“What?” Charlotte set her hairbrush down, staring at Caroline through the mirror. She seemed completely caught off guard. “Was this his idea or yours? Does Coleman even want to marry me?”
Caroline heard someone out in the hall and presumed it was Carrie with her ear pressed to the door. “Why else would he be proposing? And you do think he’s handsome, don’t you?” Caroline asked. “And very smart.”
“Well, yes, but . . .” She was about to chew on her cuticle and thought better of it, dropping her hand to her lap. She seemed utterly confused. “Shouldn’t we get to know each other better? What if we find out we don’t like each other? Shouldn’t I at least like the man I’m supposed to marry? And what about love? When I marry—if I marry—it should be to someone I’m madly in love with. Someone I can’t live without.”
“And what if that man you’re madly in love with never comes along? What then?”
“Then I’ll be a spinster. I’d rather that than be sold off like a piece of chattel.”
Caroline frowned, blaming this all on William. By making Charlotte his favorite, by always treating her with the importance normally reserved for sons, he had given his Charlie a sense of entitlement. She actually believed she could put her foot down on this matter. She believed it, and now it was Caroline’s responsibility as her mother to stomp on it.
“This is not up for discussion, young lady. You’re twenty years old. It’s time you get married. Pretty as you are, you can’t afford to wait much longer.” Caroline once again sounded just like her mother. “Well?”
“Well what?” Charlotte shot her a harsh look. “Don’t you see—I want to do more with my life than be someone’s wife, someone’s mother. Is that so wrong?”
Caroline thought for a moment. “No, my darling, it’s not wrong. Not wrong at all. I think it’s perfectly understandable for a woman—especially an ambitious woman like you—to want more for herself. That’s why society is so important. You need to get more involved. You could do a great deal of good there.”
“Society?” Charlotte laughed. “How can society possibly be enough?”
“Because we make it enough. It’s what your grandmother did and what I’ve done and your older sisters do, too.”
“But society is an illusion. Aside from a handful of charitable events, society doesn’t help anyone outside your circle, and I’m sorry, but that’s not enough for me.”
“But it’s all we have.” Caroline’s chest grew tight. Yes, she could appreciate that Charlotte wanted more—Caroline had wanted more, too. But they had to face reality. In Caroline’s eyes, all Charlotte’s marching, all those lectures she’d attended were just another form of illusion, no different from Caroline serving society. They were two sides of the same coin: two women looking to bring meaning to their lives, even if that meant they had to invent it out of thin air.
“Charlotte, the sooner you accept things as they are, and quit bucking up against everything, the better off you’ll be. This proposal is for your own good.”
“You really think so, don’t you?”
“I’m your mother—don’t you think I want what’s best for you? Don’t you think I want to see you happy?”
Charlotte looked at her, and Caroline could see that something had hardened within her. The air between them thickened, and when it was obvious that Charlotte wasn’t going to fire back, it threw Caroline. Something was going on behind those big blue eyes, and Caroline found it unnerving.
When she couldn’t take it anymore, Caroline broke the silence. “Well? Am I to assume you’ll accept Coleman’s proposal? You’ll agree to marry him?”
Charlotte’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t suppose I have a choice in the matter now, do I?”
An hour later, Caroline walked by Charlotte’s room and heard her daughter inside crying to Carrie.
* * *
—
Before the guests began arriving for Helen and Rosy’s engagement party, Caroline’s mother insisted on having a family photograph taken. The photographer, a tall, slender man in a snug-fitting vest and brown tweed trousers, set up his tripod and began posing everyone in the parlor. He seated Caroline’s mother in front with Helen and Rosy to her left, Caroline and William to the right. He scooted Coleman Drayton closer to Van Alen and then scooted Van Alen closer to Emily, who had baby Mary in her arms. He moved Carrie next to her aunt Augusta and put Jack in the back row next to his uncle John and cousin Waldorf.
The photographer stood before them, squinting one eye, sizing them up as if he were the camera’s lens. “Lovely,” he said. “Just lovely. Stay just like that.” He jogged back to his tripod and ducked beneath his dark curtain. “Ready, everyone? On a count of three—”
“Not so fast,” said Caroline’s mother, tapping her cane to get everyone’s attention. “Far be it from me to raise concern, but has anyone seen Charlotte?”
The family photograph was put on hold while everyone went off in different directions, searching the house. Coleman, in his usual frenetic manner, began looking behind curtains, under tables, as if his wife-to-be were a child, playing hide-and-seek. Meanwhile, Caroline and her mother took the main floor, her mother rising out of her chair with herculean force. She kept pace with Caroline as she went room to room, her mother displaying more vigor than she had in months.
“Charlotte? Charlotte, where are you?” Caroline called out as they left the music room and entered the drawing room.
“She has to be nearby. She was with you all when you arrived,” Caroline’s mother muttered. “How does one misplace a grown child?”
Caroline turned and saw Carrie standing near the front door, pointing. “She’s outside.”
Caroline threw open the front door and there was Charlotte, waiting out front. Caroline called to her just as she took off running in the opposite direction. Caroline stepped onto the stoop and saw that she was running toward a man coming up the walkway. It wasn’t until he cleared the shadow of a tree that Caroline recognized him. It was Duncan Briar.
Caroline saw what was happening, but she couldn’t get herself to move. Charlotte looked back at Caroline, her sister and her grandmother, but she kept going, heading toward Duncan Briar.
“Charlotte?” Caroline’s mother called out. “Charlotte, where do you think you’re going? Lina, what is going on? Charlotte? Charlotte, you get back here.”
It was hearing her mother take charge, knowing that she was standing right behind her, witnessing it all, that prompted Caroline into action. Under the pressure of her mother’s watch, Caroline rushed down the front steps. If ever she was being tested, forced to call upon all her negotiating and diplomatic skills, this was it. She could hear her mother’s voice inside her head: Be firm, Lina. Take charge of this. It’s for her own good.