How Can I Keep Dancing? [ON HOLD]

How Can I Keep Dancing? ~~~ Chapter 7 ~~~

It was a lucky thing that father had sent Coco Chanel’s gown for me in advance, or I would not have had time to find one. Opera’s were constantly a formal function, and therefore, evening gowns and tuxedoes were essential. Which was why I was panicking so much about Elijah. The most formal I had ever seen him dress was for our first date, and he looked merely as though he’d brushed his hair smoother for once. Of course, I did not care of what people thought of me or Elijah, but I wanted to make an impression to my parents, that Elijah was not some fling to me.

Through my jitters, I continue to apply powder to my skin and rouge to my cheeks, while I have Maria, one of the maids, help me with my hair. After slipping on my gown, I am left standing in front of the mirror, marveling at the beautiful perfection of the dress. Along with the golden satin gown, gorgeous pearls delicately decorate my wrist and hair, which is swept into a low bun in the current style. Almost as if called, my mother waltzes into the room, holding out a long strand of pearls, closely matching those of the ones on my wrist.

“Just one last touch,” she murmurs, as she wraps the pearls around my neck, and fastens the clasp. Instinctively my hand touches the beautiful gemstones, admiring the way the round beads catch the light.

“These were passed down from my grandmother. From the sea. Far more valuable than Agnes Holland’s own set. I should very much like for you to wear them tonight.”

“What, so you can show off how much richer we are than your friends? Or to try and sell me off to some rich bachelor?”

Her lips purse, but pretends as though she has not heard me. “You look so gorgeous.”

“I heard gorgeous, and immediately thought my presence was needed,” comes a voice, and in walks my father a moment later, dressed in tails and a bow tie.

I laugh at his cheekiness. “Nothing could ever compare to your dashing face.”

“Nothing other than my own lovely daughter,” he smiles, and I glow in return. “But, those pearls, Diana, might be over doing it a little.”

“Of course not! People need to know that she is a Rhodes, and that she fits the part.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t need expensive gems to prove that she’s our daughter. She’s beautiful as she is.”

My mother gives a disapproving groan and then glides out of the room. Reaching up to take off the pearls, I feel my father’s hands hold mine still.

“Leave them on. They look stunning. But just know that you don’t need to wear expensive jewelry to tell the world who you are.”

I turn to stand up, and then wrap my arms around his broad shoulders in an embrace. “Thank you, daddy.”

He pulls back and then plants a kiss on my forehead. “Shall we?” He gestures to the door. Lacing an arm through mine, he escorts me down the stairs to the entrance hall, where Aunt Josephine and my mother stand in their evening gowns.

“Ready to go?”

“I’m assuming this boy of yours will be meeting us at the Opera theatre?” asks my mother.

“Yes, I’ve told him to meet me in the foyer.”

“Well, then, let’s get going,” announces Aunt Josephine, and we all make our way towards where Henry stands with the car door open.

Henry drives us to the entrance of the Academy of Music Opera House where people already were crowding around the entrances. Ushers and valets are beckoning people inside and kindly parking vehicles for people who did not already have a driver. And the turnout was not a disappointment either (according to my mother’s standard’s). All the women are dressed in the latest fashion, or the most expensive gowns they could find in Philadelphia. Yet people still glare my way, envious of my French dress, hand-made of course by today’s most celebrated fashion designer.