And yet in some ways they were the same. Virginia felt trapped by her own future. Just as Pandora’s father wanted her to go to secretarial school, Virginia’s parents expected her to get married and run a large household just like her mother.
That’s why Virginia was so adamant that young women have choices.
“Wolfgang knows everyone in New York. We’re going to make a list of people to invite. Don’t worry, I’m not going to borrow Archie’s car. I’ll take the train. I’ll be back by Sunday at dinnertime.”
Pandora’s eyes widened.
“You’re going to spend the night at Byrdcliffe?”
Pandora had never asked Virginia whether she was a virgin, but she assumed she was. For all Virginia’s love of the arts, she attended church every Sunday. And like Pandora, she was only twenty.
“Don’t look at me like that, I’ll have my own cabin,” Virginia said in response to Pandora’s horrified expression. “I’m not going to sleep with Wolfgang. I’m not going to sleep with anyone until I’m ready.” She gave a small smile. “Sex should be a woman’s choice, like everything else. I’m not interested in sex right now; I’m much more excited about literature.”
Pandora breathed a sigh of relief. In a way, it would have been nice if Virginia was more experienced. Then Pandora could ask the questions that spun around her head. At the same time, she didn’t want to picture her dearest friend doing things she couldn’t imagine doing herself.
“You’ll be in New York in the fall too. You can attend my salons,” Virginia urged. “There won’t be anyone to stop you.”
But Pandora wouldn’t be in New York in the fall. She hadn’t told Virginia about her failed attempt to get a job.
She picked up the invitation and sighed. Maybe she should attend the Enrights’ house party. Perhaps something good would happen; she had run out of other ideas. And she had to think about her father. Everything he had saved was gone. If she didn’t do something soon, he might never talk to her again. And she couldn’t blame him.
Something inside her turned over and clicked into place. Like the motor on Archie’s car.
“I have to respond to this invitation.” Pandora set the envelope on the table. “Then I’m going to sew a new bathing suit; the Enrights have a swimming pool. I saw the design in Harper’s Bazaar. Yellow and blue stripes with a blue belt.”
Blythdale was even more spectacular than she had imagined. The house was three stories built in the Italianate style, with a low-pitched roof and overhanging eaves supported by stone brackets. Belvedere towers afforded views of the river, and Pandora was charmed by the marble cupola and pedimented doors and windows. Pine trees lined the approach to the house, and a stone fountain stood in the middle of the circular driveway. The grounds boasted a separate garage, stables, and proper English garden.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Archie asked Pandora as he parked his car behind a black Rolls-Royce Phantom. A young man in a straw boater hat jumped out and opened the passenger door for a girl wearing a yellow summer dress and cloche hat. The man took the girl’s hand, and Pandora felt a twinge of envy. They both seemed so happy and in love. They probably did this sort of thing every weekend: drove their fancy car to house parties and enjoyed swimming and dancing.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Pandora pulled her attention back to Archie. “I don’t expect you to take care of me.”
“There’s nothing I’d like better.” Archie grinned. “But I promised Lucy we’d go swimming as soon as I arrived,” he said as he turned off the ignition. “Apparently two dozen roses from the most expensive florist in Hyde Park wasn’t enough to make up for breaking our date.” His expression turned serious. “Owen is a fool; he doesn’t know what he gave up. You’re worth a dozen Lillian Clarksons.”
“Archie, there you are!” Lucy strode toward them. “Everyone’s waiting for us at the swimming pool.”
A straw hat was perched on Lucy Vanderbilt’s blond curls. She wore a cotton caftan with a wide sash tied around her waist that showed off her long, shapely legs.
“I haven’t unpacked my bag,” Archie said to Lucy. “I need to get my bathing trunks.”
“The Enrights have a drawerful in the pool house,” Lucy replied as she took his arm.
Archie turned to Pandora.
“Are you coming?”
Pandora gulped. She wasn’t ready to face Lillian and Owen together.
“Go ahead, I’ll be right out,” Pandora said brightly. “I’m going to find the powder room first.”
Inside, the house was cool and dark; thick curtains shielded the furniture from the sun. The entry had stone floors painted with pink flowers. The walls were the exact color of an avocado, with recessed molding and gold trim. A huge chandelier dangled from the ceiling.
Pandora took what she thought was the hallway leading to the powder room, but it brought her to a library. She poked her head inside. Walnut bookshelves holding leather-bound books lined the walls. A rolltop desk took up the center of the room, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. A spiral staircase led to a second floor of books, where there were leather chairs and a great stone fireplace. The walls were painted a red that was so rich it was almost plum colored, and the floors were covered with floral rugs.
“It’s a wonderful room, isn’t it,” a female voice said. A woman stood next to the window. She looked to be in her late forties. She had light brown hair, wide green eyes, a warm smile, and the smooth complexion of a film star.
“I didn’t mean to barge in,” Pandora said. “I was looking for the powder room and took a wrong turn.”
“I’m happy to have company,” the woman said as she held out her hand. “I’m Adele Enright.”
“Pandora Carmichael.” Pandora shook her hand. “What a beautiful room! I’d love to have a library like this one day, filled with books on fashion. My dream is to be a fashion designer and open my own boutique.”
Pandora stopped. She was babbling to a woman she just met.
“Do you study fashion design at school?” Adele asked.
Adele sat down and motioned for Pandora to do the same.
Pandora was certain that all the other guests at the house party came from wealthy families. She couldn’t tell Adele that her father had wanted her to attend secretarial school, but she couldn’t hide who she was.
Pandora shook her head. “Not at the moment. I live at Riverview; my father is the Van Luyens’ tennis instructor.”
“That’s right.” Adele’s eyes lit with recognition. “Your father is Willie Carmichael. Milton and I saw him play at Wimbledon years ago. All the other players were terrified of his serve.”
She expected Adele to react the way that Lillian did, with a touch of disdain. Instead, Adele’s smile broadened.
“All my children played tennis,” Adele said. “Harley wasn’t very keen, he preferred performing plays,” she said fondly. “I spent a great deal of his childhood watching home productions of The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”