Releases October 6, 2026
Preorder on Amazon Kindle
I'm excited to share with you the Prologue and Chapter One of my upcoming novel:
The Mrs. Astor
(A Gilded Age Novel of Caroline Schermerhorn
Astor)
Deanna Lynn Sletten
Prologue
February 1896
Caroline Webster Schermerhorn Astor sat in front of her
dressing table mirror, contemplating the face that stared back at her, reflecting
on her life and the decisions she’d made up until now.
Lines of age and the stress from the past several years were
etched deeply on her face. Her hair, now sparse and gray, made the sixty-six-year-old
woman feel ancient. If it hadn’t been for the dark wigs Caroline wore each day,
she would appear much older in public.
Sighing, she thought about the ball she was hosting tomorrow
night, one of the much-anticipated yearly events of the season. It was her
first ball in over four years, and the first event in her new home at 841 Fifth
Avenue. Because of her dreadful nephew, William Waldorf Astor, she’d been
forced to leave her beloved home of thirty-four years so her son, Jack, could
build a hotel next to Waldorf’s monstrosity. While she did love her new home,
which was connected to Jack and Ava’s home, the stress of moving after having
lost her husband and daughter within a year of each other had been enormous.
But like the good society matron that she was, Caroline had stood tall and done
what must be done.
A soft knock fell on her door, pulling Caroline out of her
thoughts.
“Mama? May I come in?” a gentle voice called through the
heavy door.
Caroline turned to her long-time ladies’ maid, who’d been
hanging up the dress she’d worn that evening. “Please let my daughter in on
your way out,” she said kindly. “Thank you.”
The maid nodded, opened the door, and quietly slipped out
into the hallway as Charlotte walked inside.
“Close the door, dear,” Caroline told her daughter.
“Whatever are you doing up so late? You need your sleep for tomorrow night’s
event.”
Charlotte, wearing her dressing gown and slippers, walked to
a chair near her mother’s dressing table and sat down, wringing a handkerchief
in her hands. Her lovely face, almost three decades younger than Caroline’s,
was fraught with worry lines that should not yet be there.
“Mama. I’m worried about the ball. Are you sure it’s a good
idea to have me host alongside you? What are people going to say behind my back—or
to my face?”
Caroline turned and faced her daughter, pained over the
anxious look on Charlotte’s face. “Lottie, dear,” she said gently. “You have no
reason to fear our guests. Last summer in Newport at the ball we hosted,
everyone was polite to you, despite…” Caroline faltered, then found her words.
“Despite your circumstances.”
“They didn’t dare say anything to my face in front of you, Mama,”
Charlotte said. “But I know they whispered behind my back. I can’t bear
watching them gossip about me again.”
Anger welled up inside Caroline as she remembered how the
ladies behaved last summer. She knew Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, known to all as
Mamie, was the one behind the unkind whispers, and now she wished she’d reprimanded
her for her behavior. But Mamie had been hosting popular dinners and dances for
years, and she held a high position in society. Caroline smiled. But not as
high a position as hers.
Caroline reached for her daughter’s hands and held them
gently. “Darling, please don’t fret. I promise you that no one will dare to
disparage you or your past in front of either of us in my own home. They will
risk being removed from the list of invitees for future events. Even Mamie Fish
understands that.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m still dreading the ball. My
divorce from James was so public, and even after all this time, people will
talk.”
Caroline smiled. “Dear. The ladies in this town are too busy
gossiping about Alva Vanderbilt’s divorce this past year. Yours is old news.
And after four years of mourning, it’s time we fully reenter society. Times are
changing, and so are the opinions of old society rules.”
Charlotte nodded but didn’t look convinced.
Caroline sat up straighter, her head held high. “Lottie. You
are an Astor. We do not cower to anyone. You will stand in the reception line
with your head held high and help me greet each guest with the genteel manners
you’ve been taught. No one will dare disparage you as long as we both stand
strong and firm.”
“Oh, Mama. That’s easy for you to say. No one would dare
even lift an eyebrow around you. But you are Mrs. Astor, the queen of society,
and I am not.”
Caroline laughed
softly. “I have never claimed to be the queen of society, but I am Mrs. Astor.
I make the rules, so therefore, I can break the rules.”
