Falling Angels

About the Author TRACY CHEVALIER is the author of New Yorks Times bestselling Girl with a Pearl Earring. She holds a graduate degree in creative writing from the University of East Anglia. An American originally from Washington, DC, she currently lives in London with her husband and son. Product Description In 1901 London, as the precise social order of the Victorian era winds down and the forward-looking Edwardian order takes wing, three strangers meet in the city's stony Highgate Cemetery. Beautiful Lavinia revels in the elaborate trappings of the past. Plain Maude strives to shape the future. Simon Fields, a boy their age, is bound by poverty and professional to the cemetery.As they explore the prejudices and flaws of a changing time, they bring their very different families together and ultimately discover that their fates are intertwined. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Falling AngelBy Tracy ChevalierHighBridge AudioCopyright © 2001 Tracy ChevalierAll right reserved.ISBN: 9781565115088Chapter OneKitty Coleman    I woke this morning with a stranger in my bed. The head of blondhair beside me was decidedly not my husband's. I did not knowwhether to be shocked or amused.    Well, I thought, here's a novel way to begin the new century.    Then I remembered the evening before and felt rather sick. I wonderedwhere Richard was in this huge house and how we were meantto swap back. Everyone else here?the man beside me included?wasfar more experienced in the mechanics of these matters than I.Than we. Much as Richard bluffed last night, he was just as much inthe dark as me, though he was more keen. Much more keen. It mademe wonder.    I nudged the sleeper with my elbow, gently at first and thenharder until at last he woke with a snort.    "Out you go," I said. And he did, without a murmur. Thankfullyhe didn't try to kiss me. How I stood that beard last night I'll neverremember?the claret helped, I suppose. My cheeks are red withscratches.    When Richard came in a few minutes later, clutching his clothesin a bundle, I could barely look at him. I was embarrassed, and angrytoo?angry that I should feel embarrassed and yet not expect him tofeel so as well. It was all the more infuriating that he simply kissedme, said, "Hello, darling," and began to dress, I could smell her perfumeon his neck.    Yet I could say nothing. As I myself have so often said, I am openminded?I pride myself on it. Those words bite now.    I lay watching Richard dress, and found myself thinking of mybrother. Harry always used to tease me for thinking too much?thoughhe refused to concede that he was at all responsible for encouragingme. But all those evenings spent reviewing with me whathis tutors had taught him in the morning?he said it was to help himremember it?what did that do but teach me to think and speak mymind? Perhaps he regretted it later. I shall never know now. I am onlyjust out of mourning for him, but some days it feels as if I am stillclutching that telegram.    Harry would be mortified to see where his teaching has led. Notthat one has to be clever for this sort of thing?most of them downstairsare stupid as buckets of coal, my blond beard among them. Notone could I have a proper conversation with?I had to resort to thewine.    Frankly I'm relieved not to be of this set?to paddle in its shallowsoccasionally is quite enough for me. Richard I suspect feels differently,but he has married the wrong wife if he wanted that sort of life.Or perhaps it is I who chose badly?though I would never havethought so once, back when we were mad for each other.    I think Richard has made me do this to show me he is not as conventionalas I feared. But it has had the opposite effect on me. He hasbecome everything I had not thought he would be when we married.He has become ordinary.    I feel so flat this morning. Daddy and Harry would have laughedat me, but I secretly hoped that the change in the century wouldbring a c