the concept of “Siberia,” that back area of a New York restaurant room to which are relegated the unchic, the unfamous, and the requesters of doggie-bags. For their second date, D’Arcy and Grace went to the Stork Club, where, by coincidence, the owner, Sherman Billingsley, treated them with equal solicitousness. “I think she was impressed,” remembers D’Arcy.
Hailed as “the new Valentino” when he made his film debut in 1928 in the Garden of Allah, D’Arcy was a well-liked figure in café society. In a 1940s photograph of him nightclubbing with his friend Errol Flynn, it is difficult to tell which man is which. Both have the same dark, slicked-back hair and thin pencil mustache— and both were driven by the same consuming interest in life. “Girls were my hobby,” says D’Arcy frankly today. “But I never, never went to bed with a girl unless she wanted to. I’d say, ‘Look, darling, if you want to—fine. If you don’t want to—that’s fine, too.’”
D’Arcy’s “dahling” was articulated in a husky and seductive French accent. He had been born in Egypt of French parentage, and he was in his mid-thirties when he met Grace Kelly. He was almost twice Grace’s age, and—not for the last time—she found the appeal of an older man with a French accent quite irresistible.
“We were going home in a taxi,” remembers D’Arcy. “I had known her about ten days, and we had been out several times. She was a nice date, a shy girl from a good background. She was always shy, that’s why I liked her so much. She dressed very conservatively and very nicely. She didn’t dress as the sort of girl that would jump into bed with you.”
Just the same, D’Arcy thought that he might try a gentle approach. He reached out and touched Grace on the knee in a casual fashion. He was amazed at the response. “She just jumped into my arms,” he remembers. “I could not believe it. She was the very opposite of how she seemed.”
There was no need for D’Arcy to deliver his “if you want to, if you don’t want to,” routine. Grace happily came up to his apartment at 140 East Fifty-third Street and spent the night with him.
It was the first of several nights of passion that, nearly half a century later, still leave Alex D’Arcy awed and respectful at the appetites and energy of his new young friend. “She was a very, very, very sexual girl,” he remembers, “very warm indeed as far as sex was concerned. You would touch her once, and she would go through the ceiling. It was very obvious she was not a virgin. She was certainly experienced.”
Looked at in one way, Grace seemed quite a simple girl to D’Arcy. Her sexual needs were so straightforward and direct. But when he reflected on the difference between the tigress that he went to bed with, and the proper and demure girl that he escorted in every other context, he came to feel that part of Grace Kelly must be very complicated indeed. “Basically, she was shy,” he remembers. “But physically, she was not shy. With sex, everything would come out. Maybe it was something she was hiding. She was like a different person.”
Grace’s living arrangements in the Barbizon were not an obstacle to her relationship with D’Arcy. The hotel did a good job keeping men out of the bedrooms, but had no system of checking whether their lady guests actually spent the night in their own beds.
Grace also went on seeing her fellow drama student, Herbie Miller, who did not realize the extent to which his girlfriend was two-timing him. “There were these guys who would call for her,” Miller remembers today. “I would be thinking that I’m the only love in her life, and some stud would arrive at school. So I’d ask her, ‘Who’s that guy?’ and she’d say, ‘Just some guy I know. He’s crazy about me.’ She would laugh about it and brush it off, like she was just sort of doing the guy a favor. I never gave it too much thought. I was very naive, I
Hailed as “the new Valentino” when he made his film debut in 1928 in the Garden of Allah, D’Arcy was a well-liked figure in café society. In a 1940s photograph of him nightclubbing with his friend Errol Flynn, it is difficult to tell which man is which. Both have the same dark, slicked-back hair and thin pencil mustache— and both were driven by the same consuming interest in life. “Girls were my hobby,” says D’Arcy frankly today. “But I never, never went to bed with a girl unless she wanted to. I’d say, ‘Look, darling, if you want to—fine. If you don’t want to—that’s fine, too.’”
D’Arcy’s “dahling” was articulated in a husky and seductive French accent. He had been born in Egypt of French parentage, and he was in his mid-thirties when he met Grace Kelly. He was almost twice Grace’s age, and—not for the last time—she found the appeal of an older man with a French accent quite irresistible.
“We were going home in a taxi,” remembers D’Arcy. “I had known her about ten days, and we had been out several times. She was a nice date, a shy girl from a good background. She was always shy, that’s why I liked her so much. She dressed very conservatively and very nicely. She didn’t dress as the sort of girl that would jump into bed with you.”
Just the same, D’Arcy thought that he might try a gentle approach. He reached out and touched Grace on the knee in a casual fashion. He was amazed at the response. “She just jumped into my arms,” he remembers. “I could not believe it. She was the very opposite of how she seemed.”
There was no need for D’Arcy to deliver his “if you want to, if you don’t want to,” routine. Grace happily came up to his apartment at 140 East Fifty-third Street and spent the night with him.
It was the first of several nights of passion that, nearly half a century later, still leave Alex D’Arcy awed and respectful at the appetites and energy of his new young friend. “She was a very, very, very sexual girl,” he remembers, “very warm indeed as far as sex was concerned. You would touch her once, and she would go through the ceiling. It was very obvious she was not a virgin. She was certainly experienced.”
Looked at in one way, Grace seemed quite a simple girl to D’Arcy. Her sexual needs were so straightforward and direct. But when he reflected on the difference between the tigress that he went to bed with, and the proper and demure girl that he escorted in every other context, he came to feel that part of Grace Kelly must be very complicated indeed. “Basically, she was shy,” he remembers. “But physically, she was not shy. With sex, everything would come out. Maybe it was something she was hiding. She was like a different person.”
Grace’s living arrangements in the Barbizon were not an obstacle to her relationship with D’Arcy. The hotel did a good job keeping men out of the bedrooms, but had no system of checking whether their lady guests actually spent the night in their own beds.
Grace also went on seeing her fellow drama student, Herbie Miller, who did not realize the extent to which his girlfriend was two-timing him. “There were these guys who would call for her,” Miller remembers today. “I would be thinking that I’m the only love in her life, and some stud would arrive at school. So I’d ask her, ‘Who’s that guy?’ and she’d say, ‘Just some guy I know. He’s crazy about me.’ She would laugh about it and brush it off, like she was just sort of doing the guy a favor. I never gave it too much thought. I was very naive, I
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