Читать книгу Wingless Bird - Анна Морион - Страница 2

– Aunt Beatrice! I am eternally grateful to you for allowing me to be a part of your beautiful family! – In a beautiful, rather high, but not at all harsh voice, the arriving niece said and made a charming curtsy. Then, with a glance at her cousin, she sat down again in a curtsy and said: – Good day, sir!

– 'Good day indeed,' Anthony replied casually, gazing at the girl with ill-concealed admiration.

"So this bird is my dearest beggar cousin? Well, mother must be pleased: no sober-minded single man can resist the green-eyed fairy!" – Mr. Cranford thought involuntarily.

– Welcome to Greenhall, my dear niece," said Lady Cranford coolly. But any intelligent person would easily have realised that it was merely a courtesy, for pauper relatives are the most unwelcome of guests. – I hope the long journey has not tired you?

Anthony felt a slight annoyance at his mother: the tone of her voice was so indifferent and cold that it might easily have frightened and distressed his young cousin, who must be expecting a warmer welcome.

– Oh, dear auntie, don't worry! I slept the whole journey and did not awake until the gates of London. Besides, Philip, our coachman, knows how to drive a carriage without tiring me. Can Philip and the horses spend the night in your stables? He will be travelling back to Casterbridge at dawn tomorrow," Vivian said with a smile, as if she had not noticed her aunt's coldness.

– I'm sure he will. I will see that your coachman and your horses are fed and sheltered," she said.

"God almighty! This girl must have come from Paradise itself!" – thought Jane, listening intently to the conversation between her masters and their guest.

Before meeting Vivian, neither Lady Cranford, nor her son, nor Jane's maid, had even suspected that on sinful Earth one might meet a very real angel: so dazzlingly beautiful was Vivian Cowell, the daughter of the Greenhall mistress's fallen sister, a poor relation and an unwelcome guest.

The first thing that caught her eye was her red, wavy hair, so bright as if it blazed with wild flames. And despite the fact that this hair was tucked into a high modest hairstyle, a couple of locks came out from under the hairpin and fell on the snow-white, thin, surprisingly beautiful face of the girl, as if giving her interlocutors a hint of what fiery splendour awaited them when Vivian got rid of the hairstyle holding it back. Surprisingly, there were almost no freckles on her face, only a few red dots covering the delicate bridge of her nose and milky white cheeks with rather sharp cheekbones. Her plump red lips smiled the most charming smile imaginable. Small round gold clips shone softly in her beautifully shaped ears. But Vivian's most magnificent jewel were her eyes: green as emeralds, framed by long red lashes, they captivated the gaze, and the gently arched thick red eyebrows gave them mystery. Despite her dusty, outdated green cotton dress, her rather shabby white silk gloves, and her shoes, with their obvious bunched-up toes, Vivian Cowell was a delight to everyone in the mansion. Everyone except Lady Cranford.

Anthony never took his eyes off his cousin, and it worried and even frightened his mother. What if her niece turned her son's head? What if he wanted to make Vivian his wife? It must not happen! He is to be matched with one of the wealthy heiresses of London nobility!

The heart of the one whom Vivian called "dear auntie" was filled with vexation and dislike for her "dear niece." How dare this person be so unheard ofly beautiful? What did she need this beauty for? What would she, Lady Cranford, do with all the suitors and admirers of this beauty with green, witch-like eyes?

"Not a bit like her mother! She must have inherited that awful red hair from her pauper father. Ah, Catherine, my foolish sister! If you had married the man our father chose to marry you, you and your children would have been close to me, but you chose to chase love and chose exile!" – This was the woman's thought, and she did not take her eyes off her beautiful niece.

But Lady Cranford was a lady for a reason: she hid her dislike and annoyance behind a false smile, and comforted herself with the thought that, no doubt, Vivian would be sold out of her hands on her first outing, as her aunt wished.

