The Wedding Veil(58)
“Know what?”
“That Mathilde is Sumner Welles’s problem now?”
Edith gasped.
“Then I take that as a no.”
Sumner was Caroline Astor’s grandnephew, a well-heeled member of the State Department who ran in their circles. Peter was being flippant, but Edith knew the betrayal must have stung. “Oh, you know those Astors. Always up to no good,” she joked, hoping to lessen the blow he must have been feeling.
“President Coolidge reportedly is very unhappy about the match,” Peter said. “There is even talk of Sumner being stripped of his diplomatic career, so perhaps all’s well that ends well.” He winked.
Edith studied him, deciding whether this could be true, but he only nodded. She had no reason to doubt him. It was only then that she added, “On that note, I hope us sitting together doesn’t cause any rumors.”
He smiled at her and clasped her hand. “Oh, I certainly hope it does.” He paused. “Better yet, let’s make the rumors true!”
Edith smirked. She had plenty of wealthy, handsome suitors, that was for certain. But none quite so young. Peter was, after all, almost seven years her junior. She was certain that the mere sight of her here with Peter would cause a flurry of gossip column stories in the following days. “Peter. Be serious.”
“I am serious. Why not let me take you to dinner?”
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. They could 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. “Of course I’ll be there, Mother. I adore Peter. You know I think he is a perfect match for you.” 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.”