'Yes,' she murmured, 'of course,' silently vowing that rather than run into him everywhere she would lock herself up at the villa like a hermit.
'It seems that General Kersten and I,' Luigi informed her, 'shall be working closely together.'
'Oh?' She looked startled. 'But - but I thought you were the Italian Air Force attaché, Luigi.'
'So he is,' General Kersten boomed. 'But things in Germany are now different. Herr Hitler has become chancellor, and his first order of business is to strengthen ties with our Italian brothers. He is an ardent admirer of your Premier Mussolini, you know. The Fuehrer wants for Germany as Herr Mussolini wants for Italy - a thousand- year Reich. And to do that, Germany must be strengthened. It seems your premier has kindly loaned your husband to Germany for a while.'
'I-I don't understand.' Charlotte-Anne looked at Luigi.
'I only heard about it myself a few minutes ago,' Luigi told her. 'It seems I'm going to be made General.'
'Oh, Luigi,' she whispered, forcing a smile she did not feel. 'How wonderful!'
She gazed quietly around the room at the men in formal wear and dress uniforms, the ladies in their finest gowns and jewels. It was so deceptively peaceful and lovely, and yet she could sense a frightening, invisible undercurrent. It was as though something obscene had entered the marble hall. The talk of thousand-year empires frightened her; she didn't know why.
'Ah, I see that you have already met General Kersten,' the Minister of Defense said as he approached with his wife. He smiled at Charlotte-Anne, then looked at Luigi. 'I take it you do not mind if I borrow the lovely Principessa for a few minutes?'
'Not at all,' Luigi replied. 'And I shall borrow your beautiful wife in the meantime.'
The Minister's wife took his arm, her smile displaying her unfortunately long teeth to disadvantage.
Charlotte-Anne bowed her head and slipped her arm through the Minister's, grateful for the opportunity to get away from General Kersten.
'Are you enjoying our little reception?' the Minister asked as he led her across the hall.
'It is lovely.' She favored him with a smile.
'And you, Principessa, are the single loveliest woman here. I look forward to your adorning more of our functions.'
'As you wish.' She blushed and inclined her head, expecting him to lead her in a dance. Instead, he took her past the dance floor and out to an anteroom. She looked at him with surprise as he closed the padded door. The music sounded muted and far away.
'I hope you will forgive me for being so mysterious, Principessa,' he said as he turned to her, 'but I wanted to speak to you in private.'
She felt a sudden alarm. 'Is something wrong?'
'No, no, not at all,' he assured her. 'Certainly not. I just wanted to speak to you about your husband's future. And your own.'
'I don't think I understand.'
'You will, in time. Forgive me if I do not elaborate, but there are forces developing in many countries which will soon change the world as we know it; what these are is unimportant at the moment. What is important is that it will be for the better.' He paused and smiled. 'Your husband is an important man, Principessa. Il Duce is relying upon him more and more. He has great expectations for him.'
She nodded. She had heard all this before, and she was wondering where it would eventually lead.
'A lovely wife is, of course, a tremendous asset to a man's career, and in that the Prince is very lucky.'
'You flatter me,' she said softly, meeting his eye. 'But one thing I do not understand. Sometimes you call my husband Colonel. Other times, you refer to him as the Prince. Which is he, Signor Minister? A prince or a colonel?'
'Both, of course.' He looked vaguely unsettled; then he said smoothly, 'As I was saying, you are a tremendous asset to your husband. And you will have the opportunity to be an even greater one. The Colo - the Prince - will shortly be made general, and as you know, even among generals there is a . . . well, to put it bluntly, a pecking order.' He smiled wryly. 'Your husband can either become a very powerful general, or merely one in a crowd. Much of that depends upon you. I sincerely believe that it would behoove this country if he were to become very powerful. Your husband has many attributes that this country needs now as never before. He is a well respected member of an old and titled family. IL Duce believes that what his government needs to function more smoothly is the support of the aristocracy, who at present do not universally give him the respect he deserves. Times are changing, Principessa. Italy is finally entering the twentieth century as a major power in her own right, and your husband's expertise with automobiles and aviation - well, in the near future, that expertise is going to be very important for Italy. It will make the difference between success and failure.'
