“George’s dream is here, Jack—it was never Cornelia’s,” she said sadly. “This was George’s dream and, in the end, it didn’t make his daughter happy. And now here we are.”
Jack looked down at his hands and laughed ironically. “She felt trapped in the largest home in America.”
Edith couldn’t imagine how terrible it must be to feel trapped in a life that had been predetermined for you. Because, yes, Edith’s life had been difficult, but it had also been filled with bright, blazing moments of glory. It had been unpredictable, but she had become her own woman, a woman strong and fiercely independent, capable and wise. Now, her daughter was at that crossroads, and Edith had tried to fix it. But it wasn’t up to her. It was up to her daughter.
“If she doesn’t come back in a few months, I can go after her,” Edith said. “I can make her come home.” Edith wanted to weep. Cornelia had been her best friend since she was a child, her most likely companion. They were almost one person. And then, fiercely, abruptly, they had become two, divided. Her grandmother had been right all those years ago. They were no longer united. The house had fallen.
“Edith,” Jack replied, sounding much older than he was. “I think we both know that no one can make Cornelia Vanderbilt do anything she doesn’t want to.”
Edith knew. All that was left to do now was let her go.
“Are you going to divorce her?” Edith asked, stupidly. How could he not? Cornelia had abandoned him. More than once, really.
“I’ll leave that up to her,” he said. “I don’t want to cause her any more coverage in the press than necessary. If she wants to divorce me, she can announce it herself. Until then, I’ll wait and hope that whatever she’s going through is a phase, that she’ll miss me, Biltmore, our life. That she’ll come back home.”
It struck Edith then that this was a great love, the one her son-in-law had for her daughter. She couldn’t imagine many men who would resist the urge to get the last word in, who would protect her daughter even at the worst.
Edith didn’t respond, as she was trying to regain her composure.
“But Edith,” he said, this next part clearly paining him, “the mistress of Biltmore is still gone. There’s the house. And the farm. And…”
“Jack, you know as well as I that the house belongs to Cornelia. It’s up to her. But, if she asks, it’s my opinion that you should stay here as long as you like, as long as you feel comfortable. You have been invaluable to me, Jack, to this family. It will be the boys’ one day, and they might as well enjoy it as much as they can.” In spite of everything, George’s legacy would live on for another generation. She smiled with pride at the thought. The house that the Vanderbilts had ridiculed, George’s Folly, was one of the only Vanderbilt mansions left standing.
“No matter what happens with you and Cornelia, George and William will bond us forever. As will Biltmore.”
Jack stood and smiled sadly at his mother-in-law. “Well, there is work to be done.” He paused. “Will you stay tonight?”
Looking around the library, all Edith saw was George, even though she had a life now with Peter. She and Peter were politically aligned, and he believed as strongly as she did in the women’s movement, in equality, in helping the less fortunate with real change. But no, she would admit, Peter was not her great love. That space would always be reserved for George.
Edith was about to say that she would stay at the Frith that night, the house she shared with Peter. But then Thank you, dear Edi rushed through her mind. With no warning whatsoever, the voice that had been lost to her returned.
“You know, Jack,” she said, “I think staying would be very nice.”
* * *
When she was alone again, Edith confessed, “George, for all this time, I have been a woman caught between two worlds.”
She wasn’t sure if his spirit was really there, but in her heart, Edith knew George would know what she meant. Edith was a woman of a bygone era, fighting to keep a house that was nothing more than a relic now, a woman who had given so much of herself and her life to preserving the memory of a man. But then, also, she was a woman on the forefront of a revolution that would change the trajectory of America, making the past she was so desperately trying to preserve irrelevant. She thought of her daughter, and she understood a little more how you could be two people at once.
You aren’t caught between two worlds right now, Edith, the voice replied simply. Right now, you are home.
Edith smiled, closing her eyes, remembering her mother’s proclamation to her six-year-old self. She would be a princess; she would live in a castle. For a time, she had. It had all come true. She could almost see Biltmore as it had been. The dozens of servants bustling about, mending, cleaning, serving, cooking, entertaining as gaily and brightly as had ever been seen in this country. The thousands of acres where children roamed, gentlemen hunted, and ladies fished in clear flowing streams. The bright sunny porches where books were read and great thoughts formed, plans discussed and futures melded.
She imagined herself in her palace fit for a queen, where breakfast, instead of being eaten in bed, was served in the oak-paneled parlor between her bedroom and George’s so that his was the first face she saw in the morning. So many nights she had fallen asleep next to him, with the light of the moon, which always shone brighter in Asheville, filling the dark corners of her favorite place. The wind would rustle through the trees, singing a lullaby sweeter than any voice, and with her beloved beside her, her baby down the hall, Edith would sleep peacefully, not a worry in the world.
For once, Edith was where she should be. The smell of honeysuckle in the air and the fresh breeze blowing through the open windows made Edith, for a time, no longer a Gerry. She was a Vanderbilt once again.
Time would pass, the world would continue to change. But one thing remained true. Edith opened her eyes and said, softly, “As long as Biltmore stands, George, I will have a piece of you and you will have a piece of me.”
And even when it doesn’t, George replied, I will love you still.
Edith closed her eyes again, tears spilling down her cheeks. Somewhere, lost in time and space and memory, the pealing laughter of Tarheel Nell would fill empty halls, and celebrations with friends would soothe broken hearts. Edith’s dream. George’s dream. It had not died. It could not die. No, as long as Edith was here, as long as Biltmore stood proud, her perfect family, those idyllic days, would continue to exist. George’s dream would live on.
JULIA It’s You
It had taken six months. Six months for everything, really. Six months for me to walk across a stage and receive a diploma that I knew I had really, truly earned. Six months for Babs and me to decide, once and for all, that we must dispose of the Vanderbilt veil in the proper way. （What that was, we weren’t sure. It wasn’t like an American flag, where the protocol was stipulated.） And six months—along with his engagement to the woman he’d cheated on me with—for me to truly accept, deep down, that Hayes was not the one for me. When the habit of leaning on him had faded, I realized that I was finally standing on my own two feet. The thing that scared me most was that now, months later, I barely thought of him. I didn’t hate him, didn’t miss him. He simply did not occur to me. What a terrible thing to think… But it was the truth. My truth. It had taken separating myself from Hayes, walking away, to discover what that was.