The Wedding Veil(27)

Emma met Edith at the front door of Biltmore. “Hurry, ma’am,” she said. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into a warm bath before you catch your death of cold.”

The thought made Edith shiver. Cornelia had already lost one parent. Edith really must be more careful. But she knew that her presence made some of the more reluctant families relent and come to stay in what was, she hoped and prayed, the safest structure in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The sounds of activity from the dozens of Biltmore’s guests made Edith smile despite her fear. Children’s feet, little voices, adults talking, planning, strategizing—there was an electric hum in the air, a vibration of nerves and anxiety. But, also, the mere fact of everyone being together made them all a little stronger.

Edith took a deep breath. She must be brave. For her people.

“Mama!” Cornelia called, bursting into her room. “Emma wants to know if there’s anything we want to take up top with us.”

What could she not replace? “Daddy’s reading journals and my wedding veil!” Edith said suddenly.

She finished dressing as her daughter took off like a shot.

She and Cornelia took up their post in the observatory. Not only did Edith decide it was the safest place in Biltmore for her daughter, as it was the highest point, but it also had a view of the entire property. The French Broad was one of the most beautiful parts of the Asheville landscape, but beauty could be a fickle friend, and, in this instance, a dangerous one. Biltmore’s distance from the river would keep them safe. It had to.

Every few minutes Cornelia peered out the window. “The water is over the front step,” she reported. Then, “It’s almost to the base of the lions,” she said a few hours later, referring to the Italian rose marble beasts that protected the house.

Maybe it was the knowledge that she had helped as many people as possible stay safe, but Edith felt eerily calm in spite of looming disaster.

“Nothing to do now but wait, darling,” she said. “And no matter what, I have you, you have me, and it will all be okay.”

Cornelia nodded bravely. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof was almost deafening as she and her mother perched side by side on George’s sofa. Edith looked at her veil, draped over a chair, thinking of not only her wedding day but also of her mother and sisters, the strong women who had also worn this veil, the women who had made her who she was.

She gathered the yards of lace and tulle in her arms and sat back down. “Have I ever showed you the secret inside the Juliet cap?”

Her daughter shook her head, wide-eyed.

“You see this piece of silk?” she asked, pulling it up. “Underneath are the initials of all the women who have worn this veil.”

“Wow,” Cornelia said, tracing her fingers over her ancestry, her birthright. “Will my initials go in there one day?”

Edith nodded. “One day when you’re quite grown up and find the perfect man who adores you for all the magnificent things you are, then you can wear the veil too.” It wouldn’t be long now, Edith knew, looking at her beautiful nearly sixteen-year-old who was growing more quickly by the day.

Running a length of tulle through her fingers, Cornelia asked, “Is that how it was between you and Daddy?”

“Oh, yes,” Edith said without hesitation. But she knew it was all more complicated than that. While certainly they had married out of family obligation, she had come to love him so truly. “I miss him every day,” she said.

“Me too,” Cornelia responded as a gust of wind sent rain pelting into the window. She nestled closer to her mother.

“Daddy made sure this house could withstand anything,” Edith said to soothe Cornelia, but also herself. She thought now of the sandbags lining every door and window frame downstairs. She almost laughed at the idea that they could hold rushing floodwaters back. It was like imagining caging a deer in a trap meant for a field mouse.

“Are you nervous, Mother?” Cornelia asked.

“Maybe a little,” Edith answered honestly.

“Would you like me to tell you a story?”

Edith smiled. “I would like that so very much.”

Wind howled and debris flew, children wailed and toilets flushed. But over the noise of it all, the ping of the water on the slate and copper roof, combined with the slow cadence of Cornelia’s voice, had a tranquilizing effect. And as the floodwaters reached the paws of the massive lions that kept watch at the front steps of Biltmore, Edith, who hadn’t slept properly in days, drifted off, if only for a moment.

She dreamed of being that brave bride again, that magical veil atop her head, the man she would come to love smiling at her warmly, keeping her safe. Then she saw herself placing that same veil atop her beautiful daughter’s head. It felt like a symbol of what she hoped to give her, a passing of the torch. When Cornelia, in Edith’s dream, handed the veil back to her, Edith startled awake, her heart racing. As she reoriented herself, remembering where she was, she saw the smallest sliver of late-afternoon light peeking through the window. The weather had broken; the storm was over.

Slowing her breathing, steadying herself, she felt like maybe it had all been a bad dream. Either way, once again, they had made it through. And that was something to be grateful for.





JULIA Soggy Dollar