'In what way?'
'That, I'm afraid, I'm not at liberty to say. However I, and indeed most of Italy, would appreciate it, immensely, Principessa, if you did everything within your power to help your husband rise swiftly within our government. Who knows? Soon he might become second only in power to IL Duce.'
'And how do you suggest I help do this?' she asked curiously. 'By socializing more? By giving more parties, arranging charity functions -'
He smiled. 'That, too. But I'm thinking mainly about something else.'
'Yes, Signor Minister?'
'You are still an American citizen, Principessa. In order to help your husband fully and for you to become totally accepted in society and by the government, to gain true credibility for both your husband and yourself, you must renounce your American citizenship and become an Italian.'
She stared at him, instantly bitter at his proposal.
'You will do it?' he asked hopefully.
She schooled herself to speak calmly. 'I will certainly consider it, Signor Minister.'
'Of course,' he said soothingly, 'but please. Do not think about it for too long. For events that are coming . . . well, I cannot over-emphasize that speed is essential.'
'But acquiring a country's citizenship takes time, does it not?'
'It usually does.' He nodded, then smiled. 'But in your case, Principessa, I'm certain that the time-consuming steps can be dispensed with. It can be done with much speed.'
'I see.' She nodded, frowning thoughtfully. 'As I said, Minister, I will certainly give it careful but quick thought.'
'I knew you would.' He paused. 'But please, do not take too long to make up your mind.' Then he bowed, pivoted on his heel, and left the anteroom.
For a long time, she remained alone. She wondered if Luigi knew that this conversation had taken place. Or that it had been planned. Perhaps that had been the cause of his uncharacteristic nervousness.
Her hand went to the necklace round her throat where the diamonds and sapphire felt cold against her skin. What was this necklace, she thought, besides a slave collar? How much choice did she really have about keeping her American citizenship?
She knew only one thing. She loved Luigi with all her heart and soul. She would do anything in her power which might help him, with no questions asked. She had told the Minister that she would give his request thought, but she already knew what her answer would be. She would do as he had asked.
Still, she couldn't help thinking that the sapphires and diamonds had been a bribe.
14
Only some time later did the third occurrence, which was by far the most ominous, take place, and it was then that the previous events took on their true significance. In the meanwhile, Charlotte-Anne went on with her life in the Villa della Rosa with blissful ignorance.
Rome was a social whirlwind. There were no end of private parties and official functions to attend, and everywhere conversations turned to politics. She had little interest in the subject and her ever-increasing popularity was based, in good part, on the light-hearted, charming social bantering she preferred. With her, people felt at ease. They didn't have to watch every word they said, or defend their views. The reasoning behind this was simple: when she was around she pu
t a stop to all political talk, and adroitly turned the conversations to lighter subjects.
Nonetheless, she increasingly sensed a growing turbulence under the placid surface of Roman society stemming from the 'events' the Minister had hinted at, and which were indeed beginning to flourish. There were rumors of unrest, military build-ups, and an air of impending war. Overnight, receptions and dinners became military strategy sessions; wives worked the parties, jockeying for their husbands' promotions; generals sought out industrialists and vice versa; favors were exchanged and deals consummated amid the free-flowing champagne, caviar, and waltzes.
She sensed the carefree days drawing to an end, but she didn't want to believe what was happening. She tried every way she could not to face it, and for a time she was successful. Europe might have been in the midst of a gathering hurricane, but the power centers, the capitals, seemed to be at the eye of the storm, and were deceptively peaceful. However, eventually her unspoken anxieties grew too strong to ignore. She was terrified that if she mentioned them to Luigi, he would agree that her fears were founded. His promotions - now coming in quicker succession - would soon make him chief general of the Air Force. She was increasingly aware of the political turmoil, but tried to tell herself that it was only because of the more powerful social circles they moved in. She wanted desperately to believe that the charged unrest was something she hadn't felt before simply because their sphere of friends and acquaintances hadn't included so many foreigners as it did now. Rome was, after all, filled with them.
