The Wedding Veil(97)
He nodded. “Well, maybe not forever… But I bet if you asked Karl Bitter what was the most lasting, the most real—his work in this city, his work at Biltmore, or his life with the woman he loved—I bet he’d choose her.”
I thought back to the boat and our proclamation of how we’d meet again. Of how we’d signal to each other that it was time, that we were ready. Was I ready? Was this it? As if he were reading my mind, Conner winked.
He winked. He remembered. And, just like that, the racing thoughts in my head stopped. He smiled. I locked eyes with Conner. I felt like that gaze conveyed everything I wanted to tell him, everything I needed to say. In that glance was all the nights I’d lain awake longing to feel his lips on mine, to hear his laugh, every morning I’d wanted to call him just to listen to the smooth, calm cadence of his voice telling me it was going to be okay.
It was barely even a choice: I winked back.
It was a perfect moment, a movie moment, and when he touched my cheek, leaned down, and kissed me, it felt so right. A part of me had worried that our romance was just a side effect of being in one of the most beautiful and ethereal places in the world. But here, in this noisy city full of cabs and strangers, cement and grime, I realized that no matter where we were, being with Conner felt perfect.
He took my hand again, and we strolled toward Sarabeth’s for pancakes—and syrup. But I’m pretty sure my feet never touched the ground.
Maybe Conner was right. Maybe the only thing better than discovering what you should do with your life is finding the person you want to spend it with. For me, maybe that was Conner. Maybe it wasn’t. But in life, as in architecture, a little trial and error never hurts.
CORNELIA Companions to the Death
March 31, 1934
Cornelia felt a slight pang when she realized that Gladys and the veil were gone—but of guilt, not loss. She had portrayed the veil as a talisman, an offer of good luck and a bright future. But she knew that it was far from that. Maybe it wasn’t the veil that was ill-fated, though. Maybe it was the life she had tried to live; the life she had been part of. She wished she could blame Jack, but it was she who had fought so hard for a life at Biltmore for so long.
She could feel, even now, how it—along with the impossible, unwavering scrutiny of a public that wanted to know everything about a woman who wanted nothing more than to slip off into the shadows—had driven her to her breaking point, how it had pushed her to the point of madness.
She knew her mother would be devastated if she stayed in England, but Edith had Jack to help her save the estate—a place that had once felt like a beautiful home but had now become a reminder of all her failures.
It was too much for one person to take. And her attempt to disappear was working already. That woman, that stranger? She didn’t recognize Cornelia Vanderbilt, who was, most certainly, one of the country’s most recognizable women.
Footsteps rang through the train car, and she smiled to see her little loves, George and William, running to her. She gathered them up in her arms, kissing their sweaty foreheads. “Did you have quite the adventure?” she asked.
As they answered excitedly, talking over each other, she remembered her father telling her to have as many adventures as she could. Now she was. This year would be an adventure. A new school for the boys would be one too.
As the train pulled into the station, she smiled animatedly at her children. “Boys, you can’t even believe how marvelous this ship is going to be. I bet we could even eat dinner with the captain one night. Would you like that?”
William and George enthusiastically expressed their agreement, but Cornelia’s mind was already somewhere else. She had failed. Failed herself, failed her father.
No, Cornelia decided again as she took her boys’ hands and walked out into the day, her legs feeling stiff and tired but lightening with every step. A new world was out here waiting for her to turn into the woman she was meant to be, a woman her father would be proud of.
For days on the ship to England, Cornelia and her boys ate their meals together, played cards and squash on the deck, swam during the day and listened to the orchestra at night. And what would happen once they arrived at their destination finally sank in: there would be no more breakfasts together and silly jokes. Had she made the right choice? Only time would tell.
It seemed like only a moment later that a porter was unloading the boys’ trunks at the ancient, imposing school, the headmaster there to meet them.
“Are you ready for this?” Judge Adams asked Cornelia.
“I assure you, Mrs. Cecil,” the headmaster said, “your fine young gentlemen will receive the best schooling and the best care available.”
She smiled, looking braver than she felt. “Yes. That’s what my dear husband assures me. And we will be checking in often to be certain of it.” She liked the way it sounded, how she could put it off on Jack, like she was the doting mother who could scarcely bear to part with her children.
Cornelia held her boys close to her and then knelt down, kissing them. “This is going to be an adventure, my darlings,” she said. She was shocked at how stoic her children were as she kissed them again. “Goodbye, Mama,” they said.
She took a deep breath as she turned from them, tears filling her eyes.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Judge Adams confirmed as they got back in the car and pulled away down the school’s long driveway. Cornelia dared not look back lest she lose her nerve and call the whole thing off.