Danielle Steel - Remembrance

“No, Colonel … no.…”

“No? What no? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” The old butler nodded resolutely, held up a finger like the leader of a symphony orchestra and instructed them both. “Please wait. Just a moment. I come right back.” He had disappeared then into the pantry, and a distant clattering of heels told them that he had gone downstairs. B.J. shrugged, not sure of what was going on, and Serena's heart was beginning to pound with excitement. In half an hour she would be Mrs. Bradford Jarvis Fullerton III.

“I can't believe it.” Suddenly she giggled and grinned up at him like a little girl.

“What, love?” He was glancing at his watch. He hoped that Pierre wouldn't make them late.

But Serena seemed unconcerned. “I can't believe we're getting married. It's like a fairy tale. I mean, who would believe …” She rattled on as they waited and then she looked up at him again. “Do your parents know?” She had just thought of that again, but she assumed that he had already let them know.

“Sure.” But his answer was a little too quick, and Serena looked at him in sudden suspicion.

“Brad?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell them?”

“I told you, yes.”

Her voice was suddenly more subdued as she sat down on one of the peach velvet banquettes. “What did they say?”

“Congratulations.” He grinned lopsidedly at her and she made a face.

“You're impossible. I'm serious. Were they angry?”

“Of course not. They were pleased. And much more importantly, Serena, I'm pleased. Isn't that enough?” He looked earnestly at her, and she stood up to kiss him again.

“Of course that's enough.” And at precisely that moment Pierre returned, bustling with excitement and with Marie-Rose in tow, carrying a black satin bag draped over something on a hanger. As Marie-Rose stopped talking Pierre took the cumbersome object from her, held the hanger high and unzipped the black satin bag, revealing within a sumptuous dark brown fur coat, which as it emerged from the satin turned out to be sable. Serena stared at it in silence, confused as to why it was there.

“Mademoiselle … Principessa. …” Pierre beamed at her with an official air. “This sable coat belonged to the late baroness and we have kept it with the baron's other valuables, downstairs, in the locked room, for all of these years. We think it seems appropriate … we would like it if you would wear it today, when you marry the colonel, and tomorrow at the church.” He smiled gently at her and extended the coat as Serena almost visibly trembled.

Marie-Rose added softly from behind him, “It would look lovely with your white dress.”

“But it's so valuable … sable … good heavens … I couldn't.…” And then helplessly toward her fiancé, “Brad … I …”

But he had just exchanged a long look with Pierre, and the girl's shabby brown tweed coat lay in an ugly little heap on the banquette. She was a princess, after all, and she was about to become his wife, what harm could it do to wear it just twice? “Go on, sweetheart. Why don't you wear it? Pierre's right, and it's a beautiful coat.” He smiled tenderly at his bride.

“But, Brad …” She was flushed crimson, partly in embarrassment and partly in excitement. To save time B.J. simply took the coat gently from the old butler's hands and slipped it on her. It fit perfectly over her shoulders, the sleeves were full and the right length, the coat was cut in the same flare as her dress, and instead of a collar it had a huge generous hood, which he slipped onto her head now. She looked like a fairy princess in a Russian fairy tale as she stood there, and he had to bend to kiss her as Pierre and Marie-Rose looked on with delight.

“Good luck, mademoiselle.” Pierre stepped forward to shake her hand, and without thinking, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” She could barely speak, she was so moved. How much they trusted her, and how quickly, after what they had all been through in the war, it was extraordinary to be able to make these gestures, of faith and love and generosity. In a sense it was their wedding gift to her, and she was more moved than she could have told them. Marie-Rose came toward her too, and the two women hugged, as Marie-Rose kissed Serena on both cheeks.

When they arrived at l'hôtel de ville, at the end of the Rue de Rivoli, hand in hand they ran up the steps, and Brad held the door open for her, as she passed beneath his arm in a swirl of the sable coat. She noticed a few heads turn as she and Brad walked solemnly down a gold and mirrored hallway, stopped at an office, and he extracted a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and handed them to a young woman who seemed to be fully up to date on the entire proceeding. He apologized to her for being late, and a moment later the young woman beckoned from a door, and Serena and Brad followed her inside. Here they were met by a heavy set clerk of some kind who asked them to sign an enormous ledger. He looked over their papers again, checked their passports, and then stamped several documents with an official-looking seal. He came around his desk then, with a harrumph and some minor adjustment to his glasses, straightened his tie, and then raised his right hand, looking as though he were about to swear them in. He muttered several banal phrases in French, and then extended a worn-out old Bible to Serena, asking her to repeat after him, the following phrases, which she did with her big green eyes wide, and her face pale, and her heart beating very fast, and then suddenly it was Brad's turn, and then seconds later it seemed to be over, and the heavyset man turned and walked back around his desk and sat down.

“You may go now. And congratulations.” He looked most unimpressed, and Brad and Serena looked at each other with the first hint of realization.

“We're all through?” It was Brad who spoke.

“Yes.” He looked at them as though they were very stupid. “You're married.”

They moved as though in a dream, holding hands all the way home, where they found the champagne Marie-Rose and Pierre had left them, and Brad toasted his wife with a tender smile.

“Well, Mrs. Fullerton, what do you think? Time to go to bed?” Brad's eyes gleamed mischievously, and Serena shook her head with a look of amusement and regret.

“Already? On our wedding night? Shouldn't we stay up for hours, or go dancing or something?”

“Is that really what you want to do?” They smiled into each other's eyes and slowly she shook her head.

“I just want to be with you … for the rest of my life.”

“And you will, my darling, you will.” It was a promise of safety and protection, which she knew he would always keep. Then he scooped the long-legged beauty into his arms and proceeded out of the living room and up the broad staircase, carrying her toward the bedroom, where he laid her gently upon the bed.

“Brad …” she said in a tentative whisper, and her hands were as urgent as his as she felt her husband's body and ran her hands quickly under his shirt, and then more slowly undid the trousers as she felt the huge hungry bulge in his pants.

“I love you, darling.”

“Oh, Brad.”

“May I?” He pulled away from her for just an instant before undoing the white dress and she nodded slowly as he unzipped it and pulled it over her head. “Oh, darling, I want you so much.” His hands and his lips found her at once, and a moment later she was naked on the big bed and so was he, the lights were dim, and the fire was bright, and outside it was suddenly nightfall, on then-wedding night, as her body rose hungrily toward his, and he took her gently and fully, reveling in the knowledge that now she was his wife.

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