Germans were everywhere.
Despite these misgivings, time still seemed to fly past in a blur, and so did the string of miscarriages which truly darkened her life. She was her happiest when Luigi was at - her side. Unfortunately, he couldn't be there always. As time went by, she saw less and less of him, and their time together became all the more precious. She wasn't in the least bit interested what the duties which he carried out for IL Duce were; she cared only for the time he was with her. After their fourth year together, when Luigi was sent on more frequent/and lengthier assignments to Germany, she started to become depressed because she felt so alone. Whenever he was not with her, she found herself caught in an emotional limbo.
'I want to go with you,' she told Luigi, not for the first time.
He smiled good-naturedly. 'I must go alone, cara,' he replied sadly. 'Armed forces bases are not places for women.'
Her face fell, and he urged her to spend the time he was gone at the Palazzo di Cristallo. His parents, he was sure, would look forward to her visit. She shook her head. 'I like Rome, Luigi,' she said. 'Besides, when you return you come to Rome first. I want to be here, waiting for you.'
He smiled. 'I shall miss you.'
'And I shall miss you, too.' She paused. 'Luigi. . . '
'Yes?'
'Why do you have to go to Germany so often? I didn't think Germany was allowed either an army or an air force after the last war.'
'They are allowed a small one of each, but Adolf Hitler is now in power, and he is trying to end all that. He believes Germany must be strong in order to survive.' His voice grew more fervent, and his eyes took on a glazed glow. 'You wouldn't believe what is happening in Germany, cara,' he whispered. 'The flying. Every weekend, thousands and thousands of weekend enthusiasts take to the air in gliders. It's like the national sport! They're training for when Germany will have a real air force again. IL Duce is lending me to the Germans to help teach them, and to point out areas for expansion.'
She turned to the window and looked out at their sunlit backyard and its manicured lawn, its oval swimming pool, and the ancient walls of the Borghese Gardens behind it. 'What is Adolf Hitler like?' she asked.
He hesitated a moment. It was as though he hadn't yet made up his own mind and had to collect his thoughts. 'He is a very complicated man,' he paid slowly. 'But there's something about him . . . a kind of magnetism he radiates, which draws people to him. I've never seen anything like it. He's very much like our own IL Duce, but much stronger. He seems to throw off an aura of power. When he's at a rally, he can literally drive people berserk. When he's not pleased with something, he rants and raves and throws worse tantrums than a spoiled child. Yet in private, he can be exceedingly charming and polite. He's a contradiction, but a fascinating one.'
She did not take her eyes off the backyard view. 'Do you like him?' she asked.
'I don't really know. I suppose I've never given it any thought.'
'Doesn't he . . . frighten you?'
He frowned, then laughed. 'Yes, you know, I suppose he does.'
She turned around then, not wanting to hear any more. She should never have asked. It was all too frightening. She smiled. 'I'd better have Magda press an extra uniform. You won't want to look all rumpled when you arrive in Berlin.'
And as she left the room, she felt an ache in the pit of her belly. It wasn't until half an hour later, after she'd calmed down, that she acknowledged its cause: fear. She could no longer lie to herself; she knew that things were not right. She loved Luigi, but hated fascism in all its ugly forms. She would never forget that incident at the border for as long as she lived. But she had made her bargain with the Principessa Marcella: she would never do anything which might hurt Luigi or the di Fontanesis. She loved Luigi too much. She was his model wife, and because of that, he was one of the most envied men in all Rome. Other wives, it was whispered, were known to conduct discreet affairs when their husbands were out of town for any period of time. But Charlotte-Anne would never dream of such behavior. She lived for one thing only.
