The Wedding Veil(57)
Cornelia smiled.
Edith, the little girl who had grown up in Newport surrounded by pets, was now the mistress of champion dairy cows, award-winning Berkshire hogs, and blue ribbon sheep. She had spent years revamping the North Carolina State Fair, attending county fairs, creating agricultural clubs for boys and girls, and making speeches both in person and over the radio.
Many who had heard that Edith was retiring from her post simply believed she was tired. Those people were wrong. On the contrary, Edith had her eye on a bigger political prize. She would be taking to the campaign trail with Senator Peter Gerry as his most important aide and confidante: his wife.
Whenever she felt afraid of this new step she was taking, Edith would remember what the Charlotte Observer said about her first speech as president, the one she had feared so violently that her hands shook and her voice wavered. She had walked off the podium feeling exhausted but proud—and not altogether sure of how she had done. But it had been deemed “the smartest 15-minute speech to a joint session of the general assembly heard within the historic walls of the state house in a long time.”
She had faced her fear then; she would face her fear now—even if it was of a slightly different kind.
“Darling,” Edith said, turning to her daughter. “I need to talk to you.”
Edith had wondered if she would ever be ready to move forward, to let another man take the place that had once been occupied by George. But, on Cornelia’s wedding day, something had happened to Edith, something shifted. As she’d placed the family veil on her daughter’s head, Edith felt as strongly and truly as she ever had that she was passing the torch. For so many years, the care and keeping of Cornelia had been Edith’s responsibility. But now, with the passing of an heirloom, she felt she could pull back from that. Cornelia was a grown woman with her own family now. Next month, on her twenty-fifth birthday, Cornelia would inherit Biltmore and receive the money that would make its upkeep in its original fashion possible. Edith knew that it was time for her to think about what would make her happy again.
“Are you all right, Mother?” Cornelia asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“I am wonderful, my dear. Positively wonderful. I am a grandmother, for heaven’s sake, the greatest of all rites of passage.” She paused, casting the line again with a practiced flick of the wrist.
She smiled, thinking of her news, of Peter Gerry, of how he had asked so many questions about her life here at Biltmore. Edith had known Peter and his wife, Mathilde, for many, many years, their paths crossing often during her life in Washington. They were a dynamic duo, a Washington power couple. Peter, the handsome senator, was the great-grandson of Elbridge Gerry, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and Mathilde had inherited one of America’s most outrageous railroad fortunes—and, if the rumors were to be believed, tempers.
Edith had never seen that side of Mathilde, but she knew she could be quite competitive. She tried to stay out of society gossip, but even Edith couldn’t help but be amused when the word around town was that Mathilde had purchased a strand of black pearls belonging to the Prince of Russia to supposedly keep up with her friend and competitor Evalyn McLean, who had purchased the Hope Diamond. The pearls were said to be ill-fated, and Edith had heard whispers that the marriage of Mathilde and Peter was no more. Because of the pearls, many said. Others believed the split was due to the arguing. Edith had seen enough in her life to believe that perhaps both were true.
She hadn’t expected to get more information as close to the source as she did that January. Edith had been anticipating this particular speech in Memorial Continental Hall for days. Helen Keller was set to address a benefit for the American Foundation for the Blind, a worthy cause in which Edith was quite interested. She walked inside the beautiful building, noting that its embellished balconies were already full of well-heeled society women—and a few men. She pulled her fur-trimmed coat tighter around her to stave off the chill of the evening and, looking around to find her group, felt a touch on her arm.
She turned and found herself, an instant later, embracing her friend Peter Gerry.
“Edith!” he said, pulling back from her. “It has been too long. You look sensational.”
She smiled demurely. “You too. I’m so glad to see you.” Then she remembered her friend’s recent misfortune. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” she said. “Are the rumors true?”
He smiled. “They are. But why should you be sorry? I’m certainly not.”
She put a gloved hand to her mouth to cover her laugh. “Mathilde is a perfectly lovely woman.”
“Yes, yes. Perfectly lovely until she doesn’t get her way… But I wish her well and all of the appropriate things.”
Edith smiled. “Well, I should be off to find my friends—”
“Shall we sit together?” Peter interrupted.
She glanced over his shoulder, spotting her usual group, but decided her companions would be all right without her. Besides, Peter had always been a good friend and she hated the idea of him being there alone. Although, as handsome as he was in his three-piece suit, she couldn’t imagine his being alone for long.
“Does the town know?” he whispered as they sat down among the throngs of other participants. Even at six feet tall, Edith had to adjust her position to see over the hat of the woman in front of her.