Charlotte’s face broke into a small smile. “I wish I had
your confidence, Mama.”
“It’s in there, dear,” Caroline said. “You are an Astor, and
your confidence will grow through the years. You may have had a mishap in life,
but it won’t knock you down. We will all stand together firmly tomorrow night
and greet our guests with pride, just as we’ve done for the last two decades.
You, Jack, Ava, Carrie, and Marshall will all be beside me. It will be the ball
of the year. Or maybe even the decade!”
“Yes. I’m sure it will be,” Charlotte said as she rose.
“Thank you, Mama, for believing in me. I would be an outcast in society if you
had given up on me.”
Caroline rose too and hugged her daughter. “I would never
give up on any of my children,” she said fiercely. “You are all that matters to
me.”
Caroline watched her daughter leave the room and close the
door. She moved slowly to the bed and sat tiredly upon it. She, too, was
worried about how the women of society would treat her darling Charlotte. Would
they all decide not to attend the ball? Would she and her children find
themselves standing alone in the drawing room? Four years ago, no one in New
York would have dared to embarrass her that way, but things were changing. New
hostesses were changing how balls were run, and the younger crowd no longer
wanted a boring cotillion or a late-night supper. Style and class were falling
by the wayside in favor of more interesting entertainments. But as long as she,
The Mrs. Astor, was leading society, she would continue to rule with an iron
fist and keep society in line. After all, she created the rules of society. She
would make sure to keep them her way for as long as she lived.
Chapter One
Fall 1835
Five-year-old Caroline Webster Schermerhorn, known as Lina to
her family, ran through the grass, past the gardens, and toward the Hudson
River behind her two older sisters.
“Wait for me!” Lina called, her shoes and stockings already
wet from the dew on the grass.
“Stop following us!” seven-year-old Katie yelled back at
her. Her older sister, Cordelia, age twelve, was leading the way.
“But I want to pick wildflowers for Mama, too!” Lina said,
determined to catch up with her sisters.
“You’re too young to be near the river,” Cordelia called to
her. “Go home. I won’t be responsible for you falling in and drowning.”
Lina stopped, pursed her lips, and placed her hands on her
hips. The hem of her dress was already dirty, which was sure to upset her nursemaid.
“I’m not too young,” she said under her breath as anger raced through her.
Determined to catch up with the girls, she took off in a sprint, then stumbled
over a rock and fell flat on her face in the muddy grass.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Cordelia yelled, stomping over
to her baby sister. “We told you not to follow, and now I have to take you home
so you can clean up.”
Lina pulled herself up to her knees and stared down at her
ruined dress. Tears welled in her brown eyes, but she refused to cry. She
swiped them away with her arm, dirtying her face even more in the process.
Katie giggled but knew better than to laugh out loud. Lina was a stubborn child
with a temper and might actually try to fight her.
“Come along,” Cordelia said, helping Lina out of the mud and
leading her home. “Next time we won’t tell you when we want to pick flowers for
mama. You’re such a baby.”
“No, I’m not,” Lina said, but all the fight had left her.
Now, she wouldn’t be able to bring home pretty flowers for her lovely mother
and see her eyes light up with delight.
Later that morning, after her nursemaid had scolded her for
running down to the river and getting dirty, a clean and neatly dressed Lina slipped
quietly into her mother’s morning room. She sat in a chair in the corner,
practically out of sight. She watched as her sweet mother sat at her desk,
writing in a leather-bound notebook. She used one of the new steel-tipped pens
that she expertly dipped in the inkwell, then blotted before writing.
Lina was intrigued by her mother’s work. Last night, the
house had been alive with a fancy ball in which all their relatives and
neighbors attended. The house had shone brightly with oil lamps and candles,
and a band had played music while couples danced. Of course, the children had
not been allowed to attend, but Lina, Katie, and Cordelia had snuck onto the
staircase balcony and watched the beautifully dressed ladies and elegant
gentlemen, then raced back to their rooms before their nursemaid found them.
Now, her mother was writing in her notebook again, as she did after every
event.
“You’re being very quiet,” Helen Van Courtlandt White
Schermerhorn said, her dark eyes glancing up to meet Lina’s. “I hear you had
quite the adventure earlier.”
