From New York Times bestselling author Shelley Noble comes a thrilling historical novel about the inception of the Colony Club, the first women’s club of its kind, set against the dazzling backdrop of Gilded Age New York.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Shelley Noble’s The Colony Club, which is out now.
When young Gilded Age society matron Daisy Harriman is refused a room at the Waldorf because they don’t cater to unaccompanied females, she takes matters into her own hands. She establishes the Colony Club, the first women’s club in Manhattan, where visiting women can stay overnight and dine with their friends; where they can discuss new ideas, take on social issues, and make their voices heard. She hires the most sought-after architect in New York, Stanford White, to design the clubhouse.
As “the best dressed actress on the Rialto” Elsie de Wolfe has an eye for décor, but her career is stagnating. So when White asks her to design the clubhouse interiors, she jumps at the chance and the opportunity to add a woman’s touch. He promises to send her an assistant, a young woman he’s hired as a draftsman.
Raised in the Lower East Side tenements, Nora Bromely is determined to become an architect in spite of hostility and sabotage from her male colleagues. She is disappointed and angry when White “foists” her off on this new women’s club project.
But when White is murdered and the ensuing Trial of the Century discloses the architect’s scandalous personal life, fearful backers begin to withdraw their support. It’s questionable whether the club will survive long enough to open.
Daisy, Elsie, and Nora have nothing in common but their determination to carry on. But to do so, they must overcome not only society’s mores but their own prejudices about women, wealth, and each other. Together they strive to transform Daisy’s dream of the Colony Club into a reality, a place that will nurture social justice and ensure the work of the women who earned the nickname “Mink Brigade” far into the future.
Chapter 1
August 1902
Newport, Rhode Island
Florence Jaffray Hurst Harriman swept into the drawing room, the lace under her trumpet skirt swishing ominously.
“It’s absolutely outrageous,” she announced, coming to a stop equidistant between the two wing chairs where her husband, Borden Harriman, and their friend Charles MacDonald, who was visiting Newport for the month, were both nose deep in their respective evening papers.
Bordie was the first to look up. He smiled indulgently at his wife.
Daisy recognized that look, but at the moment she was in no mood to be indulged. “You’d think we were living in the Middle Ages and not 1902,” she continued, since neither one of the men seemed inclined to ask her what she was upset about. “It’s the twentieth century, for heaven’s sake.”
“What is it, my dear?” Bordie asked.
“I need to go down to the city for a day or two to run a few errands that I didn’t have time to do before we left for Newport, and since the townhouse is being renovated, I don’t have any place to stay. I just had Miss Gleason call the Waldorf to reserve a room and they refused her. Even though she told them it was for me. The concierge said they did not cater to unaccompanied ladies, no matter who they were. The very idea. I have a good mind—”
Bordie broke in before she could continue. “Well, why don’t you stay with one of your friends? I’m sure Anne Morgan would be glad to have you. Maybe the both of you could travel down and have a nice afternoon of shopping and errands and such and stay at her house overnight.”
“Anne is on the Continent and everyone else is in Newport.” “Have Bordie drive you down,” Charles suggested. “You can
both stay at the Waldorf.”
Bordie put down his paper. “I have no intention of returning to Manhattan; I just arrived in Newport yesterday evening. And I’m certainly not staying at the Waldorf or any other hotel if I can possibly help it.”
Daisy huffed out her exasperation. “That’s because you don’t have to. You can stay at the Union Club, or the Princeton Club, or any of your many clubs and be as comfortable as if you were in your own home, which, I might remind you, is covered in tarps, construction dust, and heaven knows what else.”
“She’s got you there,” added Charles, earning him a sour look from Bordie.
“I suppose I could stay at the YMCA, but Miss Gleason might balk. Private secretaries do not stay at the Y.”
“And neither do the wives of bankers,” Bordie retorted.
“If I had a club to go to, which I don’t, I’d certainly stay—” She broke off. “Oh, Bordie, you’re a genius.”
Bordie, who had just returned to his paper, put it down again. “I shudder to think . . .” he began.
“A club,” Daisy exclaimed. “Women should have a club of their own. Just like the men do. A place where we can stay overnight, have parcels delivered, write letters, make telephone calls, enjoy dinner . . . that’s exactly what we need. How clever of you to suggest it.
“I think I’ll telephone Kate Brice; I bet she’ll be interested.
Hmm, and Alva Belmont. And Maud Bull, and Emmie . . .”
Bordie laughed. “That’s quite a bevy for an afternoon of errands.”
“Sounds more like a tea party,” Charles agreed.
“Oh, no,” Daisy said. “Not a party, a meeting. We’re going to establish a women’s club. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” Daisy whisked out of the room, calling for her secretary and leaving the two men, their papers forgotten, staring after her and no doubt wondering what on earth Daisy was up to now.
