon is now Susie Scanlon, because reasons.
Thanks a million! x