Read Online The Gilded Cage by Susannah Bamford - Free Book Online

and smiled at the sight of her stocking feet, raised on a tufted stool. “You look comfortable in body, at least.”
    She smiled. “But not in mind, thanks to you.”
    Her smile was so pretty he almost relented. But the brief respite, the light words, had not managed to dispel the frustration in him. He never had enough of her, he was always fighting for more. Suddenly all the unanswered questions of the past months weighed on him. He had to know.
    He asked softly, “Do you love me, Columbine?”
    Her brown eyes widened. “Of course I—”
    He lifted a hand, and she stopped. “Wait. Don’t answer out of habit, or affection. You know what I’m asking. Do you love me, Columbine?”
    She was silent so long the fear took hold of him. Ned felt his stomach drop. He was falling away. He was a dead man without Columbine’s love, and he knew it. She had raised him from a life spent in the margins, looking on at other people, hardly engaged at all. She had made him care.
    â€œPlease, Columbine.” He was surprised that his voice was so steady.
    â€œYes, I love you, Ned,” she said slowly. “But lately I seem to have fallen away from you somehow. I don’t know when it happened, or why. … Or maybe something was supposed to happen, and didn’t.”
    â€œYou’re not making any sense,” he said tersely. Then he bit his lip. “No, of course you are. Of course I know what you mean. God help me.”
    Columbine heard the pain in his voice and rose so swiftly she took him by surprise. She ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Ned, don’t be unhappy. I do love you, so much. You’re my best friend. I still want to be with you. I still can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
    She raised wet eyes to his, and the slender hope that had kept him going died. Her arms around him tortured him, the smell of her tortured him, but he didn’t have the strength to pull away. Why wasn’t what she offered enough anymore?
    Columbine saw the pain in his eyes and her heart twisted. “Oh, Ned, Neddie,” she whispered. “What is it? Why is this happening? All of a sudden, we’re so serious. This can’t happen. Let’s just say good night. Ned, you’re making me so afraid—”
    He had to keep going, had to know everything. “Columbine—”
    She put both hands up to stop him. Her eyes were wild. “No, no, don’t say it, Ned, don’t ask me, please. Not yet, not tonight. Don’t ask me …”
    He ignored the litany and grasped her hands instead. “I must. I have to. Will you marry me?”
    Columbine’s eyes filled with tears. “You said if you asked me again it would be for the last time—”
    He held her gaze steadily. “And it is.”
    Columbine broke away from him and walked to the window. “Don’t do this to us, Ned.”
    â€œI have to. Columbine, I’ve been thinking. I know you can’t be only Mrs. Ned Van Cormandt, with all that implies. The house, the family and social obligations are a full-time job, I know that. But what if we lived differently? I’ve been thinking of making my house into a public museum. The art collection is extensive, and I’ve received some support for the idea.”
    â€œOh, Ned. You couldn’t. Not the Van Cormandt house.”
    â€œYou mean that ostentatious pile of marble, that horrifying copy of a castle where some virgin queen was beheaded, that bad imitation of a medieval dungeon where hundreds of heathen were tortured, that shuddering approximation of a bloody feasting hall of Viking warriors? Yes, go ahead and smile, I remember your words perfectly, my dear. Lord knows, I agree. I can’t imagine you living there. Am I right?”
    She nodded.
    â€œAll right, then. What if we lived in the Greenwich Village house? You love the house, as do I. It’s certainly large