“Not exactly. I told her that things had changed and I wanted to call off the engagement.”
“Not by the account I heard.” Margaret Fullerton did not sound as though she believed her son. “Pattie said that you were having an affair with your scrub girl, and when she caught you at it, she gave back the ring and came home.”
“It's a nice tight little story, Mother. The only trouble is that it's not true. The only thing true about it”—he realized that it made sense to admit at least that much to his mother, in case she heard something later on—”is that Serena was working at the palazzo. Her parents owned it before the war. But her father was among the aristocracy against Mussolini, and both of her parents were killed early on in the war. It's a long story and I won't give you all the details now. She's a principessa by birth and spent the war at a convent in the States, and when she returned to Italy last summer, she found that the rest of her family had died, she had no one and nothing left, so she went back to the palazzo to see it, and was taken in by one of the maids. She's had a grim time of it, Mother.” He smiled at Serena. “But that's all over now.”
“How charming. A little match girl. A war bride.” Her tone was venomous. “My dear boy, do you have any idea how many nobodies are wandering around Europe now pretending that they were once princes and counts and dukes? My God, they're even doing it over here. There's a waiter in your father's club who claims that he's a Russian prince. Perhaps,” his mother suggested sweetly, “you'd like to introduce your bride to him. I'm sure he'd be a much more suitable companion for her than you are.”
“That's a rotten thing to say.” His eyes flayed. “I called to tell you the news. That's all. I think we've said enough for now.” Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Serena's eyes fill with tears. She knew what was happening and it tore at his heart. He wanted to make everything right for his wife and he didn't give a damn what his mother said. “Good-bye, Mother. I'll speak to you again soon.”
His mother offered no congratulations. “Before you go, you might like to know that your brother Gregory just got engaged.”
“Really? To whom?” But he didn't really care now. He was too incensed about his mother's behavior and her reaction to the news of his marriage to Serena. Only one thing struck him odd before she told him, and that was that Ted hadn't said a word about Greg.
“He got engaged to Partie.” She said it with pleasure, almost with glee.
“Atherton?” B.J. was stunned.
“Yes, Pattie Atherton. I didn't write to you because I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to cause you unnecessary pain.” Bullshit. She wanted to maximize the shock. B.J. knew his mother better than that. “She began seeing him almost as soon as she got back from Rome.”
“That's terrific.” He marveled at what a manipulative scheming little bitch Pattie was. At least she had chosen the right brother this time. Greg would do everything she wanted him to. She had made the right choice for herself. But B.J. found himself wondering if she would destroy his brother. He hoped not, but he was almost sure that she would. He was dying to ask Ted what he thought of it, but he knew that now he wouldn't be able to speak to him again. “When are they getting married, Mother?”
“In June. Just before he turns thirty.” How touching. And Pattie would be twenty-four, and the perfect bride in a white lace dress. Suddenly the mental picture of it made him almost ill. His brother devoured by that bitch. “I'm sure it would be painful for you, Brad. But I think you should be here.”
“Of course. I wouldn't miss it.” He felt more like himself now, but he was still awed by his mother's skill.
“And you can leave the little war bride at home.”
“That's not even a remote possibility, Mother. We look forward to seeing you all then, and for now Merry Christmas. I won't bother to speak to Greg now, but give him my best.” He didn't give a damn about speaking to Greg. They had never been close and they were less so now, and he had had enough of his mother and her vicious attitude about Serena. He wanted to get off the phone at all costs. He was only sorry that Serena was in the room while he spoke to his mother. He truly wished that he could tell her all that he was thinking. But he would have to do that by letter, and without delay.
“I think he's still in the dining room with Pattie. We were just finishing breakfast when you called. Pattie came by early today, they're going to Tiffany's first thing this morning to pick out the ring.”
“Marvelous.”
“It could have been you, Brad.”
“I'm glad it's not.” There was a pregnant silence.
“I wish it were. Instead of what you've just done.”
“You won't feel that way when you meet Serena.”
There was an odd silence. “I don't normally socialize with maids.”
Brad wanted to explode at her reaction, but knew he could not, for Serena's sake.
“You're a fool, Brad.” She rushed on into his silence. “You ought to be ashamed. A man with your connections and your chances, and look what you've just done with your life. It makes me want to weep for what you're throwing away. Do you think you'll ever make it in politics now, with that kind of woman as your wife? For all you know she's a common prostitute calling herself a princess. Pattie said she looked like a tramp.”
“I'll let you judge for yourself. She's ten times the lady Pattie is. That little slut has been giving it away free for years!” He was beginning to lose his cool at last.
“How dare you speak of your brother's fiancée in those disgusting terms.”
“Then don't you ever”—his voice flew into the phone like a torpedo, and at her end Margaret Fullerton was taken aback —”don't you ever speak about my wife that way again. Is that clear? She's my wife now. Whatever you think, you'd damn well better keep it to yourself from now on. She's mine. That's all. That's all you need to know. And I expect everyone in this family, including that little bitch Pattie, to treat her with respect. You bloody well ought to love her, all of you, because she's a damn sight better than any of you, but whether you love her or not, you'd better be polite to her, and to me when you speak about her, or you'll never see me again.”
“I won't tolerate your threats, Bradford.” Her voice was like granite.
“I won't tolerate yours. Merry Christmas, Mother.” And with that, he quietly hung up the phone. When he turned to look sorrowfully at Serena, he saw that she was sitting beside the fire, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, and when he went to her and forced her to look up, he saw that her face was drenched with tears.
“Oh, darling, I'm so sorry you heard all that.”
“She hates me … she hates me … we broke her heart.”
“Serena.” He pulled her into his arms and held her against him. “She has no heart, my darling. She hasn't for years. It's something everyone in the family knows, and I should have told you. My mother has a mind like a whip, and a heart of stone. She is tougher than most men I know, and all she wants is to make everyone do what she wants them to do. She has settled for pushing my father around for thirty-six years, and she's tried for years to push me around too. She has better luck with my brother Greg, and I'm not sure yet how Teddy is going to survive all this. But what she doesn't like about you is that you weren't her idea—she didn't find you, she didn't try to push me into marrying you. All she hates about you is that she has no control. I chose for myself, just like when I joined the army. That is what she can't accept. It has nothing at all to do with you. It has to do with a battle between me and her that has gone on for years.”
“But Pattie … she told her I was the maid at the palazzo … what must your mother think?” Serena was still sobbing in his arms.
“Serena, my love, first of all don't ever forget who you really are. And anyway, do you think it matters to me that you were a maid or whatever you've been. The only thing that I care about is that I'm sorry you had to go through all the turmoil, and trauma, and misery and hard work. But I can tell you one thing, from now on, I'm going to make your life happy, and try to make up to you for all the rest.” He kissed her damp eyes and stroked her hair gently.