In Edith Wharton's 1905 novel The House of Mirth, the lovely and tragic Lily Bart misses her 3:15 train from Grand Central to Rhinebeck. When she runs into an acquaintance, she mentions that she is on her way to a house party, and has sent her maid ahead with her luggage. She boards a later train and proceeds to charm a potential suitor over tea.
A couple of weeks ago, a certain Tailored Woman was joining friends at a rented farmhouse in the Hudson Valley. At Penn Station--dragging her own luggage--she circled around and around the confusing Amtrak section, finally locating Track 5--and the cousin with whom she was traveling--before racing onto the train to Rhinecliff with 5 minutes to spare. No one offered tea; instead, while catching up with her cousin, our lady inhaled a sandwich from Pret a Manger that she'd brought with her.
Clearly times have changed. I'm not certain what happened to the Rhinebeck station, but it doesn't appear that any trains run from the city to the elegant town now. Perhaps the station was always fictional. Rhinecliff, on the other hand, is a charming, if tiny, town just a few miles away. While awaiting our ride to the farmhouse, my cousin and I discovered the Rhinecliff Hotel, where we enjoyed drinks on the veranda. I was thrilled to find an authentic Pimm's Cup, down to the sprig of borage in the drink. Much more refreshing than Lily's tea.
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