Pandora dipped her dessert fork into the fruit, going over her exchange with Owen. He had complimented her looks, and he obviously enjoyed dancing with her. He had invited her to another house party. All of that boded well.
“There you are,” Archie said as he approached the table. He pushed his hair from his forehead. “You have to dance with me. The last two girls stepped on my toes, and my feet hurt. I need to dance with someone I trust.”
Pandora stifled a laugh. He was exaggerating, of course. All the girls were in love with Archie and wanted to be held close by him. But Archie didn’t want a serious girlfriend. He was happiest reading by the swimming pool or chasing the Van Luyens’ two English setters around the lawn.
“I’d love to dance, but first let me finish my fruit cocktail,” Pandora said. “I know what you were doing at dinner, praising me in front of Owen. It was very kind, but you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Archie sat opposite her. He speared his cherry with a fork. “You’ve grown quite lovely, Pandora, and you don’t even notice it. You should have seen Owen’s face when you walked down that staircase. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“You do say nice things sometimes.” She smiled at Archie. “I’ve had enough fruit cocktail. I’m ready to dance.”
The band struck up “Swanee,” and Archie took Pandora’s hand. Archie was a very good dancer, and he spun her effortlessly around the floor. Other couples watched them approvingly, and she felt a surge of happiness. She felt so at ease with Archie, it was a relief to be in his arms.
The outdoor lights twinkled on the lawn, and candles flickered in the candelabras. Tonight, she belonged on the dance floor at Rosecliff. She was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter Three
July 1926, Hyde Park, New York
The next morning, Pandora came down to breakfast before any of the other guests. She was used to getting up early to help Esther in the kitchen. Maude Van Luyen insisted on a large, formal breakfast even if it was just the immediate family. While Esther prepared the cod fish and bacon, Pandora would make the porridge that Archie ate by the bowlful and lay out the silver coffee and tea set.
She loved arranging the coffee and tea set in the Van Luyens’ dining room. The sun streamed onto the long maple table, and the bird’s-egg-blue china from Tiffany’s looked lovely on the embroidered lace tablecloth. Pandora dreamed of presiding over her own dining room table. She’d serve warm muffins with English marmalade. There would be a pitcher of orange juice, as well as newspapers so she and her husband could read about current events. After breakfast, she’d retreat to her study to sketch a new dress or drive into her boutique in Hyde Park.
The breakfast laid out in the Winthrops’ dining room on Saturday morning was even grander than breakfast at Riverview. There were three different kinds of eggs and a platter of broiled chops and creamed potatoes. The coffee was strong and fragrant, and the maid said Mabel Winthrop brought the jam back from London.
Pandora had hoped she would see Owen, but he didn’t appear. She ate eggs, a slice of toast, and some bacon and went back upstairs to her room.
The door opened and Virginia poked her head in.
“You’re all dressed and it’s not even ten a.m.” Virginia flopped on the bed. She wore crepe de chine knickers and a camisole top with a pink silk robe tied at the waist and satin slippers.
“You can’t go around dressed like that,” Pandora said, horrified. “What if someone sees you?”
“None of the guests are up this early.” Virginia yawned. “They’re all nursing their hangovers.”
“I was wondering why no one was at breakfast.” Pandora sighed. “I thought I was the only one with an appetite.”
“When you attend enough house parties, you’ll discover the only thing that sounds good before noon is tomato juice mixed with vodka,” Virginia commented. “You look much too fresh faced. Didn’t Owen keep you up, plying you with champagne and boasting about his billiards prowess until the small hours of the morning?”
“You and Archie are too hard on Owen.” Pandora turned to the mirror on the dressing table. She knew she was lucky; she had inherited her mother’s classic looks: straight blond hair, a small nose, and high, angular cheekbones. But sometimes she wished she had more unconventional features such as Lillian’s curls or a wide, sensuous mouth.
“Owen said I looked lovely in my dress.” Pandora tugged at her hair with a hairbrush. “And he’s going to get me an invitation to the Enrights’ house party.”
“I didn’t know the Enrights have a tennis court,” Virginia remarked.
Pandora’s cheeks flushed.
“Owen didn’t say a word about tennis,” she retorted. “This afternoon is the treasure hunt, I bet he’ll ask me to be his partner.”
Owen hadn’t said anything about being partners. But Pandora was almost certain he would.
“Tell me about your night.” Pandora changed the subject. “Your light was off when I came upstairs. Did you get home early?”
“Not exactly.” Virginia’s face took on a noncommittal expression.
“Don’t tell me you were out after midnight.” Pandora gasped. “You’re a woman, alone at night. What if you had a flat tire or got stopped by the police?”
“I’m perfectly capable of changing a tire, and I drove too fast for anyone to stop me,” Virginia said, the smile creeping back into her voice. “You should see Byrdcliffe: a dozen wooden cottages built in a clearing and the Catskill Mountains right behind them. There were poets and playwrights. I attended a poetry reading and got this.” She jumped up and stepped out of the room.
She returned a few moments later with a thin book.
“Did the poet give it to you?” Pandora asked.
“I borrowed it from him,” Virginia replied. “We did eat dinner together. Wolfgang read more of his poetry while we ate.”
“Wolfgang?” Pandora repeated.
“Wolfgang Bryant. He’s named for his German grandfather,” Virginia said excitedly. “Wolfgang attended Fordham, he’s twenty-four. He grew up in a house of strong women.” The color in her cheeks heightened. “His mother is a lawyer, she’s one of the first women to argue a case in front of the state supreme court. And his sister is in law school in Chicago, she wants to be a judge. We talked about women wanting careers rather than husbands and children. He agrees there’s nothing wrong with wanting a family, but he also agrees that women should know they have choices.”
Virginia jumped up. She marched back and forth as if she were delivering a lesson in a lecture hall.
“Women can do anything. Edith Wharton won the Pulitzer Prize in the Novel, and Helena Rubinstein and Elizabeth Arden own their own cosmetics companies.” Her forehead knotted together. “But most colleges put more emphasis on finding a husband. There’s a tradition at Smith that the first girl in a class to get engaged runs around the dining table while everyone congratulates her. Getting married is considered more important than graduating.”