Lina smiled at her mother. She knew she wasn’t in trouble,
because her mother had always told her she could watch her work at her desk as
long as she was quiet as a mouse. And her muddy outing today only seemed to
bring mirth to her mother’s eyes. She could tell by the way they gleamed in the
sunlight coming through the window.
“Yes, Mama,” she said softly. Her mother always told her a
lady spoke softly and clearly. “I did have an accident this morning, falling in
the mud. But we were off doing a good deed.”
Helen grinned. “Yes. Well, perhaps you shouldn’t cause your
nursemaid so much distress. We don’t want another one to pack up and quit.”
Lina dropped her eyes. “Yes, Mama.” Slowly, she inched her
way toward her mother’s desk. It was made of gleaming dark wood with scrolling gold
trim and had glass doors and shelving above it. The desk opened for her mother
to write on, and several tiny shelves and cubbyholes were hidden inside. Lina
found it magical.
“What are you writing in your little book?” she asked her
mother.
“I’m writing notes about our gathering last night. See?” Her
mother used the tip of her pen to point out the columns. “I keep track of who
was invited, who came, and who didn’t show without telling us. I’m also keeping
notes on which foods were enjoyed and which weren’t. Last of all, I write down
who seemed to enjoy the evening, and who didn’t, or who misbehaved.”
Lina’s little brows furrowed. “How would an adult
misbehave?”
Helen smiled. “What I mean is if they acted inappropriately
toward the other guests or toward your father and me. Sometimes a guest, be it
a man or woman, might be rude or in a foul mood, ruining the evening for
everyone. Or they might gossip maliciously. You know how much I dislike gossip.
If this happens too often, I simply take them off my invitation list for future
events.”
Lina found this interesting. “Do you tell the people they
will no longer be invited?”
Helen shook her head. “Oh, no, dear. Never. It would be rude
to confront them with my displeasure. No, they just won’t be invited again.
That will be enough to let them know something is wrong.”
Lina sat on a small, padded footstool near her mother,
smoothing her dress around her in a way she’d seen her mother and older sisters
do. Being the youngest of eight children, Lina had many older siblings to learn
from.
“What if the person is a close friend or relative?” Lina
wanted to know.
“My goodness,” Helen said. “You are a curious little girl.
Of course, some close friends or relatives can never be eliminated from our
invitation list. That would be very rude.”
“There are so many rules to being an adult, aren’t there,
Mama?” Lina asked, her face quite serious.
Helen chuckled. “Yes, there are. But don’t worry too much
about it now. Someday, when you have your own house and organize your own balls
and parties, you will have enough troubles to worry about.”
Lina’s face became animated. “Oh, I cannot wait. It will be
so much fun, dressing up in pretty gowns, dancing, and eating delicious meals.”
Helen nodded. “Yes, it is fun. But it’s also a good way to
stay connected with friends and family. Now, off with you, dear, so I can
finish my work. Perhaps you can do something to help your nursemaid that will
make up for the mess you made earlier.”
“Yes, Mama,” Lina said, standing immediately. She always
wanted to be allowed in her mother’s morning room, so she did as her mother asked.
Walking out of the room, into the grand entrance hall, Lina
swirled around and around as if she were dancing with a handsome gentleman.
Their home was very large because her father was an important man in the
community. Their family came to America in the 1600s to make their fortune,
which was a source of pride for them all. Everyone she knew was from well-to-do
families, many of them relatives.
Lina made her way up the staircase to her room. She still
lived in the nursery with her sister Katharine, whom she called Katie. Her
older sisters, Cordelia, Helen, and Anna shared a room, and her eldest sister,
Elizabeth, had a room of her own. Elizabeth and Anna were allowed to attend dances
and parties now that they were of age. “To find a suitable husband,”
Lina had heard her mother say. Someday, she’d also be allowed to attend the
parties and find a handsome gentleman of her own.
She envied her two older brothers, Archibald and Augustus,
who were now off at college. They were so much older than she that she hardly
knew them, but both were always kind to her when they were home. She wished she
were free to do as she pleased, as they were.
Smiling to herself, she danced her way into the nursery to
help her nursemaid with whatever chore she was needed for.
