The Gilded Cage Read Online Free PDF Page B

the house. My heart thumps painfully in my chest, and I can’t stop touching my neck.
    Jane clutches at Henry’s arm, tears standing out in her eyes. “Thank you, sir. They were horrible. I … I could hardly breathe.…”
    Henry steps close to her, shielding her with his arms.
    â€œJohn, too, should be thanked,” I say faintly, my heart still hammering. But when I look around to do so, he has vanished.
    Henry murmurs to Jane, too softly for me to hear, as we walk back around the house.
    As we move into view of the last few departing carriages, Henry, still supporting Jane, pauses. “Please allow me to speak to your father about this terrible event, Jane. It happened on our grounds, and I want the chance to apologize to him for it.”
    She nods without speaking, and Henry moves away toward Mr. Dowling.
    â€œIt was a horrible ending to a lovely evening,” I say.
    Jane attempts to smile. “Please don’t think me forward, Lady Katherine, but should you want company, or find yourself in town, you must come and visit me. We girls should stick together.”
    â€œThat would be lovely,” I say.
    She takes my hand, pressing it tightly between hers. “I mean it,” she says, her eyes serious.
    I smile back. Her offer seems heartfelt, and I wonder if it has something to do with the ordeal we have just endured together, or the bond she appears to share with my cousin Henry. In whatever case, I feel grateful to have made a friend this evening with whom I can speak freely. She is as unlike Grace as chalk is to cheese. “Will you be here for the shoot?” I ask her. “It’s in a few days’ time.”
    Jane’s wry smile returns. “It’s hardly a pursuit I relish—blasting defenseless creatures from the sky for sport—but I can accompany my father if you wish.”
    I draw my hand from hers. “Yes, you must,” I say.
    â€œComing, Jane?” calls her father.
    â€œYes, Papa,” she says, before leaning closer to me. “The dear old thing loves a good shoot. Luckily, so do the birds, when he’s brandishing his gun. I doubt he could hit a chicken at five paces.”
    Laughing, I wish her good night, and she heads for her carriage.
    While the horses take her away, I walk into the house and straight up the main staircase.
    My room, lit by a crackling fire, is stifling after the crisp outdoors. Elsie dozes by the hearth, a book sprawled open across her chest. When I enter, she stands, yawning.
    â€œOh, Lady Katherine,” she says sleepily, tucking the book away. “Was the ball as lovely as you hoped?”
    I struggle to think back to the warmly lit dance floor, the smiles of the crowd. A girl’s first ball ought to be remembered as a remarkable thing—and it was an experience Elsie could never share. I force a smile for her benefit. “It was beautiful. I’ll tell you about the dresses tomorrow.”
    â€œYou look very pretty,” she says wistfully. “I like your hair like that, all falling loose.”
    Impulsively I reach for my fan, which rests on the dressing table. “Please, take this.”
    Her face falls. “Pardon, my lady?”
    I continue to hold it toward her. “It’s a gift, to show my gratitude. For everything you’ve done, everything you’ve helped me with since I got here.”
    She shakes her head and backs away, as if she’s actually frightened of the fan. “I couldn’t, my lady. It wouldn’t be right.”
    â€œNonsense,” I say. “Please, take it.”
    After a moment her reluctance blooms into a smile so radiant I’m almost ashamed. She opens the fan and flutters it gently, her eyes tracing its pattern of Oriental silk.
    I’m tired, but too restless to sleep. “You know a bit about me,” I say, “but I know nothing of you. Have you been at Walthingham long?”
    â€œYes. I left my family