Luigi.
Often, she thought of how she failed him constantly, and she was always trying to find new ways to make it up to him. She knew how badly he wanted a son and it hurt her deeply since, after the stillborn child, she failed to carry another full term.
'Next time, cara,' he always told her gently. 'Next time.'
But miscarriage followed miscarriage.
The time Luigi was gone always crawled by. The time he was with her was a blur. Whenever they went to visit his family, or on the rare occasions when the Principessa Marcella and Prince Antonio came to visit Rome, everything was seemingly perfect and polite. On the surface, Charlotte-Anne and the Principessa were friends. Over the years, they had perfected the charade. Only when they were alone, did the fangs come out.
'I hear you had another miscarriage,' the Principessa once told her dryly.
Charlotte-Anne stared at her. 'Italy is a small country, I see. Word gets around quickly.'
'For a di Fontanesi, yes,' the Principessa said pointedly, hinting that in her mind Charlotte-Anne would never be a real di Fontanesi. 'We have ears everywhere.'
The next day, Charlotte-Anne changed gynecologists.
And then the winds of political change threw their life into a tailspin.
Luigi was gone for longer and longer periods of time, and she saw precious little of him. Slowly, and with growing fear, Charlotte-Anne watched her husband, who had previously been only a token fascist, being converted by the aphrodisiac of power. There was no longer time for the little pleasures of life. Germany had become Luigi's second home.
'I'm very sorry you feel this way,' he said one day after she fussed because he was going to be gone for sixty days, 'but this is military business.'
'Luigi, for God's sake, I'm your wife. I don't get to see you half as much as those Germans do.'
He looked at her with a stony expression. 'Please, cara, don't whine. It is unattractive.'
She stared at him. It was the first time he had ever talked to her in such a condescending tone and she wanted to burst into tears. She managed to remain dry-eyed only by reminding herself that he had many responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. She mustn't add to them by making wifely noises.
The only thing which hadn't changed with his increased hunger for power and ambition was his passion. When he was home, his ardor was as great as it had ever been. But there were times she got the feeling that it w
as not he who lay in their bed. He looked like Luigi, spoke like Luigi. But increasingly, she was under the impression that he was no longer the man she had married.
She wanted the old Luigi back.
The night before he flew to Germany for two months, he took her to bed as usual. He entered her quickly, and rode her hard, bringing her swiftly to orgasm just as he exploded inside her and let out an anguished, drawn-out cry. Then he collapsed wearily beside her.
Like a slap in the face, she realized how much their love- making too had changed. Gone from their bedroom was the sensual torture of protracted foreplay. There was a new kind of efficiency even in his sex: he entered her, achieved orgasm, and collapsed. As if there was time for nothing else.
Luigi,' she whispered, opening her eyes.
'Hmmmm?' He was half asleep already.
'Luigi. . . you said you'd be gone for two months?'
'Hmmmmm.'
'Well, it's been ages since I've last seen my family. What do you say I sail for New York and visit with them while you're gone?'
'I don't think so,' he yawned.
She frowned and sat up. 'Why not?'
'Cause . . . you can't go.'
She flushed with uneasiness. 'You mean you won't let me?' she asked incredulously.
He yawned again. 'If it were up to me you could go anywhere you pleased.' Then he rolled over and his breathing came at low and regular intervals. He was already fast asleep.
She stared at him for a long while, turned off the lights, and crawled under the covers. She pulled them up to her chin and lay awake for hours. What did he mean, if it were up to him she could go anywhere she pleased?
She found out the next morning, after Luigi had left. She had gone to the passport office, realizing that since she had renounced her American citizenship, she no longer held a valid passport. To date, they'd never had the opportunity to vacation outside Italy, so she'd never bothered getting one.
At the passport office she received the ominous news: she was not allowed to travel outside the country.
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