Pandora was glad to see that Archie sat at the same table as Owen. Archie wore the traditional top hat and tails, but the formal wear looked rakish on him thanks to the yellow pocket square that peeked out of the breast pocket. Owen also wore a top hat and tails. He was the epitome of elegance with his gold cuff links and a stiff-bosom shirt with a wing collar.
“I was wondering where you went,” Archie said to Pandora. “I can’t find Virginia anywhere, and Lillian’s gone off with a headache. I was afraid I’d have to talk to this guy all night.” He motioned to Owen.
“Lillian isn’t feeling well?” Pandora asked.
“She came down with a migraine,” Owen replied. “Poor thing, she really does suffer from being too long in the sun.”
“More like hung over from drinking half a bottle of champagne in the afternoon.” Archie grinned.
Pandora stifled a laugh. Archie’s playful digs always improved her spirits. He was like a large, gentle dog, pushing at you with his nose.
“I hope she’s better in time for the dancing,” Pandora said, resisting the urge to kick Archie under the table.
The waiter set down bowls of clam chowder, and Pandora suddenly felt better. She was sitting across from Owen on the terrace at Rosecliff. Perhaps Owen had only been being polite to Lillian earlier. The Clarksons were new to Hyde Park, and they were the Winthrops’ guests. Pandora assured herself that he loved her and everything would be all right.
“Pandora is a great dancer,” Archie said. “A few years ago, my mother hired a dance teacher to come to Riverview. Pandora could waltz perfectly after two lessons; it took Virginia and me weeks to master the steps.”
The dance lessons were conducted in the Van Luyens’ ballroom. Pandora was only included because Virginia was paired with the dance instructor and Archie needed a partner. Virginia hated waltzes, she preferred the foxtrot and Charleston. Once Archie learned the steps, he was a wonderful dancer. It came as naturally to him as walking.
“I’ve rarely known a girl with so many talents,” Archie went on, toying with his soup. “Besides tennis, Pandora is good at croquet, and we’re always fighting over who gets to be her partner in board games. I’ve never lost a game of Pegity with Pandora as my partner.”
Pandora knew what Archie was doing. He was trying to make her look good in front of Owen. It was sweet of him, but Pandora worried that he might go too far. It was better if she turned the conversation to Owen. She had to get back the sense of intimacy they had shared by the river last month.
“Archie told me you’re going to join Winthrop Motors after graduation.”
Owen’s eyes lit up. He put down his napkin.
“Wait until you see next year’s Winthrop GT40. Its top speed is sixty-five miles per hour, and we’re introducing our first sport coupe.”
“You should take an engineering class at Princeton,” Archie said cheekily. “It would be more valuable than that course you took last semester on the Ming dynasty.”
Owen adjusted his gold cuff links so they didn’t touch his soup.
“The art history professor gave As to everyone who attended the exhibit at the Met. And engineering classes have too much homework.” Owen dipped a bread roll into the soup. “I’d rather spend my evenings playing billiards at the eating clubs.”
After dinner, Pandora danced with two men she didn’t know, and took a break to watch other couples on the dance floor. It reminded her of the big top at the circus when the performers and animals came together for the final encore.
The female guests wore all styles of gowns. Dresses with dropped waistlines and large sashes, beaded gowns with elaborate bows, and dresses with shockingly low-cut backs. Their hair was held back by rhinestone combs, and Pandora noticed a few tiaras. One woman carried a feather boa that kept getting in her partner’s face as they danced.
The men were all dashingly handsome in topcoats and trousers with satin stripes. Some of the young set wore the new style of tuxedo dinner jacket and white waistcoats. A few even wore soft collared shirts instead of the more traditional winged variety that Owen wore.
Pandora loved all of it. She kept touching the diamond-and-sapphire choker as if to remind herself she really was part of the party.
The song ended, and Owen crossed the dance floor. His hair was damp, and his cheeks were flushed from either dancing or more champagne.
“We haven’t danced yet. I don’t want to miss out,” he said, standing beside her.
“No, we haven’t,” Pandora replied. She glanced around to see if Lillian was anywhere on the dance floor.
Owen held out his hand. “We better dance now. They’ll play a fast number next, and that won’t be half as enjoyable.”
The band played “The Man I Love” by Gershwin, and Owen placed his hand on her back. Pandora had never experienced such happiness. Owen was tall enough that her head fit under his chin, but not so tall that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. And he held her so close, she was certain they were dancing closer than other couples.
When the song ended, she hoped he would ask her for the next dance. Instead, he led her to the side. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief and took two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.
“You do look lovely this evening. I can’t get over how pretty you are,” Owen said, handing her a glass of champagne. “I’ve rarely seen you in anything but a white tennis skirt and long cardigan.”
Pandora basked in Owen’s praise. She had to make him see that she fit in with his social set. Not just on the tennis court but anywhere.
“I’m like any girl, I love nice clothes,” she said lightly. “It’s a wonderful party. I can’t wait until tomorrow. Virginia said there would be fireworks and a treasure hunt.”
“Mother loves her treasure hunts; she misses the Easter egg hunts we had when we were children,” Owen said. “At least our party is early in the season. By the time school starts in September, I’ve drunk so much champagne, I can’t stand the taste.” He smiled. “Though hardly anyone drinks champagne at Princeton; the bartender at my eating club makes the best sidecars.”
Pandora had read about Princeton’s Eating Clubs in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, This Side of Paradise. There were seventeen clubs, all lined up in a row on Prospect Avenue. They had names like Ivy Club and Cap and Gown Club, and only men of a certain social pedigree were invited to be members. The houses had their own ballrooms and held parties called “Boxers and Blazers” and “Butts, Butts, Butts.”
“The Enrights are having a house party at the end of the month,” Owen said. “You should come.”
“I’d love to, but I don’t know the Enrights,” Pandora replied.
She had heard of them, though. Their summer estate, Blythdale, was supposed to be one of the loveliest in Hyde Park. It sat high on the Hudson surrounded by woodlands and a pond.
“I’ll have Mother get you an invitation,” Owen responded. He pointed across the dance floor. “I should go. I promised Mother I’d dance with Lucy Vanderbilt.”
Owen drifted off and Pandora returned to their table. The waiters had removed the entrée plates and replaced them with silver dessert bowls. Each bowl was filled with cut-up pieces of tropical fruit and topped with a maraschino cherry.