In The Gilded Age season three, tensions are high between George and Bertha Russell. While in past seasons, George has been tolerant of Bertha’s social schemings, he seems to have hit his limit after Bertha forced their daughter Gladys to marry the Duke of Buckingham for his title—despite her being in love with another man.
The fate of their union will unfold over the next several episodes. However, if Fellowes follows the real-life story of William K. and Alva Vanderbilt—the historical inspiration for the fictional George and Bertha—there’s unlikely to be a happy ending.
Alva Vanderbilt married William “Willie” K. Vanderbilt in 1875. They met months earlier at a party his father, William H. Vanderbilt, threw for one of his daughters in New York City. Alva’s best friend, Consuelo Yznaga, introduced her to the wealthy scion. It was something of a lifeline for Alva: her family had lost their fortune, and she needed an advantageous marriage to provide economic stability. Willie, whom she found handsome and charming, fit the bill—both figuratively and literally.
Yet Alva was a woman subject to her times: in the Gilded Age, women were viewed as inferior to men, relegated to the domestic sphere and mostly valued for their beauty. As their marriage progressed, Willie’s eye began to wander. “Given the circumstances, she could not have been surprised when her husband began to spend more time at his club, the racetrack, and the gaming table than he did at home,” wrote Sylvia Hoffert in her book Alva Vanderbilt Belmont: Unlikely Champion of Women’s Rights. “Experience had shown her that, like many of his friends, he was a man easily flattered by women who wished to benefit from a relationship with him.” In other words, Willie began to have affairs.
One with a woman in Paris, Nellie Neustretter, became particularly egregious. William regularly took her out in public to the theater, or drove with her through the streets of Paris. It was Alva’s last straw: “Alva was not prepared to play second fiddle to anyone, let alone her husband’s mistresses,” Hoffert wrote. “And she certainly was not willing to suffer public humiliation at his hands.”
In December 1894, Alva filed for divorce. This was explosive news: divorce meant ostracization from upper class society, who prided themselves on a stable family life—or, perhaps more importantly, the appearance of a stable family life. Her lawyer even begged her to reconsider, as it would air the dirty laundry of the family: at the time, no-fault divorces did not exist… meaning you had to prove fault, which, in this case, was adultery. (“I think now we take divorce for granted, whereas back then it was almost like a death sentence. They were trapped,” The Gilded Age executive producer Sonja Warfield tells Vogue.) Still, she went forth.