She shook her head.
“I have some difficult decisions coming up in the Senate, and I’d love your opinion.”
She was warming to this idea.
“Who do you have a better time discussing politics with than me?” he added.
She smiled. That was true. And things with Peter were easy. They were comfortable. She trusted him.
“What’s your take on allowing Count Károlyi to make speeches while he’s in the US?” she asked. It was a small but contentious matter of debate whether the former president of the Hungarian Republic should be able to speak freely about his controversial politics while on US soil.
Peter put his finger up. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. At dinner.”
Truly, deep in her heart, Edith had not imagined then that this simple interaction would be the start of something so important. But Peter was not only a brilliant man, he was a kind one. She adored him, and he reciprocated. They had the same goals. Theycould make a difference in the world. And, after Mathilde married Sumner in June, she was out of excuses to push him away. Her other suitors were wonderful. But Peter Gerry wowed her.
Even still, she couldn’t help but feel slightly conflicted when she confessed to her daughter, “I, Nelly, am getting married.”
She had meant to say “am in love.” But she couldn’t quite bring herself to. Did she love Senator Peter Gerry? She felt quite certain she did. She loved his political views. And his social graces. She loved how he loved her, how he leaned on her and valued her opinion. The other men she had dated since the death of George—Governor Morrison, General Pershing, General Carr—certainly noticed that she was a political and financial asset, despite large fortunes of their own. But they didn’t value her opinion. Not really. Peter, on the other hand, was her true equal in every sense of the word, and he praised her for her finely tuned intellect and political instincts, for the way she could relate to women from all backgrounds. If that wasn’t love—at least the type she wanted in her second marriage—she wasn’t sure what was.
Cornelia laughed. “Well, this is quite a surprise.” She paused. “But you know how I’ve always loved Peter.” Cornelia had known the senator for years, a fact that Edith hoped would help ease this transition for her daughter.
She nodded. “The wedding won’t be for a little while. So please, please don’t breathe a word of it. We’re planning to do it in London, out of the eyes of the press, with just our families and close friends.” Edith looked her daughter in the eye, her nerves catching up to her. “I need you there, Nell. Please say you’ll be there.”
Cornelia smiled sympathetically. “OfcourseI’ll be there, Mother. I adore Peter. You know I think he is a perfect match foryou.” She reached over and squeezed Edith’s hand. “Albeit a little young,” she added, under her breath.
Edith cried out in consternation and Cornelia laughed. Her mother had been overly worried about the few-year age gap between herself and the senator. Cornelia began reeling in her line. “We should get a move on. We have work to do!”
“The wedding isn’t for a time, dear girl. Didn’t you hear? And it’s barely an event. No plans needed.”
“We need to dedicate a new room at Biltmore to you and Peter. We’ll spruce it up a little, make it fresh.”
“No, no. Peter and I have plans to build a new home in Biltmore Forest.” The very idea of moving into Biltmore with a new man made Edith queasy. The house was George’s first love, and when she was inside it, she was his wife. Edith couldn’t abide the thought of sharing a bedroom with another man under that roof. When she had told Peter, he had been supportive, agreeing to build a new house so they could start fresh in a new place. The creation of Biltmore Forest, the sale of the tract of land on what had become Vanderbilt Road, had been yet one more way in which Edith had managed to keep Biltmore House running.
Cornelia balked. “Mother, we have two hundred and fifty rooms, many of which are falling apart and in desperate need of an infusion of capital, and you want to put your money into something new? I thought we were on the same team here. I thought we wanted to save Biltmore at all costs.”
“Not at the cost of your father’s memory and dignity,” Edith snapped.
“You’re being hysterical. It’s the 1920s, for God’s sake. Women remarry all the time. You aren’t dancing on his grave about it.”
Edith peered at her daughter. “How can you not see that moving into Biltmore is precisely what that would be?”
Hours later, when the house was silent and all were asleep, after the anger had worn off and mother and daughter had made up, agreeing that the process of building a new Mediterranean stucco mansion would be quite the project, Edith did the thing she had been dreading most: She ventured to the library. She had to tell George.
Her rational mind found this exercise inane and potentially crazy. But her heart found it necessary. She had been trying mightily to quit smoking as of late. Peter didn’t like it, and she had to admit that, sometimes, her lungs felt a little full. But, back in the library, she couldn’t help herself. She removed the cloth covering her usual chair and end table, sat down by the fireplace, and rested her sterling cigarette case on the end table. The bachelors’ wing had been the real living space of Biltmore for so long now that she could scarcely remember what it was like for the main house to be her home. She removed a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply, her frazzled nerves calming.
“Ah, my dear, will you never learn?” The voice came almost immediately.
“Hello, George,” she whispered, exhaling the smoke that felt smooth and calming after an entire day without it. She looked around the library. “George, can you believe it? Can you imagine that our baby girl is going to be the rightful owner of Biltmore in just a few weeks?”
The voice—which she could still never be quite sure wasGeorge’s or her own—replied, “I remember holding her for the first time like it was yesterday.”
Edith smiled and felt herself relax. Cornelia would be twenty-five. The house would be hers. The money George had left would be hers. Their troubles would finally be over. But that wasn’t why she was here. Edith cleared her throat.
“My dear George, I’ve come to give you some news,” Edith said quietly.
There was no reply so she responded quickly, before she lost her nerve. “You know you are my great love, the father of my girl, my one and only. But the time has come for me, George. With Cornelia married and Biltmore’s fate all but sealed, I need to move forward. I want to make changes in the world.”
Edith paused, tears coming to her eyes. She whispered, “I want to get married.”
