Pausing midway through the carriage door with her hand extended, Permilia realized there were no Griswold grooms waiting to help her to the sidewalk. Glancing around, she found the grooms in question assisting the coachman as he tried to get Lucy’s Little Bo Peep hook unstuck from the top of the carriage. Unwilling to wait for assistance because there was still a long line of carriages waiting to deposit their riders, Permilia jumped lightly to the red carpet covering the sidewalk, straightening her tiara when she felt it wobble on her head.
Pretending not to hear Ida’s clucks of disapproval over what was apparently another blatant disregard for the social graces, Permilia lifted her chin. She then made the grave mistake of casting a quick look around.
What she saw had her freezing on the spot, unable to move so much as a single muscle.
People—and what could only be described as a throng of them—were assembled at least ten deep along the sidewalk, some even standing in the very midst of Fifth Avenue, each and every one of them craning their necks as they seemed to gawk Permilia’s way.
Being a lady unaccustomed to people gawking at her, especially since she spent most of her time unnoticed at society events, she found herself at a complete loss as to what was expected of her next. Fortunately, she was spared further scrutiny when Ida sidled up next to her, whispered a sharp reminder to smile, took a painful grip of Permilia’s arm, and towed Permilia along the red carpet. Lucy soon joined them, gliding along at Permilia’s side, waving to the crowds as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to walk along on a red carpet.
What seemed hours later—but had in actuality been only minutes—Permilia stepped into a well-appointed entranceway, keeping her smile firmly in place as Ida handed their formally engraved invitations to the butler. Once he bowed them forward, Permilia found herself steered down a long hallway by a Vanderbilt footman dressed in maroon livery.
To her relief, when they reached an ornate fireplace with a fire crackling merrily away in the very midst of the hallway, Ida dropped her hold on Permilia’s arm.
“I’ve just seen a few of my friends, so I’ll leave you here, Permilia. Do try to remember what I’ve asked of you this evening, and do try to remember that smiling while keeping one’s mouth firmly closed is a great asset when trying to draw the notice of gentlemen.” She actually shuddered. “Gentlemen are not keen on ladies who are too intelligent, and I’m afraid that’s exactly how you come across when you speak on even the most mundane of topics.”
Turning to Lucy before Permilia could bring up the fact that she never seemed able to talk to most society gentlemen, her tongue becoming tied whenever she was in their company, Ida gave her daughter a lovely word of encouragement regarding the quadrille she was to perform later that evening. Patting Lucy’s cheek, Ida then hurried away, joining a group of society matrons gathered at the foot of a grand staircase.
“I’m off to the third-floor gymnasium to meet up with the other Mother Goose participants,” Lucy said. “Please refrain from participating in anything that may cause me embarrassment, but do feel free to bring my name up in conversation if you happen upon that lovely Mr. Rutherford again.” She tapped her Little Bo Peep hook against the marble floor. “He’s a very handsome sort, rumored to be beyond wealthy, and . . . just think of the access to all the latest fashions and accessories a lady would have if she happened to gain his affections.” With that, Lucy sent Permilia a nod, turned on her dainty heel, and with her skirts swishing in a very becoming manner—a move Lucy had perfected while watching herself in a mirrored wall—she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Permilia all alone.
Delighted to be left to her own devices, and anxious to view every nook and cranny that was permissible to view in Alva Vanderbilt’s extravagant home, Permilia fell into step behind a group of exquisitely dressed guests who were climbing up the grand staircase. To her amusement, she found herself in the midst of kings, queens, milkmaids, pirates, and even a few brightly colored insects here and there. Trying to put names to all the costumed guests surrounding her, she reached the second floor and edged as discreetly as possible behind a lush fern, peering through the fronds as guests streamed past her. Sticking her hand into the fur muff, she pulled out one of her many dance cards along with a small pencil. Jotting down the names of some of the guests she recognized, along with the costumes they were wearing, she found her dance card filled with scribbles in a remarkably short time. Feeling as if she’d gotten a great start on her mission for the evening, she stepped away from the fern, stuck her dance card back into the muff, looked up and found—to her very great surprise—an attractive gentleman smiling her way.
Not being a woman who ever attracted the attention of the gentlemanly type—what with the whole stigma of being a wallflower and all—Permilia wasn’t exactly certain what one was supposed to do when a gentleman sent a smile in her direction.