Читать книгу Wingless Bird - Анна Морион - Страница 6

– Miss Vivian! – broke the silence of the bedroom with someone's whisper.

Silence.

– Miss Vivian! – The whisper became a little louder and more insistent.

Silence again.

– Miss Vivian! Good morning! Time to get up! – Jane shook the sleeping girl lightly by the shoulder.

Vivian grumbled unhappily, frowned and hid her face in the pillow.

Jane waited patiently for a few minutes and then began to wake her mistress again.

– Miss Vivian! It's morning! It's time for you to get up! – She said insistently, and went to the dark curtains, which were closed tightly, and opened them sharply, and the room was immediately filled with the pale but cheerful light of a June morning in London.

– No, no, I'm not ready yet! – Vivian said in a low protesting tone, her voice sounding muffled, for her face was still hidden in the pillow.

– But Lady Cranford has commanded it! She expects you in half an hour for breakfast in the Little Dining-room! – Jane went to the bed and resolutely took the blanket from Vivian, causing her to wrap her arms round her shoulders and tuck her legs under her, but continue to lie there.

– God, her again! She ordered it! – Miss Cowell grumbled: What time is it?

– Half-past seven, Miss Vivian.

– Is my aunt awake, or has she nothing else to do but eat breakfast so terribly early? – Vivian wrinkled her nose, but slowly got out of bed: alas, she realised that she had no way of not turning up for an early breakfast-she was at the mercy of her aunt's strange routine. The thought of pretending to be ill flashed through her mind, but thinking that then she would have to stay in her room all day, she dismissed it: for today she had shops and ateliers waiting for her, where she would buy and order beautiful hats, dresses, shoes, gloves, and parasols! No, this pleasure Viviane could not sacrifice even for a few more hours of sleep!

– You must get up so early every day, Miss Vivian," smiled Jane warmly. – Our ma'am gets up at five in the morning, and at seven sharp, she, her son and the guests sit down to breakfast. And another thing: every Sunday the Cranfords attend mass.

– Oh, no, not that! – She rarely went to church, and on Sundays she preferred to sleep before noon. – Does everyone in this house like to get up so early and is so terribly religious?

– Everyone goes to church. The servants get up at five in the morning, Miss Vivian. I get up at five, too. But poor Emily has to get up at four o'clock to prepare warm water for Ma'am's washing, dress Ma'am and bring her freshly brewed tea by five.

– Poor Emily! She must be off her feet by noon," said Miss Cowell, sympathising with the poor maid. – But I must hurry… How am I to remember all the rules of this house? Will you help me, Jane?

– Of course, Miss Vivian: that's what I'm here for! Wash your face, and then I'll find you a suitable dress for breakfast.

– I was going to wear that yellow one over there. – Vivian nodded carelessly at a chair on the back of which hung neatly a modestly cut but rather brightly coloured cotton dress.

– Lady Cranford doesn't like bright colours at breakfast," Jane said firmly. She went to the open suitcase lying by the table, and took out a pale green dress. – 'That's just right!

In response to her assistant, Vivian only shook her fiery mane and thought that there was no way she would be able to tidy up in just half an hour. But thanks to Jane, to whom Vivian was most grateful, the morning was saved, and at seven o'clock precisely Miss Cowell entered the small but beautiful and expensively furnished dining-room. Jane had even taken time to arrange her mistress's hair in a simple but elegant style.

– What a marvellous morning!" said Vivian, appearing in the Small Dining Room, accompanied by Jane, with feigned cheerfulness.

Lady Cranford was already seated at the large oval table, dressed in a modest black muslin gown. She gave her niece an appraising glance, and, satisfied that she had observed the etiquette of the house, smiled and replied:

– 'You are right, Vivian, it is a wonderful morning. What a lovely dress. And the colour is just right for a quiet breakfast. I hope you slept well last night?

Vivian walked gracefully to the table, and the footman at the window immediately rushed to pull out a chair for her.

– Thank you," she smiled at the servant, and then turned to her aunt: "I slept like a baby! I'm glad you like my outfit, dear aunt. It was Jane who helped me to choose it.

– How kind of her. – Lady Cranford cast an indifferent glance at Jane, who remained standing in the doorway, awaiting her mistress's new orders. – 'Jane, you will be at Miss Cowell's complete disposal tonight. Take my carriage and go shopping.

– Oh, Auntie, you are so kind. I was about to ask you to let Jane come with me; she knows London fashions better than I do, and would be a valuable counsellor," said Vivian, a little surprised that her aunt had offered her the carriage.

'But should I be surprised? – I'm her niece, after all, and I bet she doesn't want to spoil her reputation. – I'm her niece, after all, and I'll bet she doesn't want to spoil her reputation, for it won't be long before everyone knows I'm in her care."