Fall 1839
The Schermerhorn house was unusually quiet and had been for
the past few months. Eight-year-old Lina spent more time in the nursery with
her sister, Katie, these days, despite the beautiful weather. Everyone wore
black, and had since May, when her sister, Cordelia, died. At sixteen, on the
brink of becoming a young woman, Cordelia had passed away, and little Lina
still didn’t understand why. All she knew was her mother was always sad, her
father sullen, and everyone in the house tiptoed around, quiet and subdued.
There’d been no parties, balls, or picnics all summer, because the family was
in mourning. Even Lina’s heart was heavy with the loss of her beautiful older
sister.
The past few years had been so much fun, with her brothers
returning home from college and their grand tours of Europe and her sisters
Elizabeth and Helen both marrying in 1838. There was so much joy in the family
and even parties for her sisters that little Lina had been allowed to attend.
But then, Cordelia passed, and now all was silent.
By December, instead of celebrating Sinterklaas with friends
and family because they were still in mourning, Helen brought her two youngest
children, Katie and Lina, with her to the children’s home to distribute cakes
and small gifts to the children in honor of Cordelia. Some of Helen’s family
came along too, bringing treats of their own.
Lina wore a lovely white lace-trimmed dress and a blue coat
with gold buttons. She was so proud to be handing out gifts with the older
ladies. As she walked around the room of little girls and boys, she noticed one
girl sitting alone in a corner, hugging a doll made of rags and yarn tightly in
her arms.
Lina walked up to the girl, who looked to be her own age.
“Will you not celebrate with us?” she asked her.
The little girl had tears in her eyes. “I miss my mother,”
she said. “She’s dead.”
Lina’s little heart dropped. She knew how it felt to lose
someone close, but to lose a mother would be devastating. “I’m sorry,” Lina
said. “I have a gift for you to cheer you up.”
The little girl accepted the gift but didn’t open it. She
continued to hug her homemade doll tightly in her arms.
“What’s your name?” Lina asked kindly. “I’m Caroline, but my
family calls me Lina.”
“I’m Natalie,” the little girl said. “And this is my doll, Annette.
She is the last thing my mother made for me before she died.”
Lina stared at the doll made of faded old clothing, her face
embroidered with blue eyes and a smile. The doll had yellow braids, just like
Natalie’s, and a patchwork dress. “She’s so pretty,” Lina said. “I’ve never
seen a doll like her before.” Lina had dolls at home with painted faces, curly
hair, and beautiful dresses. She’d never seen a handmade doll.
Natalie smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
Helen walked over to her daughter. “Lina, dear. We’re ready
to go home.”
Lina smiled at her mother. “This is Natalie. She lost her
mother.”
Helen’s face saddened. “I’m so sorry, dear. I hope you will
find a kind family soon.”
The little girl nodded, looking shy around Helen.
Helen took Lina’s hand. “Come along, dear.”
As they left the building and said goodbye to their family
members, Lina followed her mother and Katie down the cobblestone street toward
home.
“Do you think I could visit Natalie again?” Lina asked,
looking up at her mother. “She was so sad.”
Helen stopped and looked down at her daughter. “That is so
sweet of you, dear. But that won’t be possible. We have our own relatives and
friends whom you can associate with.”
Lina stopped walking. “Why? She was a kind girl.”
Helen sighed. “I’m sure she is a very kind girl. But, dear,
we give to charity to those in need. We don’t befriend them.”
“Are you saying we are better than they are?” Lina asked,
shocked that her mother would say she couldn’t befriend the little girl.
“No. Not at all,” Helen said sternly. “No one is better than
any other person. Always remember that. It just wouldn’t do for you to visit
the children’s home regularly. Now, no more questions.”
Lina dropped her head and followed her mother home. She had
pushed too hard and now had upset her mother. But Lina had learned a tough
lesson that day. She was allowed to care for those in need but not allowed to
associate with them. While it didn’t settle well with her eight-year-old self,
she knew that her mother wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. She adored her
mother. And that day stayed with her for years to come.
(Copyright 2026 - Deanna Lynn Sletten. You may not copy or distribute without the permission of the author.)
I hope you enjoyed this sample of my biographical historical novel, The Mrs. Astor. It releases on October 6, 2026.
Preorder on Amazon Kindle now.
Paperback and Audiobook will be available after the release date.
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