The Burning Read Online Free PDF

“Please know that you can always rely on me.”
    Angelica leaned against her father and allowed him to lead her into the sitting room. As they walked, she pulled off her black bonnet and tossed it onto a chair.
    â€œIt was a good funeral,” Henry Pierce said in his gruff rumble of a voice. He was a burly, red-faced man with a thick black mustache, and his appearance was as gruff as his voice. “Until the horse pulling the hearse cart tossed a shoe. I cannot understand why they do not inspect these horses before a funeral starts.”
    â€œYes, Father,” Angelica replied weakly. She made her way to the long couch and sat down.
    â€œYou look very pale,” her father muttered, narrowing his blue eyes as he studied her. “I wish you were stronger, Angelica.”
    â€œYes, Father.”
    â€œYou have stood up very well under this tragedy,” he remarked, shaking his head sadly. He tsk-tsked, his mustache rolling up and down. “James Daumier was a fine young man.”
    Angelica sighed. She wished she could change her dress. The heavy black wool was hot and uncomfortable.
    â€œHamilton Scott will be a very suitable husband for you,” Mr. Pierce said, striding to the window. “I have spoken to his father, who approves the match wholeheartedly.”
    â€œFather, please do not force me to think about marriage now. Not on the day of James’s funeral,” Angelica said in a quivering voice. “I feel so light-headed and fluttery. I am afraid I may swoon again.”
    â€œSave your strength, daughter. We will discuss it when you are feeling stronger.” Mr. Pierce pulled back the window curtains. Bright yellow sunlight streamed into the room.
    Angelica blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. “Ah, Liza—here you are!” she cried, turning to the door.
    Liza entered the room unsteadily, her black bonnet still covering her head, the hem of her black dress grazing the floor. “Funerals are so sad, Angelica!” she wailed.
    â€œThe funeral of a fine young man is especially sad,” Mr. Pierce agreed solemnly. “Would you girls care for tea? I shall alert the staff.”
    Angelica watched as her father left, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “It—it was a pretty funeral,” she stammered, motioning for Liza to sit down beside her. “All those flowers.”
    Liza pulled off her long black gloves and let them fall to the floor. She sat down beside her cousin and put a hand gently on her arm. “How are you, Angelica?”
    â€œI feel better now that Father has left my side,” Angelica admitted, covering Liza’s hand with hers. “He means well, but he cannot stop talking about Hamilton Scott.”
    â€œYou mean—”
    â€œI mean with James
dead
—” The word caught in Angelica’s throat. “With James dead,” she started again, “Father is urging me to accept Hamilton. Father thinks it best that Hamilton and I announce our betrothal and marry as quickly as possible.”
    â€œBut do you
care
for him, Angelica?” Liza asked.
    Angelica replied with a pained sigh. She squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Simon has been such a comfort these past few days,” Angelica offered, focusing on the window. “He has been so considerate, so understanding.”
    â€œAngelica!” Liza exclaimed, unable to conceal her disapproval. “I had no idea you were seeing Simon Fear.”
    â€œHe has paid me visits,” Angelica said, still avoiding her cousin’s stare. “He has been very kind. I do not know why you are so suspicious of Simon, Liza. Just because he is a northerner and does not come from wealth—”
    â€œI do not trust him. That is all,” Liza replied sharply. She shifted her weight on the couch. “You avoided my question about Hamilton. How do you feel about Hamilton, Angelica? Do you care for him?”
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