As for plain Jane, she was ready to follow Vivian to the ends of the earth, into fire or water, as soon as she saw the lady she had been fortunate enough to serve. From the moment the guest came into her sight, this angelic-looking girl became her idol. What was the cause of this adoration? Vivian's beauty? Her melodious voice? Her enchanting smile? Oh, no! The reason was simple: Jane's keen eye, which had seen the upper classes of London and England every day, recognised from the first glance at her guest that she was poor. Vivian's dress was simple, elegant, but poor, too poor by London standards. Jane's heart filled with sisterly love for this beautiful but alas, poor relative of the rich and noble Dowager Countess Lady Cranford, a woman like an ice statue.

– You must be hungry, my dear," said Lady Cranford to her niece. – 'Fortunately, there will be lunch soon, but surely you can have sandwiches and tea now. c

– Thank you, dear auntie, you are so kind! But I would prefer to share a meal with you. Don't worry about me. Could you order my luggage to be taken to my room? – Vivian answered her in a calm tone. She was not frightened by her aunt's coldness, nor deceived by the deliberate nobility of this beautiful lady, nor disturbed by the thought of what her rich relatives thought of her and her poor attire. She only continued to smile, for she knew that there was no weapon stronger than a beautiful smile.

She could see the admiration in the blue eyes of the handsome young man standing beside her aunt: he was tall, trim, dark-haired. There was no mistaking it: he was Lady Cranford's son. But which one? Thanks to her father's stories, Vivian was aware that she had two cousins in London. One was the heir to the vast Cranford fortune, the one who had inherited the title of Earl; the other was the younger son, who had also received his share of the inheritance, but had neither the title nor even a quarter of what his brother had inherited. Vivian knew the bitter truth: her mother, married for love, had lost everything. All her relatives seemed to have forgotten about her existence, and enraged by the disobedience of his eldest daughter, Vivian's grandfather had rewritten his will, in which he, though he had no title, but was one of the richest men in the kingdom, left everything he had to his youngest daughter, Beatrice, who submitted to his will and became the wife of the man he had chosen for her. And as the Earl himself was immensely rich, his marriage to Beatrice only doubled his fortune, and at his death this fortune passed to his eldest son. Lady Cranford, on the other hand, was content with a widow's share, which did not in the least induce her to change the luxurious life to which she had been accustomed.

– You must be my cousin? – Vivian addressed Anthony politely. – Your features are unmistakably those of my dear aunt.

– Exactly, my dear cousin," he smiled, and, taking her gloved hand, kissed it gently, causing Vivian's neck and cheeks to blush against her will.

"What impudence! Only just arrived, and already she's flirting like a skilful minx… And with whom? With my son! And Anthony himself? He keeps his eyes on her! – Lady Cranford thought angrily as she watched the young people smiling at each other. – This must stop!"

– "Vivian, let me introduce you to my youngest son Anthony," she said to her niece in a still but simply icy tone, this time not bothering to hide her true feelings behind an insincere 'darling'.

"Junior! What a pity… But the eldest must be coming to see his mother, even if he doesn't live with her," ran through Vivian's mind, and her sympathy for her young cousin immediately diminished.

– My eldest son Richard lives in a separate house. He and his wife have recently purchased an estate in the north, but they visit us quite often. Richard knows that I miss my grandchildren terribly," Lady Cranford said, as if she had read her mind, and deliberately mentioned that her eldest son was married, had children, and lived far from London.

– Oh, I shall be delighted to meet him and my little nieces and nephews! – Vivian exclaimed, folding her arms on her breast in a touching gesture, but the news that her cousin the Earl was married upset her feelings.

– My brother has been hunted to the very heart of the matter. But now he is married to a charming young woman, and is the father of a mischievous boy and two rosy-cheeked daughters," Anthony explained, admiring her beautiful face. He could have stood like that all day long, forgetting about food and water and just looking at his angelic green-eyed cousin. But when he caught himself at this thought, the young man was horrified and hastened to dismiss the obsession that had seized him: well aware of his position as the youngest son, he knew that the only way he could gain wealth was to marry one of the heiresses of a good fortune, or a girl with a rich dowry. In return, he could offer himself, his respect and his care. And after all, he was not some petty nobleman, but the son of an earl, which gave him an advantage over many potential suitors.

