So Charlotte and Coleman had their differences. Pish-posh. So theirs wasn’t a marriage of love and passion. So few were. She knew Charlotte had been unhappy from time to time. Many a wife was dissatisfied with her husband. That’s why the children were so important. Frankly, Caroline was surprised that William and Coleman were making such a fuss over the matter.
“What kind of marriage trouble?” she asked finally, somewhat distracted.
Coleman spoke up for the first time. “Your daughter has been carrying on with our neighbor, Hallett Borrowe.”
Carrying on! That got Caroline’s attention. The shock of it crackled in her ears. She was accustomed to husbands breaking their vows, but a wife and mother? Never!
“It’s been going on for some time,” said Coleman.
Caroline couldn’t believe her daughter was capable of such a thing. She looked at William but he wouldn’t meet her eye. “How do you know it’s true?”
Coleman’s cheeks began to color. “I’d rather not say in mixed company. But trust me when I tell you that I have proof. After I discovered the two of them—and in my own home, I might add—I threatened divorce.”
“Oh heavens no,” said Caroline. This time when she looked at William, he was rubbing his temples, his eyes closed. Divorce would be too great a scandal for the Astor family. “You mustn’t even think of such a thing,” said Caroline. “These matters can be worked through.”
“I thought so, too,” said Coleman. “After I found out about the affair, Charlotte wrote me a letter.” He produced a piece of Charlotte’s stationery from his breast pocket, a trifold, well creased as if read over and over again. “She confessed to her affair with Borrowe—it’s all right here, in her own hand.” He held out the letter. “She promised to never see him again.”
“Very well then,” said Caroline. “See? The matter is resolved.”
“I’m afraid not. Charlotte is still carrying on with that miscreant. And you should know—he’s a married man, too.”
“Oh dear God.” Just when Caroline thought it couldn’t get any worse.
“I can’t tolerate that kind of behavior or expose my children to such things. I’ve tried talking sense into Charlotte, but she claims she can’t help herself.” He shook his head, tugging on his shirt cuffs. “I have no choice but to move ahead with divorce proceedings.”
“No, no, no,” said Caroline. “We can’t allow that to happen. Especially because of the children. I will talk to Charlotte.”
* * *
—
But when she did speak with Charlotte later that day, Caroline’s daughter only repeated what Coleman had already said: “I can’t help myself.”
“Well, you’d best learn to help yourself, young lady. Your husband is threatening to divorce you over this.”
Charlotte didn’t say anything. She seemed more interested in the flowers in her parlor, lazily rearranging the lilies in a cut-glass vase.
“Do you have any idea what a divorce would do to your reputation?”
“Is that all you care about? My reputation?” She stabbed a stem into the vase. “What about my happiness? I’m miserable with Coleman. I don’t love him. I never did. You knew I loved Duncan and you forced me to marry Coleman. I was devastated over Duncan. For years. And then I met Hallett. He’s the only happiness I’ve known since I got married.”
“Just because you want something doesn’t mean you can have it,” said Caroline. “What about your children?”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, Mother,” she said, still busying herself with those flowers, “but I’m glad Coleman found out about Hallett. I wanted him to find out about us. I want Coleman to divorce me.”
“And what then? Hallett is a married man.”
“He’ll leave his wife—I know he will. He doesn’t love her. He’ll divorce her and we’ll get married.”
“Charlotte, you don’t know what you’re saying. Divorce is not an option.”
She finally abandoned the flowers and looked Caroline in the eyes for the first time. “I can’t stay in a marriage when I’m this unhappy. I just can’t.”
You don’t have a choice, Caroline wanted to say. Charlotte’s biggest problem, the source of her pain, was that she actually believed she had a right to have what her heart desired. “If you divorce, you would never be welcome in the world in which you were raised. You would tarnish your children’s reputations right along with your own. You would be an outcast, and that, my dear, is a very lonely existence. Much lonelier than staying married to Coleman. And your father will not tolerate it. He’ll disown you. I’m certain of it.”
Charlotte looked up, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “You can’t be doing this to me again. You just can’t.” As much as she claimed not to care about her family’s wealth, as much as she said she didn’t want to be another rich girl, it was always the money that pulled her back in line.
“I mean it, Charlotte. You won’t receive a penny.”
Charlotte looked up. Finally understanding the gravity of what she’d done. “So I’m trapped. Is that what you’re saying? I’m trapped in this marriage? Forever?” Charlotte covered her face with her hands, her shoulders quaking as the tears slipped through her fingertips, mumbling incoherently.
“You have to stay in the marriage—that’s all there is to it. That is, if your husband will let you.”
Caroline knew that the decision was entirely up to Coleman, who had every right to seek a divorce.
* * *
—
Twenty minutes later, Caroline showed up at her son-in-law’s office, handsomely appointed and paneled in Circassian walnut. He had a marble bust of himself stationed on his desk, which he leaned up against, arms folded, listening to her offer.
“$5,000,” she said. “Annually.”
Coleman sighed and looked up toward the coffered ceiling. “In exchange for what, exactly?”
“For staying married to my daughter. And for your discretion.”
Coleman lowered his chin and uncrossed his arms, stuffing his hands inside his pockets. He seemed to be weighing her offer. He knew what divorce would do to his own reputation, and of course Caroline knew he was considering the children. “What about your daughter’s discretion?” he asked.
“Charlotte has given me her word that she won’t see him again. She’s filled with remorse.”