When it was time to receive Mamie Fish, Mamie shook Charlotte’s hand and said, “I’m sure you’ll go places, my dear. And may those places be far, far away from here.” She walked away, laughter trailing behind her, thinking she was merely being clever, but Caroline found it rude, even by Mamie’s standards.
There was a time when Mamie never would have dared to say such a thing for fear of being banished from society, but it was clear now that Charlotte’s sullied reputation had diminished Caroline’s authority as well. Charlotte’s face flushed, and for the first time Caroline questioned whether her social clout was still strong enough to save her daughter’s reputation. Charlotte was on the dais, on display, and might as well have had a scarlet A on her chest.
Charlotte wanted to leave, and Caroline was about to let her go, when Alva Vanderbilt arrived. Caroline had invited Alva for a myriad of reasons, but mostly for Charlotte’s sake. At least now there were two divorced—or soon to be divorced—women at the ball. In a sense she was using Alva just as Alva had used Caroline to make a statement at her masquerade party all those years ago. It was clear by the way people stopped to greet Alva that society had not only accepted her imminent divorce, but now wholeheartedly embraced the future mother-in-law of the ninth Duke of Marlborough. Caroline’s guests even parted the walkway for Alva, just as they’d once done for her. She was mystified and a bit envious of Alva’s charisma.
When it was time to receive Alva, Caroline extended her hand, welcoming her.
“Mrs. Astor.” Alva smiled graciously, shaking her hand. “It’s so very good to see you again.”
“You remember my daughter, Charlotte?”
Alva took Charlotte’s hands in hers. “Why of course. Charlotte, how lovely you look, my dear.” She leaned in and said in a soft voice, “You stay strong, you hear me? Divorce is not the end, it’s a new beginning.” Then she turned to Caroline. “May I borrow your daughter for a moment?” Before Caroline answered, Alva had turned back to Charlotte. “Let’s you and I take a little stroll, shall we?”
Caroline watched Alva help Charlotte down from the dais, the sea of guests parting as the two walked along. Alva was all smiles, stopping every few feet to say hello to this one and that, gesturing toward Charlotte as if making an introduction. Alva never left Charlotte’s side, and those matrons who had just openly rejected Charlotte were now waiting their turn to speak with her. Soon it was almost as if a second receiving line had formed, people lining up to say hello to Alva. And Charlotte.
Caroline remained on the dais, still greeting her guests, but she was very much aware of how Alva’s gesture had changed the course of the evening in Charlotte’s favor. Standing next to Alva, Charlotte held her shoulders back and her head high, and the hint of that sparkle she’d lost years ago was back in her smile. It was as if the spell had been broken, a dark cloud lifted. There was a time when Caroline was the only one powerful enough to have done such a thing. But that night, her own efforts had paled in comparison to Alva Vanderbilt’s.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Society
It’s nearly dawn by the time we return home from Mrs. Astor’s ball. After our lady’s maids help us out of our gowns, return our jewels to our safes, take down our hair and braid our locks, we lie in our feather beds able to breathe deeply for the first time all day, our angry rib cages puckered and dimpled by the boning of our corsets. We take in the air, letting it fill our lungs and expand our abdomens, thinking about Alva’s triumph tonight.
It’s hard to believe this is the same Alva Vanderbilt who was cast out because of her own divorce scandal. She has clearly redeemed herself, and in the process, she’s paved the way for us, too. The only question now is, What will we do with our newfound freedom?
Choice is something we’re unaccustomed to; it’s almost too much, and at first it makes us freeze up. But another deep breath and we begin to relax, to let our minds dare to wander . . .
Penelope thinks boldly about divorcing her husband, about starting over. Ophelia wonders what it would be like to make a simple purchase without her husband’s permission. What a relief it would be to no longer produce a weekly ledger of expenses for his approval. Lydia imagines what it would be like to live the life of one of those heroines she reads about. Peggy feels that winning the vote is too lofty and instead thinks how lovely it would be to smoke a cigarette in public, or even a pipe if she so pleased, letting the aromatic tobacco swirl about her head as the brandy swirls in her snifter. We’d all love to have our own ladies’ clubs where we can go to luncheon, play poker, talk politics and gossip. We want all this and more, and we drift off to sleep now, counting possibilities like others count sheep.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Caroline
The morning after her ball, Caroline awoke at her usual time, half past eight. After her maid brought in her breakfast tray along with the morning newspapers and Caroline had completed her morning toilette, Thomas, looking a bit flustered, came to speak with her.
“Is something wrong?”
“Ah, well . . .” He was stammering, and Thomas, an elegant man, never stammered. “I’m afraid there’s been some more trouble next door.”
Caroline waited, somewhat annoyed. She had been in such a fog, so lost in mourning, that she’d hardly noticed when her nephew finally opened the Waldorf Hotel. But now she was all too aware of the strange carriages pulling up in front of her house, people of all walks of life traipsing across her lawn.
Thomas cleared his throat. She sensed he was stalling.
“Well? What is it this time?”
“I regret to inform you that apparently some of the Waldorf Hotel’s patrons relieved themselves on the front lawn last night.”
She was aghast. Civilized people didn’t do such a thing.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Astor, but I thought you would want to know.” He paused to clear his throat. “And I’m afraid there’s more.”
“More?” She crossed her arms, bracing herself.
“One of the footmen discovered that another Waldorf patron—a perfect stranger—wandered in last night during the ball along with some of your guests. I’m sorry to report that he passed out in one of your guest rooms. And apparently, he misplaced his clothing along the way.”
Caroline winced. This was unacceptable. She told Thomas to have her driver bring the carriage around and dashed off to see her nephew, demanding that Waldorf shut down his hotel.
“Well, I’m not about to do that, Aunt Lina.” The two of them were in his game room. Waldorf was shooting pool, concentrating on each shot, scarcely bothering to look up when he spoke. “The hotel is extremely profitable. Besides,” he said as he made a complicated bank shot, “your old townhouse is a bit of an eyesore. You could do us all a favor and move. I do wish you would tear the old place down and make room for something worthy of this block.”