The Life She Wanted: A Novel(23)

Adele turned to Pandora. She seemed to make an effort to put away the past.

“You will. There’s no reason why you can’t have a family and study fashion and open a boutique. I was married at nineteen, I didn’t know what I wanted. It’s different these days. Young women can attend college or go abroad. They have time to figure out what’s important to them. So many things are changing, but there’s still a long way to go.” Adele changed the subject. “I don’t believe in class distinctions. Young men or women shouldn’t be limited by their birth station, only by their aspirations. I feel the same way about marriage. Marriage shouldn’t be about merging dynasties. The only reason two people should get married is because they love and respect each other.”

Pandora listened to Adele with interest. She had never heard anyone in the Van Luyens’ social circle talk this way. At Maude Van Luyen’s afternoon teas, the discussion was often about who was getting engaged to whom and whether their names were in the New York Social Register.

But Pandora didn’t believe that a society woman like Adele could really be so open minded. She thought about how her mother had been treated. After Willie lost Wimbledon, and then was injured in the war, she received no more invitations to cocktail parties at the Astors’ mansion in Newport. And now Pandora was seeing the same pattern play out in her own life.

She had to figure out how to make it on her own. Perhaps Pandora didn’t need to attend fashion school. Instead, she could keep teaching herself from books and magazines. But if she went to secretarial school like her father wanted, she’d have no time to work on her designs—and she still needed to earn back the tuition money she’d spent on fabric.

And even if she did fall in love and get married, her husband probably wouldn’t be able to afford a maid or nanny. In the evenings, she’d be at home, supervising the children, cleaning the house, cooking the meals.

Marrying Owen would have solved all her problems and given her everything she wanted: love, marriage, a family, and the means to pursue her fashion-design dreams. She didn’t know what she would do now.

It was easy for women like Virginia and Lillian Clarkson. They could throw money at their problems. It was different for Pandora. Her dreams would fade away. She’d be left with a few pretty dresses stored in a closet, like her mother’s rack of dresses.

“I’m being the worst hostess,” Adele said. “I’ve talked on and on when you’re just looking for the powder room.” She led Pandora to the door. “I’ll show you where it is, and then you should go out to the pool for refreshments.”

After Pandora brushed her hair and reapplied the lipstick that Virginia insisted she wear, she walked back down the hallway. She heard voices from a room at the end. The door was half open, and two young men stood close to each other. Their expressions were serious, and the taller man crossed his arms, as if they were having an argument.

They moved apart when they saw her.

“I’m sorry,” she said from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The door opened wider. The taller man waved her inside.

“You’re not interrupting, we’re glad you’re here,” he said. “We need someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” she repeated.

“A woman. We’re rehearsing a play, and we don’t have anyone to read the female lines,” he explained. “You can do it for us.”

Both of the men were about her age. The taller one looked familiar. He was very fair, with blond hair that flopped over his forehead, and he had a smattering of golden hair on his arms. He wore white trousers and a white V-necked vest with a blue bow tie, and two-tone Oxford shoes.

Perhaps she had seen him at the Winthrops’ party.

“I’m not good at acting,” Pandora said.

“You just have to read from the script.” He held out a thin book. “It’s for the Triangle Club. That’s the theater troupe at Princeton.” He pointed to the other man. “This is Preston Stevens, the playwright, and I’m Harley Enright.”

Pandora realized why Harley looked familiar. He was the youngest child in the photograph. He must have inherited his blond hair and lean build from his father, but his green eyes and high cheekbones were from Adele.

“Pandora Carmichael.” She introduced herself. “Are you sure you don’t want someone else? Some of the girls here must have taken drama classes.”

Harley handed her the book.

“You’ll do perfectly,” he said with a smile. His teeth were very white. Pandora noticed how handsome he was, and a warm spark shot through her body. “Don’t overdo the love scene.” He waved at Preston. “Preston tends to use flowery language.”

They rehearsed for thirty minutes. Pandora enjoyed reading the lines; it reminded her of the plays she and Virginia and Archie performed as children. Then Preston said he was hungry.

“Would you like to join us?” Harley asked. “We’re going to raid the kitchen.”

“Isn’t there food by the swimming pool?” Pandora wondered.

Harley leaned forward conspiratorially. “Preston tells everyone he’s too pale to go in the sun, but the truth is, he can’t swim,” he confided. “I promised I’d stay with him. Our cook is protective of her kitchen. She doesn’t like guests rearranging the dishes.”