In the coming weeks, I saw Alice’s insights prove all too accurate. Betty Beale used her pen to slice me up on an almost daily basis. Having weathered plenty of bad press already in my life, I didn’t care all that much that she wrote about how I was barred entry to the regular teas given by Mary Borah—wife of the powerful and longtime Idaho senator Bill Borah—or that Edith Wilson had put the word around town that she would not attend any gathering to which I might also be invited.
What did bother me was the gossip having to do with Joe’s and my relationship. That I had paid Emlen millions in order to cajole her into accepting the split. That Joe didn’t really love me, but rather loved my money. That I had seduced Joe into a tawdry affair. That I had my eyes on FDR and was planning on using my politically connected husband to get all the way to the White House.
None of this, of course, was true. I’d never spoken to Emlen Davies; I’d never offered her a cent. Nor was Joe some shameless fortune hunter, marrying me simply to gain access to my millions; Joe had plenty of money on his own and had little interest in mine. And besides, I was mad about Joe. I did not have my eyes on any other man, and that certainly included the president.
It was mortifying to read all of this, however untrue it was, day after day. Joey and I were blissfully happy together, but we did not exist in a bubble. I’d loved the years I had spent in Washington in my youth, but this was a different time in my life, and I wanted friends. At the very least, I wanted to be able to walk down the street or into a restaurant without the droning of scandalized whispers in my ear.
Though Joe and I laughed it off when we read the papers day after day, if I was being honest, it troubled me how vehemently my new hometown had rejected me and my marriage. And there was more than simply my bruised feelings and wounded ego at stake; Joe’s business and his plans to serve Roosevelt were political in nature. Being a social castoff could hurt any chances he had in his career. It was possible that, in marrying me, Joe had ruined his own future. How could I allow that to be the case?
I decided that if the Washington Old Guard did not want to offer me a place in their club, then I would make a place for myself. I was still energetic and capable, and I had resources at my disposal that made just about anything possible, if only I could ignore the muck and get to work. Put on your good head, Budgie. Business, I decided. I would turn my focus toward my birthright and my first passion—my family’s business. And if I succeeded, I would surprise them all. Heck, I might even end up surprising myself.
* * *
“Mr. Colby Chester, it’s me. Marjorie. How are you?” I had my longtime friend and the head of my company on the telephone line. It was a conversation for which I’d spent days preparing; but now, even though my tone sounded casual enough, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Colby could hear my heart thumping across the line.
“Marjorie, hello. It’s great to hear your voice,” Colby said. “I figured you were off honeymooning somewhere.”
“I was, but I’m back now.”
“How is life in the capital as Mrs. Joseph Davies?”
“It’s great,” I lied.
“Any word on whether the posting will be Paris or London?” Colby asked.
“Not yet. We’re still awaiting word from the president. But we should hear any day now.”
“Do you have a preference?” Colby asked.
“I don’t,” I answered. That was the truth; either option would be a thrill, since France and England were both countries that I loved, and they happened to be our two most important European allies. “But listen to this, Colby. Until we go…there was something I wanted to speak with you about.”
“Of course, Marjorie. You know I’m always here.”
“I…Colby, I would like to join the board.” I paused, drew in a breath. Then I went on: “I’d like to serve as a director.” Silence pulsed on the long-distance line between us. Because I felt the need to fill it, I added, “At General Foods,” and then immediately winced.
After a long pause, I heard Colby’s exhale. And then his voice, emotionless, as he said, “It’s certainly…an interesting idea. And not something that any of us have seen before.”
I nodded, not entirely surprised by his hedging, but motivated to win his support. My own tone, in contrast to Colby’s, was crisp and clear when I replied: “A woman on the board of one of America’s largest corporations—I know it sounds momentous. But times have changed. Why, our First Lady does more for this government than many of her husband’s cabinet members. And besides, speaking of cabinet members, there’s a female in there now.”