There are those girls who will choose friends only for the other girl’s brothers. One must be chary of such friends, but one cannot avoid them entirely—it is, after all, a very useful tactic that your daughter may someday rightfully employ.
—MRS. HAMILTON W. BREEDFELT, COLLECTED COLUMNS ON RAISING YOUNG LADIES OF CHARACTER, 1899
THE GIRL WHO RETURNED TO THE MAIN SCHOONMAKER ballroom was indifferent to the lack of ornament in her hair or relative sparseness of baubles on her person. She didn’t worry about the modesty of her posture or the kindness of her expression. She was unconcerned with whether she had been nice or not. She was not nice. She did not want to be like her childhood friend Elizabeth Holland anymore. She wanted to be like her new friend Penelope Hayes, and Penelope had promised to show her how. At least, she had promised to lend the glow of her presence, and to invite her along to all the right places, and that would be enough. That was really all she needed. When she reached the spot where she had left Mr. Longhorn, she saw that he had just engaged Mrs. Schoonmaker for a dance. She found that standing there patiently for the right length of time was sufficient to persuade Mr. Hayes to ask the same of her.
“Carolina, are you and my sister very good friends?” he asked as they moved onto the dance floor. Lina’s dress, which she had charged to Mr. Longhorn’s account at Lord & Taylor, moved along behind her. It was made of a flattering navy that encased her arms and waist and was embellished at the bustline with tiny pearls that offered a pleasing contrast to the skin below her collarbone.
“Yes, very good friends,” she answered. Having said it, she smiled. “Though of course we haven’t known each other long. I’m new to the city.”
She had dreaded the idea of dancing, although she knew that if she really did begin traveling in the moneyed world, she would have to eventually. She had gone so far as to prance around her hotel room trying to remember the steps she had helped Elizabeth practice when she had first started lessons with the finishing governess. Carolina was surprised to find that now, with the glow of confidence that came from having new friends in excellent positions, it was easy enough to reference her western origins as an excuse for any lack of polish and allow herself to be led. When she was led, Carolina Broad danced just fine.
“I hope you aren’t planning to leave us any time soon,” her partner said with an upward twist to his full, shiny lips. It occurred to her that this, her first dance at a society function, was with a bachelor close to her own age. How preferable that was—for the first time, anyway—to old Mr. Longhorn, however kind he had revealed himself to be.
“Oh, I think not.” Carolina’s eyes grew wide, and she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her answer. The room, with its gilded decorations and painted faces, with its high laughter and low murmurs, with its bowers of pine and glittering Christmas stars, was circling around her at an exhilarating pace. That pace, she thought, could be the pace of her life. It would be a shame to leave the city now, she reasoned, when she was just getting somewhere. Staying a little longer, and really polishing herself, would be the smarter thing to do. “I like it here, and anyway, where else is there to go?”
Grayson looked into her eyes with perfect understanding. “Having spent some four years abroad now, I cannot say I agree more. And I’m glad you’ll be staying. If you’re a friend of Penelope’s, then there are some gentlemen to whom I will have to introduce you….”
And later on he did. By the end of the evening her feet were sore from dancing, and her cheeks were permanently flushed from all the compliments she had received. She couldn’t help but think that if Will Keller had been there, she wouldn’t have noticed him in the crowd and that he would have seen clearly what an idiot he’d been for passing her up that night in the carriage house. For she had been partnered with Nicholas Livingston and Abelard Gore and Leland Bouchard, an heir to the Bouchard banking fortune, whose hand sat very low on the small of her back and who demanded several times to know when he would next see her out.
Later, in the carriage on the way back to the hotel, Carolina would remark with full honesty that it had been a very merry Christmas indeed. The street ahead was covered in a layer of white that had only been disturbed by one or two vehicles ahead of them. The wide mansions, made of imported stone and festooned with all sorts of architectural flourishes, passed slowly as they moved up the avenue. Light flooded their entryways, and seasonal decorations could be seen in their windows. It seemed to Carolina at that moment that, if things kept going her way, Will would see her name in the paper for sure, and then he would have to come looking for her, instead of the other way around. She had to put her hand over her mouth to hide the smile, for she was thinking how bright the New Year would be.