– They must be real angels," Vivian smiled at her cousin.

"I bet they'd be hunting him! After all, he is the owner of such a vast fortune!" – she thought. But she did not dare to say this phrase aloud, for she was afraid of offending the feelings of her aunt. And what would those pompous Cranfords think of her?

– They are angels," confirmed her aunt. – But now back to your luggage. Anthony, have the footmen take your cousin's bags up to her room…" But when she looked at the carriage in which Vivian had arrived, and saw the single suitcase tied to the roof, she asked, with difficulty suppressing the mockery in her voice: – Is that all your luggage, dear?

– Yes, auntie. I did not wish to carry many things with me: I shall order dresses after the latest London fashion, and purchase everything worthy of being worn by a true London fashionista. – Vivian understood perfectly well her aunt's allusion to her poverty, but again hid her pain behind a smile.

And what could she say? Having struggled to raise the money for the journey to London, London tailors and fashionable shops, she had arrived at Greenhall, at her rich aunt's house, like a beggar, like a beggar. Vivian knew she should have been grateful that she had been allowed to come and even taken into her care. She would live in this huge, beautiful house, walk on those long great balconies, and eat with the Cranfords in their what must have been a large sumptuous dining room. Her aunt had promised her mother to take Vivian out into the world and give a reception in her honour (that was what Beatrice Cranford had written to her dying sister), which would probably help Vivian to make a good party.

After all, the only purpose for which the penniless niece came to London and was prepared to endure the ridicule and coldness of her relatives was to find and marry a rich groom.

– Well, then you should go shopping, and as soon as possible," Lady Cranford replied, but she was not unmindful of the thought that her niece was counting on her aunt's generosity, which was so unfortunate: to tolerate this insolent woman in her house? Yes, in memory of her sister. But to renew her wardrobe, and at London prices? No, that's not going to happen! – But I must warn you that London prices are very different from what you are used to in your little town. Be very careful how you spend your money," she added, to let her niece know that she would have to pay for the cost of her wardrobe.

– Thank you for your concern, Auntie. I will," said Vivian, with another sweet smile, but with anger in her heart. It irritated her to the core that her aunt considered her a sponger and a beggar (which was hard not to notice). She had no intention of begging her aunt for money for new dresses! Vivian had her own means! Did her "good aunt" really think that pride would allow her, Vivian, to come empty-handed?

– You can go shopping with Jane," Lady Cranford told her with satisfaction when she heard Vivian's reply. – Jane is nineteen, like you. She will be your personal maid.

Jane made a hasty curtsy and smiled a broad, sincere smile at Vivian.

– It will be a pleasure to serve you, miss! – she exclaimed quietly, and her face shone like a new cent.

Vivian smiled back at her.

– It's a pleasure to meet you, Jane. I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time together! – Vivian said in a friendly tone to her maid.

The maid could not find words to reply and only curtsied again.

– Jane, show Miss Cowell to her chambers. Anthony, take care of her luggage. Luncheon will be served in an hour on the South Balcony," she ordered in a commanding tone, the mistress of Greenhall (which her eldest son Richard was to inherit on her death). – But be on time, Vivian. I don't tolerate tardiness.

Jane and Vivian went to the latter's chambers, and Anthony was about to go into the house and give orders for his cousin's luggage when his mother's quiet but imperious voice stopped him halfway:

– Don't you dare even think about her, my son.

Anthony turned round to his mother, gave her a sarcastic smile and said:

– Mother, I am well aware of my position.

She grinned contentedly.

Anthony continued his way.

Lady Cranford hurried to her study and locked the door to reread her late sister's last letter once more. She wished she could feel pity for her niece, but, against her will, she felt only dislike for her.