Gilded Cage

Chapter Two

Lizzie

Six months earlier...

Dammit!

I swiped at the small drops of rain that had fallen onto my book page. The ink smeared over Darcy's impassioned plea to Elizabeth. Of course, this would have to happen to my brand-new copy of Pride and Prejudice, not one of the well-worn, broken spine copies I had back home on my bookshelf. My lips twisted in a grimace as I looked at the ruined page. This was what I got for indulging in a whim to get a new hardback copy from Hatchard's. It was silly of course but it was so much fun purchasing my favorite book from a famous old bookstore in London. I'm convinced Ms. Austin's words felt more authentic as I read them from this volume. How could they not? My old copies couldn't possibly compare to the romance of a copy purchased from a London bookstore my first few weeks here, even if one of the pages was now smeared. I would know it was smeared by a London rain while I sat in St. James's park reading.

The tiny bit of blue sky had been transformed into a watery grey. As the small drizzle intensified, I saw crowds of people shaking out blankets and packing up their belongings around the park. Once more I looked up at the sky, straining to see even a tiny ray of sunshine that would indicate this was not the fate of my entire afternoon. Another fat drop of water fell, turning the green striped canvas of my deck chair a dark hunter green.

Shooting a dirty look at the concession guy who had just taken my two quid for the privilege of sitting in this chair, I snatched up my Brahmin python-print tote and placed my book in the inside pocket before it could get any more damaged. Despite the rain, I waited a moment to rise, knowing the impractical albeit cute dark blue sweater dress I was wearing was going to make climbing out of the deck chair without flashing the family of four across from me a shot of my black lace panties a little difficult. The fabric knee-high boots certainly didn't help. Flipping my legs over to one side, I placed one palm on the armrest and focused on using my thigh muscles to launch myself out of the deep and low chair.

Picking up my bag, I stuck my tongue out at the nasty little concession guy who had stood by and witnessed my contorted efforts. Whatever happened to chivalry? Were there no gentlemen left in the world to help a damsel in distress?

Sighing, I realized there were no Mr. Darcys in the real world.

Yanking the hem of my sweater dress down over my thighs, I promised myself I would wear a practical pair of jeans tomorrow when I went to check out the Sherlock museum. Although I would probably pair them with my new pair of purple platform patent-leather boots that I had just gotten at a tiny basement shop in Soho. So London punk! I loved them. Besides, in two days I would officially be a fashion student living in London. I couldn't just muck about in torn jeans and a t-shirt! I might as well scream, American! If this was going to be my new home, I needed to fit in and look the part.

The rain started to come down harder. I could see small pools forming amid the blades of bright green and yellow grass. This was going to ruin my boots! Cringing as my heel sank into the soft, muddy turf, I ran toward the tarmac path. Running a hand through my hair, I could already feel the long length begin to poof and curl as the moisture soaked in. I dipped my head low, hoping to at least preserve my makeup.

Mental note. You live in London now. Buy an umbrella!

Running along the path, I spared a glance at the famous white and black swans that still swam serenely on the lake, caring little for the rain-churned waters about them. I still hadn't seen one of the famous pelicans but perhaps next weekend. Turning right, I ran past the wooden concession carts and flower beds filled with yellow wallflowers and red tulips toward the main road.

It was far too early to return to my tiny flat. Besides, Jane was probably still there with her boyfriend and I had promised to make myself scarce for the afternoon. I'd just head to the museum. I could easily kill a few hours out of the rain strolling among the galleries. Trafalgar Square was only a few blocks to the right. I'd be soaked through by the time I got to the museum but that was what I got for not wearing a coat in late September or carrying an umbrella.

Reaching The Mall, I threw a glance to my left. The signature red road was darkened to a muddy brown from the rain. The branches on the tree-lined street swayed as the leaves shifted from bright green to their mottled grey underside. The statue of Queen Victoria appeared like a bright white beacon through the gloom. Should I reconsider my decision to save a tour of Buckingham Palace for a special occasion or just go now? No, I would wait. I wanted to finish that other book I was reading, To Marry an English Lord first. It was a silly Cinderella fantasy but a girl could still dream about elegant dresses, jewels, and the possibility of a dashing aristocrat sweeping her off her feet. Too bad people didn't still dress like they did in the Victorian era. Dating wouldn't be so terribly horrific if the man showed up in a top hat and tails and was expected to take you to the theater and behave himself. Instead of the modern version of sloppy t-shirts, a Netflix movie, and dick pics.

No wonder I had sworn off men.

Once more I lamented the fact book boyfriends were not real.

Why can't a girl have her Mr. Darcy?

Pulling the strap of my purse higher onto my shoulder, I stepped into the street getting ready to run across the wide four-lane road to the other side. It was probably stupid not to cross at a crosswalk in this rain but I really wanted to get to someplace dry.

The shrill blast of a car horn was my only warning.

Swinging my head to the right, I realized my error too late.

The large round headlights of a black cab came bearing down on me. Look right! Look right! When will I remember to look right, not left when crossing the streets? My mouth dropped open with a scream as I willed my limbs to move.

Nothing, it was if my feet were in cement.

The screech of the cab's brakes rent the air as the car swiveled, then pitched sideways in its attempt to stop on the slick street. Still, I couldn't force myself to move. I felt the splash of muddy water against my lower thighs as the cab's wheels locked. My heart hammered in my chest as the deafening screech of the cab's horn roared in my ears.

This is it. This is how I fucking die.

Closing my eyes, I braced for the inevitable crushing impact.

There was a strong band of pressure around my middle as my entire body was lifted and forced against a solid wall of warmth. The toes of my boots skimmed the pavement as I was hurled backwards to the safety of the walkway.

Stunned, I leaned back, my weight supported by the strong arm wrapped protectively around my waist.

Twisting my neck, I looked up into the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

"Don't worry, love. I've got you."