Read While the World Is Still Asleep (The Century Trilogy Book 1) for Free Online Page B

chill ran through her at the thought. Or would she have to go straight to the caretaker? If the caretaker was as repulsive as Krotzmann, then it was all over for her . . . Would she be able to work at all with her injured hands? That Krotzmann had better not try to strike her again.
    “Me and marriage? Heaven forbid,” said Isabelle. “I love my freedom far too much for that.”
    “So what became of that young Baron von Salzfeld, the one your mother thought so much of?” asked Clara. “She came into the pharmacy once and gushed about him as if wedding bells would soon be ringing.”
    “The one with the castle out in the country and the extensive estates east of Berlin and the brilliant connections to the Imperial Court? He was just the type my mother loves,” said Isabelle derisively. “I, however, found him terribly dull, so I sent him fleeing, like all the others. I make a stupid remark or come up with an irritating mannerism—and they’re gone! It’s really very easy.” She laughed. “Father is still trying to guess why the young gentleman beat such a hasty retreat. ‘Dearest Father,’ I told him, ‘am I really supposed to marry some young peacock who can’t even hold a candle to you?’ I’ve always been able to calm him down that way.” Isabelle looked very pleased with herself.
    Clara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “But if it all really means so little to you . . . including all the ball gowns and jewelry and constant visits to the hairdresser . . . why don’t you just tell your father you’re not interested in getting married? Wouldn’t that be better for everyone?”
    “You don’t know my father! He’s got it into his head that through me—or rather, through the fine match I’ll make one day—he’ll climb into the highest social circles.”
    “But he’s already there. He’s been up there for ages,” said Josephine. She was thinking of Isabelle’s family’s beautiful villa, which was stuffed full of valuable things. She had been wide-eyed when she had first seen it. She had never imagined that people lived like that, let alone that she would ever set foot in such a place.
    Isabelle ran a hand through her mass of red curls. “Money is one thing. But there are many in the upper circles who still look at my father as a kind of tailor, an upstart apron-maker , someone who could never belong to the league of major industrialists like the Krupps or the Rothschilds. But that is exactly where he wants to be, and I am the means to that end.”
    Josephine frowned. “You sound so bitter . . . I always thought you enjoyed all those balls.”
    “You thought  . . . For a change, you might have asked me just once how I felt about it.” Isabelle looked from Jo to Clara. “How many times have I told you that these society balls are like an Arabian wedding market? And it’s never occurred to you that I’m supposed to be bartered away to the highest bidder? You seem to think I live in some kind of paradise . . .”
    The mockery in Isabelle’s voice was impossible to ignore. Josephine, cut to the quick, looked down at her bloody hands. Had she really been such a bad friend? So selfish? She’d been so caught up in her own projects, her own thoughts. Only ever thinking of herself.
    “Forgive me. I’m so sorry for everything . . .” she said, choking on her own tears.
    Isabelle and Clara shifted uneasily on their hard chairs. Josephine cleared her throat.
    “I don’t want to seem rude, but . . . I’ve been assigned to the caretaker as his assistant, and he’s probably waiting for me.” Without a word of farewell, without any embrace, Josephine fled the room in tears.

    “So you’re supposed to be my new helper . . .” The caretaker looked Josephine up and down. “You’ve got a broad back, at least. Well, we’ll see. It’s actually too late to start on any new tasks today, but if I send you away now, they’ll stick you in the kitchen and I’ll be back