Mother the Meddler and a Bit of Royal Trivia
Nothing escapes the eyes and ears of Marcielle Spencer who, other than her extravagant parties in any state in the country and her antique Spanish jewel collection, is also famous for being a notorious New York gossip.
I just got home last night from a little back-to-school shopping with Carrol and a dinner date with Philip and was about to dip in the tub to relax when she swept into (yes, Marcielle doesn't walk into, she sweeps into every room she enters) my bedroom in a beautiful ivory silk jersey dress custom-made for her by her very own designer and stylist Rita Le Vonne, looking like she's about to glide out of her private jet. She has really just been to the salon.
She stood there with narrowed blue eyes, as dark as mine, her hands on her hips.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded in a controlled voice.
I raised a brow. "Say something about what?"
She shot me a warning glance. "You know what I'm talking about, Tattina Adriana."
Okay, so it doesn't sound like she's very happy. She's the only person in the whole world who calls me Tattina Adriana except for my grandmother, Sylia Laureen Spencer, who passed away a couple of years ago. My mother only calls me that when she's not happy about something I did.
"I don't so just tell me Marcielle."
By the way, I don't call my mother Mom. Well, at least not to her face or when there are people around. She told me to stop calling her Mom when I was six. She'd let me get away with it when it's just me and my Dad around but other than that, she'd throw me a scathing look if I utter the forbidden word.
She's only 39. She never wants to step on forty and she never wants to be considered old. Not that her age shows. She's beautiful and glamorous and graceful. I copied her platinum blond hair --the perfect pale shade --her dark pacific blue eyes and slender figure though she just happened to be taller. She revels in her beauty and I don't blame her. But she can be extreme. She's been a vegan since I can remember and she religiously works out and does yoga. It paid off, definitely. She is one of New York's finest, most sophisticated women. It doesn't hurt as well that she's of Spanish royalty, though her mother was a Belgian royal blood (and that's why she doesn't look very hispanic). Below is her photo in the article they wrote about her in the New York (magazine) two years ago.Of course, this has been photoshopped already. = )
Meanwhile, this is my grandmother, her mother, Princess Elise Margaux, Duchess of Brabant. She married the second son of then Spain's King Felipe, Armando Prince of Asturias. My mother is yes, both Belgian and Spanish royal blood, currently the cousin of Spain's new king and the Belgian heir apparent. So you can understand why she knows no other life but the life of luxury and wealth.
My grandmother disapproved of Mom's marriage to an American businessman (though I'm not sure what else she expected since she made sure my mother had an American education) and did not talk to her until I was born. I am my grandmother's favorite and I have spent many vacations in Antwerp with her where she lives in the 300-year-old family manor. She used to live in Asturias when my grandfather was still alive but since his death twelve years ago, she moved back to Antwerp and lived with her seventy-something dogs. Now we see her for a week right before Christmas and whenever she'd come to New York.
I usually try to avoid naming all the unpronounceable names of my relatives because many have already made a fuss about me being a Spencer here in the US. I adore my royal cousins from both sides and I am very important to them as well. I am their official travel guide everytime they come here to the US. I have introduced them to Jimmy Choo, Starbucks, Bergdorf and Hollywood. LOL!
Anyway, back to my story, she stood there and tapped her newly-manicured fingers on her hip bone. Then she started pacing around, picking up a colorfully embroidered cushion from the pink couch at the end of my bed and looking at it in disgust. She hates my room and calls it wild and unsophisticated eversince I refused the interior design she recommended to me when I had it renovated. Below is a picture of my beloved room in all its chaotic and cheerful colors and prints.
Then she turned to me and finally said, "Why didn't you tell me you and Philip are dating?"
I grew still, my heels quietly dropping to the carpeted floor as I slipped them off.
"I was going to," I told her. "But you've been very busy with the party and Anton's visit so I decided to do it later. How did you find out?"
"A good friend of mine spotted you two at Blue Hill... kissing,"she answered, her expression knowing. "I've seen you two sit close together, hold hands, have his arm around you, hug, be silly like kids, kiss each other on the cheek, have him carry you in his arms, drive you, carry your bags, give you gifts, cook for you --I've seen you two become very close eversince you were kids - but I've never seen you kiss, date or become anything romantic. So what's up?"
I suppressed a smile. "What do you mean what's up? Sure it took us a long time to cross the line like this but it doesn't mean there's any underlying agenda in all of this."
"That's not what I mean," she argued. "I love Philip --he's a darling and I know how much he cares for you. He may even love you --"
"He does, mother."
"--and that's good. He comes from a great family and his business is doing well. Though I imagined you marrying Prince William and becoming the next princess of England, I don't think it's a bad idea at all if you become Mrs. Tattina Spencer-Pryce."
I instantly became edgy, wondering if anything about my engagement to Philip got to her too. But she had an animated expression on her face now, the way she gets when she's imagining things in her head.
"We haven't said anything about marriage yet so it's a little too early to start changing my last name," I assured her, walking into the bathroom to avoid her eyes. "Philip and I are in love and we will be for a very long time. It may happen but I don't want it announced on Page Six tomorrow or whispered about in every household on the Upper East Side or marked in the calendar of Spain and Belgium's governments. You can't think ahead of us, okay?"
She followed me to the bathroom and turned me by the shoulder to face her. "But darling daughter, if you're going to have the most memorable wedding ever in the history of New York City, you need at least a year to plan it out. Haven't I taught you anything at all?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you have mother. You've taught me to walk in high heels at two and that changed my perspective of the world. But we're not getting married yet so let's stay mum about that for now, okay? Don't worry, you'll be the first person to know as soon as we decide to."
She beamed and embraced me briefly. "That's my girl. Now, go to bed and you have an appointment tomorrow with Dr. Eleanor Warner. She will do miracles to your body so you'll look perfect in your bridal gown."
"Mother!!!"
She laughed and glided out of the door. "I'm just joking. Go to bed. Goodnight darling."
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Goodnight mother."
"Oh. And Tattina?"
She stopped by the bedroom doorway and smiled at me. "I really am happy for you. Goodnight."
I smiled and closed the bathroom door.
My Mom isn't so bad. She's crazy but she's been very good to me.
So far, Philip and I are still safe.
I stepped out of the bathroom to pick up my phone then called Philip. He was with his parents visiting his aunt at Staten Island that night.
"Hey honey... How are you?"
I smiled and sat on my bed. "I'm okay. I survived a classic Marcielle Spencer prying. She knows about us."
"Oh okay. Does she know we're engaged?"
"Not yet. We're safe. She isn't calling Vera Wang for my wedding dress yet."
He chuckled and I could picture out his lopsided smile. "Okay, that's good. I know my parents would be ecstatic about the news but I want to get on your parents' good side first before I drop the bomb that I want to marry you."
"There really isn't much to worry. My parents love you. They always have."
"There's a difference between being their daughter's official escort to everywhere and being her fiance."
I nodded. "Point taken. Oh well. We still have a few months. We'll find the perfect timing."
"You haven't changed your mind yet?"he asked in a soft, hesitant tone.
I grinned. "About marrying you? Not yet. I'll let you know as soon as I do."
"Hey!"
I laughed and sat back on my pillows. "I'm kidding. Relax. I love you. I'm not changing my mind."
What's there to change, after all?
I'm marrying the most incredible man on earth.
