The Gilded Cage Read Online Free PDF Page A

shadows on shadows. A small part of me is afraid, but deliciously so, thinking of a wild beast stalking the grounds just beyond the house.
    Jane takes my arm in hers as we pick our way across the quiet lawn. The air is fresh and cold, and the stars burn icily overhead. We cross great patches of lamplight thrown down from the windows, interspersed with silvery swaths of moonlight.
    â€œMay I ask you something of a personal nature, Katherine?” asks Jane.
    With everyone else around me so stuffy, her question rather takes me by surprise. “By all means.”
    â€œYour father … he grew up here. All his life, he was surrounded by this .” Her hand sweeps across the house, the grounds, encompassing the whole rich life of Walthingham. “How could he have given it all up to risk a life abroad?”
    â€œI don’t think he chose to give it up, exactly,” I say slowly. “He just happened to choose the wrong wife. My mother was an innkeeper’s daughter—they met by chance when his carriage broke down outside her family’s tavern. My grandfather did not approve of the match.”
    Jane’s eyebrows arch. “He must have learned to accept it in time, if all of this is now yours.”
    â€œA bit late, though,” I say. “I never met him. And I think my father would have liked to know he was forgiven before he … before they passed away.”
    We reach the house’s west wing, in midrenovation after the destruction caused not by an elephant but by a felled oak tree, lightning-struck during a summer storm. The rebuilding is nearly complete, but great chunks of pale stone from the estate’s abandoned quarry still litter the ground.
    Jane lays her little gloved hand on mine and looks up at the looming, unlit structure. “It’s rather unsettling,” she says. Then her face brightens. “So, did you meet any interesting men tonight, Kat? Any likely husbands for the lady of Walthingham Hall?”
    She’s teasing me, I know, but her tone is fond and knowing.
    â€œMy brother was the one on display tonight, not me,” I say. “I’m far too young to think of husbands.”
    She cocks her head, catching me in her frank gaze. “It would be nice if that were true, but trust me—a girl like you cannot remain unmatched for long.”
    A girl like me? I have never felt less sure of what kind of girl I am. Not one ready to marry, that’s for sure. “I’m still adjusting to my life here; I can’t think of husbands just yet.” I remember the way she looked at my cousin Henry as they spun on the floor. “And what about you?”
    â€œIf my father has anything to say about it, I’ll be packed off to the first rich man who will have me,” she says ruefully. “He thinks only of providing for my material comfort—neither looks, conversation, nor a tendency toward regular bathing impresses him so much as an estate.”
    â€œBut,” I venture, laughing, “what about the man you danced with tonight?”
    â€œI danced with more than one, Katherine,” she says coyly—then dips her head, seeming to catch my meaning. “There isn’t much to say. Not a promise, exactly, but something very close to it.” Her eyes shine with suppressed happiness, and in that moment, she seems much younger and more vulnerable.
    There’s a flash of movement just beyond the rocks. The laughter sticks in my throat. Squinting into the shadows, I see the shapes of three men approaching, one of them swinging what looks like a wine bottle from his hand. There’s something in their determined stride that I don’t like, and I take Jane’s arm. “Let’s keep walking,” I say firmly, as we move swiftly past the darkened west wing. I have the sudden, desperate feeling that we won’t be safe until we reach the lit side of the house.
    Jane has spotted them, too.