After he’d left, Caroline’s mother announced that she was going to host an engagement party for Helen and Mr. Roosevelt. “As her grandmother, it’s the least I can do. I didn’t want to even acknowledge Emily’s wedding. Good heavens—why you didn’t stop it, I’ll never understand,” she said now, waving her handkerchief. “You should have stepped in, used a firmer hand.”
Caroline never told her mother about General Van Alen and the duel. And regardless of what her mother thought, no one could deny that Emily and James appeared to be a harmonious couple. The two of them, along with baby Mary, were forever going on picnics, or attending birthday parties, puppet shows and the sort. Honestly, she’d never seen Emily so happy.
“Well, at least Helen has chosen well,” her mother said. “She’s always been such a sensible girl. So is Carrie. That one is wise beyond her years. Now we just have to do something about Charlotte.”
“Oh, Charlotte.” Caroline shook her head. “She shows no interest in society. She wants to serve the poor and the needy.”
“What does she know about being poor and needy? It’s time she turned her attention to finding a husband.”
“She tells me she has no interest in marriage.”
“No interest in marriage?” Her mother drew a deep, incredulous breath. “Charlotte is a beautiful girl but she can’t afford to wait any longer. You must step in this time or she’ll end up a spinster.”
Caroline feared her mother was right. She turned away and looked at the mantel, lined with photographs of her father and dead siblings.
“What about the Drayton boy?” her mother asked.
“From Philadelphia?”
“Isn’t Charlotte friendly with him?”
Caroline thought. “She knows him, but I’d hardly say they’re friendly.”
“He comes from a fine family. The Drayton lineage is sterling.”
“But Charlotte is headstrong. She’s just as stubborn as her father and—”
“Oh, Lina, do you hear yourself? Come now, you’re only making excuses. You can’t allow Charlotte to just go along her merry way. It’s time she settle down, have children. Take her place in society. For goodness’ sake, you absolutely must step in this time. It’s your responsibility as her mother.”
* * *
—
The next morning, Charlotte came downstairs for breakfast wearing an old dress, with a fraying hem and sleeves. Every time she wore it, Caroline asked her to throw it out, but Charlotte continued to wear it proudly, as if it were a banner. As of late, she no longer wanted to dress like an Astor. Didn’t want to be mistaken for a spoiled rich girl—which of course was exactly what she was. But she wanted to cut a more noble image, like a missionary, especially while running food drives for the needy, attending suffrage rallies and marches—places where she’d never meet suitable men.
Caroline held her tongue, and merely told Charlotte that she had invited the Draytons for dinner the following week.
Charlotte didn’t say anything and focused her attention on her egg cup, clearly not understanding that this dinner had anything to do with her. With her entire future.
“I’ve asked them to bring their son, Coleman, with them.”
“Oh.” Charlotte set her spoon down. “Coleman?” She said his name as if she were asking, Is that the best you can do?
Carrie turned and looked at her older sister—something passed between them, something understood that needed no words. The two of them had a language of their own just like Emily and Helen.
Charlotte raised one eyebrow in response and pushed her plate away. She didn’t finish her breakfast, said she’d lost her appetite.
One week later, the Draytons arrived. Twenty-six-year-old Coleman wasn’t a bad catch at all as far as Caroline was concerned. He was handsome with a strong chin and gentle pale blue eyes. A bit jittery, though, constantly smoothing down his mustache or patting down the lapels of his dinner jacket. William said he found Coleman’s constant fidgeting maddening and stayed in his study until he was called in for dinner.
Caroline had warned Charlotte ahead of time not to spout off about votes for women and her other causes, but a few comments had slipped out over the bluepoint oysters.
To Caroline’s surprise, Coleman had jumped right in. “They blame it on the Panic of ’73,” he’d said. He was very animated, hands gesticulating so, she thought he might knock his wineglass over. “But they need to look at what caused the depression in the first place.”
“Exactly,” said Charlotte. “It goes back to all that speculative investing in the railroads.”
“Not to mention the decline in the silver market.”
“And don’t forget about all the property lost in the Chicago fire,” added Charlotte.
Coleman nodded. “It’s all so intertwined . . .”
Caroline didn’t know if she was impressed by Charlotte’s knowledge or embarrassed that she was discussing such subjects at the dinner table. Either way, it was obvious she and Coleman would never be at a loss for conversation, and Caroline decided that the two of them were quite well suited for each other.
The following day, unbeknownst to Charlotte or Coleman, Caroline had arranged a meeting with the Draytons to discuss their children’s future. The adults agreed that the two should marry. One week later, the Draytons’ lawyer, a young, eager sort who looked like he’d yet to hang his diploma on the wall, rode the train from Philadelphia to New York with a three-page financial agreement in hand. It was settled.
* * *
—
Charlotte was in her bedroom, posing for Carrie at her vanity, her hairbrush suspended inches from her blond curls as she gazed thoughtfully in the mirror. Carrie was sitting on the floor, propped up against the side of the bed, knees bent, sketch pad resting on her thighs. They were chattering about something but went quiet as soon as Caroline appeared in the doorway.
She peered over Carrie’s shoulder. “You’ve captured her eyes quite well,” said Caroline. “This one might be good enough to frame.”
Carrie smiled as she smudged and blended the charcoal pencil, highlighting Charlotte’s cheekbones.
“Carrie, dear, would you give me a moment alone with Charlotte?”
“Can’t I stay? I won’t say a word.”
“No you may not. Besides, you shouldn’t sit like that. It’s bad for your posture.”
Carrie gathered her pencils and sketch pad, letting her sister know she’d be back to finish the drawing. As soon as Carrie closed the door, Caroline said she had good news: the arrangements with the Draytons had been finalized and she should expect a proposal within the week.