WS: That must’ve been quite the sight. Especially for the sugar-sharers. Ha. That’s a good euphemism. Pru, write that down.
GD: You think it’s funny that the city was bombed? That I was thrown to the sidewalk, which was nothing compared to the four people I saw in front of me, blown to atoms.
PRU: Blown to atoms. Her favorite wartime anecdote.
GD: Later that night, I found shrapnel lodged in my sable shawl. The fur saved me from certain death.
PRU: I’m just going to leave you two alone …
GD: Sit down, Miss Innamorati. I’m not finished and it would serve you well to hear my tales.
PRU: But I …
GD: Not to worry. I won’t talk any more of people being blown to bits. I’m well aware of your background in that area.
PRU: You told her?
GD: He didn’t have to tell me. Return to your seat. Can we jettison your theatrics for now and return to my story? Good Lord.
WS: Please, Mrs. Spencer. Proceed. I’ll keep her theatrics in check.
PRU: HEY!
GD: It wasn’t too long after this that they found Mother’s body in the salon at her palace, left rotting for a fortnight.
WS: Sickening and tragic.
GD: Who found her and how she died I never learned. It took eleven days to contact me, which the Italians blamed on the war. I’ll tell you something. This news hit harder than the metal to my mink. Mother was no longer in the world. She died in a way she would’ve despised. Undressed. Old. And inexorably alone.
[Tape is silent for ninety seconds]
WS: I’m very sorry, Mrs. Spencer.
GD: She never got to see me married. Mother always believed I’d end up with Sunny.
WS: Sunny … as in the Earl of Sunderland. Are you finally admitting…?
GD: Yes, you’ve won the battle, all right? I was married to the Earl of Sunderland. The Duke of Marlborough. Congratulations. You beat an old woman into submission. I hope you feel quite proud of yourself.
[GD’s eyes glisten in the candlelight]
WS: Mrs. Spencer, my apologies if I was being insensitive or if I’ve hurt you …
GD: [Ignores writer] It’s what Mother wanted for me. A marriage like that. But she never saw it happen. Unless, you know.
[GD looks heavenward]
WS: She knew. I’m sure of it.
GD: I never took you for a religious man Seton. [Deep sigh] Her death changed everything for me. I decided to hell with it. Time to toss propriety out the window.
WS: In what way, exactly, did you toss it out the window?
GD: I went straight into Sunny’s arms, just as Mother would’ve wanted, though he was not yet divorced from Coon. We began traveling together, not bothering to conceal our relationship. Those were some of the best years of my life.
WS: He was your destiny.
GD: If you want to get unnecessarily romantic about it.
WS: And how did Coon feel about all of this?
GD: After the war our friendship petered out. But, not to worry, she was thrilled with her fresh new life.
WS: Why didn’t you two get married right away, then? If Coon was so happy without Sunny?
GD: They weren’t formally divorced. And we weren’t in a particular rush.
WS: You were thirty-seven when the war ended.
GD: Twenty-seven!
WS: Sure. Yes. Most women of your standing would be anxious to marry at either of those ages, especially to a renowned duke.
GD: Oh, I don’t know. [Audible sigh]. I always found the prospect of being a mistress far more alluring than being yet another duchess. In the words of Edith Wharton, “I don’t know if I should care for a man who made life easy; I should want someone who made it interesting.”
Fifty-eight
THE GRANGE
CHACOMBE-AT-BANBURY, OXFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND
JANUARY 1973
“I’m not even sure what it means,” Pru said, Nixon’s words being kicked around by her brain. “It’s over? Is that what he’s telling us? That soon the troops will return?”
“That’s what he’s telling us, yes,” Win said. “Though it’d unlikely work as fast as all that. My best guess anyway.”
Remarkably, Win’s best guess was the right one. The war would drag on but of course they didn’t know that then. The reports, they sounded final enough.
“It’s done?” Pru said, inhaling deeply. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
Win put a careful hand on her shoulder. He could feel Mrs. Spencer watching them from across the room. She made no move to disrupt the gesture, despite not being party to it. Instead she remained an observer, for perhaps the first time in her life.
“In addition to the cease-fire,” the radio voice droned on, “both sides promise to release prisoners of war. The American government estimates that over thirteen hundred United States citizens are currently being held by opposition forces.”
The men were finally coming home.
Was Pru happy for the families waiting? Chapped about the timing? A day late and a dollar short, to be sure. She had a lot of emotions right then, all of them jumbled together, not a one that stood out.
“Pru?” Win said in a whisper. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, and then shrugged, unsure what to feel.