“Oh! Vexations everywhere,” Mother said. “We can’t really trust anyone but each other. And then there’s what she said. She said this young man, this Fitzhugh, has had a string of associations. But it’s too late, of course. Vida simply must marry him. God forbid he doesn’t propose. And then what shall become of us all?”
Vida wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed with her mother for calling him “this Fitzhugh,” or that she had obviously been listening in on Vida’s conversation. “It’s hardly his fault,” Vida replied hotly. “Women just throw themselves at him.”
“Be that as it may,” her mother replied, “it is your reputation that will suffer if this engagement rumor comes to nothing.”
“Really.” Vida sighed in irritation. “We have danced together all of three times; I hardly think anything has occurred that could tarnish me.” But even as she said this, Vida’s eyes burned a little at the thought that her mother was right, that girls’ reputations were ruined all the time over less, and then they were never invited anywhere, and were shut off from the world to grow old alone, and what a terrible waste that was.
“Nevertheless,” said Mother.
“It’s cold tonight,” said Father. “Doesn’t a nice broth and a game of cards sound lovely? What say you, Vidalia, can we stay in tonight?”
“Arnold, you can’t be serious, she must keep it up tonight.”
“But my dear, you just said—”
“Never mind that. Think, Arnold, you must think! If she is absent, another girl might swoop in—if this Fitzhugh is so easily distracted, she cannot miss a chance to meet him.”
“My dear, have you not heard the phrase about absence and the heart growing fonder?”
“Oh really—do you think that’s how I got you?”
“Wasn’t it? Do remind me.”
“It’s not your memory that is the problem, darling. Men know nothing. You can trust me on that.”
And so her parents blathered on in their gentle, anxious way, as they descended from the high deck, through stairways and corridors toward their own well-appointed cabins. Vida was only half listening, nodding just enough that she would seem obedient to both of them. Her mother always won these little exchanges, anyway—and even if they had both been opposed, Vida would have found a way to the first-class dining room later on. For once she had set her sights on something, she did not rest until it was hers.
Five
“Miss Vidalia Hazzard.”
The butler announced her arrival, and then Mr. Selvedge arrived at her side to escort her through the grand first-class salon. Vida felt wonderfully unhurried about her entrance, and also about everything else. She had spent several pleasant hours with Nora getting ready, and she knew herself to be incandescent. The crowd buzzed at the sound of her name. Maybe because of the swirling rumors, or maybe because of her appearance, which was immaculate as usual but possessed that extra brightness that comes with a crush. She was wearing an absolute confection of a gown, tiers and tiers of a pink just slightly redder than white—suggestive of matrimony, without being too obviously a wedding dress. Her dressmaker on Union Square had convinced her to buy the thing some months ago, saying that it was particularly flattering on her. It had been a little too much for any event she had yet attended. But now, with the idea firmly planted in Fitzhugh’s mind, not to mention everybody else’s, the appearance of Vida in a dress that could not but invite a picture of her veiled, at the altar, seemed opportune, and perhaps the perfect stroke to bring her campaign to the brink of success.
The night was perfect, and she felt that she was, too. She accepted Mr. Selvedge’s hand and he escorted her through the crowd to meet the Duke of Devonshire, and his wife, Margarita Hollings-Blue, the famous hostess, and then two young Astors, and a man who had invented a new process of petroleum extraction, and whose entire life was now a grand tour.
“Charmed,” she said to the young man, Henry Dries Stahl, when she had determined he had nothing more of interest to say. She had a creeping suspicion that he might ask her to dance and wanted to get away from him before he did.
“We must play a game of tennis before we arrive in Honolulu,” she said to the Duchess of Devonshire, when she was sure that lady’s friendship was a coup she could undertake at another time.
“Isn’t it strange?” Lilly Adell, the young widow of a department store heir, asked her, just as Vida was trying to escape her company. Lilly, she had just noticed, was sort of drifting with Vida from one cluster of people to another.
“What is?” Vida asked, startled by the peculiar question.
Mrs. Lilly Adell had seemed in a light, elegant mood moments before, but her expression had another quality now. Strange, and rather faraway-seeming.
“This carpet.” She was gazing fixedly at the pattern of exuberant curlicues of purple and gold beneath their feet. “I mean, it’s beautiful, just acres and acres of such beautiful carpet. But it’s all just to make it seem like we’re on land. We’re not! We’re a thousand miles from anywhere, and the ground floor of our building, if you can call it that, is the surface of the ocean, and beneath the surface of the ocean—it’s just a vast unknown, do you see what I mean? It could be mermaids down there, but also monsters.”
“Oh, Mrs. Adell,” Vida said, trying not to laugh at this morose turn. “Did you have too much to drink at lunch?”
“No. It’s just odd, do you see what I mean?”
“That all of a sudden you believe in mermaids? Yes, that is odd.”
“I’m sorry. It’s such a lovely party, yet such a heavy feeling has come over me. The weather’s bad tonight. Don’t you think?”
Vida squeezed her hand. “Have these bores done you in? You don’t have to stay, you know.”
Lilly squared her shoulders in resolve. “Oh, yes I do. I am twenty-five. If I don’t meet a man this year who seems likely to marry me, I am done for. They say you’re the kind of girl the men flock to, and that if I stay by you, I’ll meet some worthy fellows, too.”
“Oh.” Vida shuddered at Lilly’s assessment of her situation. “I hardly think that’s the right mindset in which to meet a man.”
Lilly glanced at the beautiful people leaning on columns, showing off their fine clothes, their enviable social connections, their jewels, and their spouses. They were enjoying being looked at, and looking at everyone else. Vida had heard the story, how Lilly’s husband was trampled in a streetcar accident two years ago, but she had seemed perfectly gay until this moment. “My God, it’s freezing,” the widow said. “Oh, maybe I should go to bed early.”
“Absolutely not.” Vida made her expression very serious. She had not realized what a strange person hid within this beautiful and conventional façade, but she liked Lilly very much for revealing her weirdness now. “Upon reflection, I have concluded you should not be alone tonight. You must stay where there are people and have some fun.” Vida grabbed Lilly’s hands and pulled her toward the fireplace. “Come, let’s pretend to be getting warm while we look around and see who might be worth your time.”