Spoilers for Gilded Age Season 3 Episode 4
“Be quiet and let me enjoy this.”
I almost said this to my 2-month-old daughter who was resisting sleep before I remembered that I am, in fact, not Bertha Russell.
Because Bertha did say that. To her daughter, Gladys. On 5th Avenue. In a wedding gown that probably cost more than Jeff Bezos’s entire ceremony,* as Gladys was sobbing as she vowed to “love, obey, and cherish” a man she barely knew.
*No clue what that dress cost in Julian Fellowes’ alternate universe, but that’s the price of status, baby. At least for Mrs. Russell. The rest of her family? Not so much.
George did his best (in a devastatingly sexy silk robe, I might add) to get Bertha to call it off at the last minute. He failed. He couldn’t keep his promise that Gladys might one day marry for love. Though, to be fair, he earns a few brownie points for at least giving her the option to back out — even if it would’ve been social suicide.
Larry Russell, on the other hand, seems to be the only one in that house with enough backbone to stand up to Bertha. He and his mother traded blows over whether his aunt, Bertha’s sister, should be invited to the wedding. Hopefully, he keeps that strength when it comes to matters of the heart, and his love for Marian.
Marian’s had her share of heartbreak, and I hope Larry doesn’t become one of them. Whether or not she’s up for going toe-to-toe with Bertha remains to be seen. But maybe, with Aunt Agnes in her corner, she has a fighting chance. In a rare moment of tenderness, Agnes tells Marian:
“But my eyes do open, and I can see through them. Mrs. Russell would be lucky to get you.”
Ada, meanwhile, has moved on from her temperance crusade and is now hiring spiritualists to commune with her dead husband. Sure. Why not.
Back in New York, Jack has officially become the neighborhood’s newest millionaire. Apparently, the offer for his clock design was $600,000 in 1884—which would be nearly $19 million today. His future is golden… as long as Larry doesn’t mess it up. Or Oscar. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past either of them.
Downstairs in the Russell house, hearts are still breaking. Chef Borden confesses his love to housekeeper Mrs. Bruce, only to find out she’s already married. Her husband? Confined to an asylum. Because of course he is.
And then there’s Peggy, who is absolutely slaying in Newport—talking about real issues, writing like fire, and refusing to play nice for people who don't deserve it. Her (hopefully future) mother-in-law called her writing “angry” and “unladylike,” because heaven forbid a woman has something to say 🙄. But Peggy’s calm, pointed response?
“I intend to be a loving wife and mother—and have the vote.”
Icon.
Extra applause for Mrs. Scott, who swiftly reminded Mrs. Kirkland that her husband is, in fact, an important businessman. And somehow, miraculously, Dr. Kirkland turned out to be an absolute cinnamon-roll sweetheart. I’m dying for him to kiss Peggy already.
As we near the midpoint of the season, The Gilded Age continues to deliver: sizzling banter, scandalous glamour Elon can only dream of, and heartbreaks that sting just enough to keep us watching.
Yes, NYC costs. And this is the Gilded Age. But Bertha Russell doesn’t get outdone—even by modern standards. Not on principle.
That was the tragic, jaw-dropping conclusion to Episode 4. Bertha married her daughter off to the Duke of Buckingham—not for money (George paid him)—but for status.
“That’s just how it was,” you might say.
But let me enlighten you: even in the 19th century, everyone in that church, and those peering from their carriages, were horrified. And since Fellowes seems to be drawing inspiration from real-life Gilded Age princess-turned-duchess Consuelo Vanderbilt, it tracks. Most of society didn’t approve of her forced marriage either.
See: Charles Dana Gibson’s satirical cartoon of the event. High society knew. And so do we.
