On Sunday evening, Pandora cleared the dessert plates from Riverview’s dining room while Maude and Virginia chatted at the table. Archie had gone upstairs to his room, and Robert Van Luyen was in his study, smoking a cigar. Earlier that day, Pandora had described to Virginia Owen’s proposal to Lillian. It still hurt: Lillian’s glee when she discovered the jewelry box under the hood. The way the other girls clustered around her. What hurt more than anything, though, was knowing that Owen had never loved Pandora.
“Vivian Clarkson is holding a bridal tea at Beechtree for Lillian next Sunday,” Maude said, sipping her glass of port. Maude was a stout woman with thin lips and dyed brown hair. She wore a floral ankle-length dress with full sleeves, a rope of pearls hung around her neck.
“Lillian got engaged yesterday, isn’t it a bit soon for a bridal tea?” Virginia asked. She flashed a cheeky smile. “Or had Vivian and Lillian been planning the tea for weeks, betting on when Owen would propose as if it were a horse race at Saratoga Springs?”
“Vivian was going to hold a welcome tea for Lillian anyway, it’s a perfect excuse,” Maude commented.
“Well, I can’t go,” Virginia declared. “The New School is holding a lecture on the literary legacy of Fanny Fern. Did you know that besides being a successful children’s author, Fanny was the highest paid columnist of her day? In 1855, she was paid one hundred dollars a week for her column in the New York Ledger.”
“I won’t allow it. You don’t know what kind of people attend those things.” Maude pursed her lips. “The Clarksons are important people, I already said you’ll go.”
Virginia set her sherry glass on the table. She knew when her mother wouldn’t change her mind.
“All right, I’ll go,” she relented. She glanced at Pandora. “But Pandora is coming with me. If I have to spend an afternoon with young women who’ve only heard of Romeo and Juliet because wearing a Juliet cap headpiece on your wedding day is all the rage, I need Pandora beside me.”
At first, Pandora thought the last thing she wanted was to attend Lillian’s bridal tea. And what would she wear? But just then, she had an idea. She realized what she could do with a roomful of Hyde Park society women. She may not be able to afford to open a boutique, but perhaps she could start by selling her dresses to Hyde Park women by word of mouth.
She could take the money her father had set aside for secretarial school and use it to buy fabric instead. Then she would sew gorgeous dresses for Virginia and herself to wear to the tea. Dresses unlike anything the women of Hyde Park had seen before. The older women in the Van Luyens’ circle might stick to fashion designers they knew, but girls Pandora’s age were more open to trying new things. And they admired Virginia. They would clamor to buy a gown similar to what she was wearing.
The more she considered her plan, the more excited she became. She was certain Virginia would help her, and she wanted to let her in on her plan immediately, but after dinner Maude whisked Virginia away to evening services at church.
The next morning, Pandora set aside her heartache over Owen and went straight to the bank. The teller handed her an envelope containing $186.29. She had never held so much money in her life.
Her father would be furious if he knew what she was doing. But this was her only option. She couldn’t bear the idea of going to secretarial school and toiling away for years until she saved enough to open a boutique. This would give her the head start she needed.
At the fabric store on Main Street, Pandora sifted through bolts of muslins and ratinés, a new blend of silk and cotton that resembled linen. The muslins were pretty, and the ratinés came in forty-two colors, but neither of them would do. The girls at Lillian’s tea were used to their mothers buying their dresses abroad. The fabric Pandora chose had to be special.
“I have just the thing,” the saleslady said when Pandora explained what she wanted.
She brought out a catalog and placed it on the counter.
“We don’t keep the fabrics on the showroom floor; we can’t risk getting handprints on them,” the saleslady said. “You can look through the catalog.”
Pandora flipped through pages of the most beautiful fabrics she had ever seen: crepe de chine and crepe georgette, a chiffon that appeared light as air, a hand-embroidered lace, and a silk where the hue changed from pink to blue. The colors had names Pandora had never heard of: dusty pink and leaf green and old rose.
“How much is the crepe de chine?” Pandora inquired.
The saleslady named a price per yard that made Pandora gulp. The dresses would need embellishments too: pearl buttons, lace trim, glass beads to give them weight so they didn’t flutter around when one moved.
“I’ll take six yards in thirty-two-inch width,” Pandora counted out the money in the envelope.
“You won’t be sorry,” the saleslady rung up her purchase. “Any dress in that fabric will look like it was made in Paris.”
When Pandora arrived at Riverview, she found Virginia curled up on the sofa in the morning room. The sun made patterns on the Persian rug, and vases were filled with lilies of the valley.
“I met the most wonderful female poet at Byrdcliffe.” Virginia put down the book she was reading. “Her name is Hilda Doolittle, she goes under the penname H.D. Since Mother won’t let me go to the lecture at the New School on Sunday, I’m going to her reading on Saturday instead.”
Pandora wondered if part of Virginia’s interest in Byrdcliffe was Wolfgang, the poet she had mentioned. This wasn’t the time to discuss it, though. Pandora had to tell Virginia about her idea.
“I’m sorry that I suggested you attend Lillian’s bridal tea,” Virginia continued on. “It’s probably the last place you want to be.” She smiled wickedly. “Though we could put molasses in the bottom of Lillian’s teacup. That always worked with Archie when I was angry at him.”
“It’s not your fault that Owen proposed to Lillian,” Pandora offered. “Anyway, I have an idea and I need your help.”
Virginia listened while Pandora described her plan.
“I’ll have to sew both dresses in five days, but I think I can do it,” Pandora finished. She looked at Virginia anxiously.
Virginia sprang up and strode over to the telephone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling Beechtree to make sure you’re invited,” Virginia announced, a smile curling around her mouth. “We’re going to upstage Lillian at her own bridal tea. I can’t imagine anything more fun.”
Pandora spent hours at the sewing machine every night after everyone went to bed. She couldn’t let her father find out what she was doing, and she still had to help Esther in the kitchen during the day.
Finally, on Sunday, the dresses were finished. Virginia’s dress was bottle-green crepe de chine. The bell sleeves and tiered skirt would swish when she walked, and Pandora sewed glass beads to the hem. Her own dress was dusty-pink crepe de georgette. The skirt was shorter than what she usually wore. It was streaked with gold thread and terribly full. It would look striking on her slender figure.
The Van Luyens’ chauffeur, Daniel, drove Pandora and Virginia to Beechtree. Virginia muttered that her mother only offered the chauffeur because she was afraid that if Virginia drove herself, they wouldn’t actually make it to the party. Pandora didn’t care why Daniel took them. When they arrived, it felt wonderful to be helped out of the car by Daniel in his smart chauffeur uniform with gold buttons and black cap.