Vivian was not mistaken: Lady Cranford could not allow her niece to be seen walking about London. What would her friends and other members of the city's upper classes think? Reputation was the mistress of Greenhall's concern, not her niece's comfort. Besides, Lady Cranford had sworn to herself to do everything she could to find Vivian a spouse as soon as possible, and for this purpose it was necessary to surround the girl with care and gently but firmly push her to the path desired by her "dear aunt". However, the rich aunt was not willing to spend a cent on her late sister's poor daughter.

– That's fine. I hope you have a good time. My advice is to be wary of bright colours. They're a sign of bad taste. Go for subdued colours and styles. No feathers – they look hideous and cheap. And don't forget to wear a hat, Vivian. In London all ladies must wear hats," Lady Cranford advised, and picked up the silver cutlery. – But breakfast awaits.

Vivian readily followed her aunt's example, for she was very hungry: she had missed dinner on purpose last night, and her stomach was inexorably hungry.

– But mustn't we wait till Mr. Cranford comes? – she asked, surprised that her strict aunt had taken breakfast without her son.

– If he is not here at seven o'clock, he is not at Greenhall," Lady Cranford said grimly; she knew very well the reason why her son had not been at breakfast, and she was not happy about his latest night out. But the Countess did not think it necessary to share this with her niece, for, in the opinion of the mistress of Greenhall, everything that concerned her sons was of no concern to Vivian.

Lady Cranford had expected her niece to go on inquiring about Anthony, but to her great surprise Vivian shrugged her shoulders, ate her breakfast quickly, asked permission to leave the table, wished her aunt a good day, and left the dining-room.

– 'Albert, when Mr. Cranford arrives at home, tell him to come into my study immediately,' Lady Cranford ordered the footman standing at the window.

"And you, my son, I shall have a serious talk with you, both about Vivian and about your pernicious amusements," she thought, and went on with her meal alone, considering when and how she should give a reception in her niece's honour, and realising with displeasure that it would have to be well spent.

***

Anthony did not arrive home until midday: although he had ordered the coachman to pick him up at six in the morning, his physical condition after a long night of alcohol, prostitutes and card games prevented him from leaving the Den before eleven o'clock. The young gentleman's head was splitting and he could barely stand on his feet, but he was quite pleased with the time he had spent with his friends and Mrs.Bree's brothel staff. His expensive suit, ruined by yesterday's downpour, did not seem such a tragedy to him now, but he knew that his mother's disapproving gaze awaited him at Greenhall, and that knowledge made Anthony sad. However, he did not feel "guilty of the sin of drunkenness and voluptuousness" that his mother sometimes gently reproached him for.

Sitting in the carriage on the way home, Anthony could not escape the memory of the night before: in the red-haired girls of the brothel he saw Vivian. She was his obsession, and her image kept him awake.

"Am I in love with her? – thought young Cranford with genuine surprise. – But is it possible to fall in love with any one in so short a time? I only met her yesterday! No, I think it's her beauty that does that to my mind. She is the most beautiful woman in England and perhaps in the whole world. Vivian is my cousin. I should not think of her…and yet she does not leave my thoughts! Am I henceforth lost, or can I drive this unwelcome obsession away? Anthony, don't lose your head! You know that almost all your father's inheritance has gone to your elder brother, and it is your destiny to marry a rich heiress. Vivian, as beautiful as she is, is even poorer than you. Remember that, remember that, and don't you dare fall in love with her."

When the carriage finally pulled into the Greenhall courtyard, Anthony hurried into the house to get to his room and go to bed: so tired was he after a merry night at the Den. However, scarcely had the master's son crossed the threshold of the beautiful front doors, when one of the footmen said to him, "Good afternoon, Mr. Cranford. Lady Cranford is expecting you in her study."

– Thank you, John. I'll see her later," Anthony answered the footman indifferently; he had no time to talk to his mother, and the only thing he wanted at the moment was to retire to his chambers, close the dark curtains, take off his ruined suit, lie down in his wide bed, and sleep until dinner.

– Lady Cranford wishes to see you immediately, sir," added footman John cautiously.

This phrase made Anthony feel irritated: was his mother, after all, determined to show her authority and give him, her son, an order? After all, it was an explicit, not at all veiled order, and this fact made the young man think that it would not be time for him to move out and thus get rid of his mother's insistent care?

But Anthony could not offend his mother: he respected her too much and appreciated everything she did for him.

Lady Cranford could have thrown her son out of Greenhall, for he was a grown man in his own right, but instead she rejoiced at his constant presence in the house, and paid his bills, which were not insignificant, for Anthony was fond of amusements of all kinds, hunting, and expensive, tailored suits and shoes. In addition, between mother and son since his birth established a warm affectionate relationship. So this time the young gentleman was ready to forgive his mother her order and obediently went to the place where he was expected.

The study in which Lady Cranford spent six hours every day was on the third floor, at the end of a long, bright corridor. Like the rest of the house, the Dowager Countess's study was cold, bright, and decorated with a pair of marble statues. Here the mistress of the house personally dealt with economic affairs, reconciling accounts, reading books and writing letters. She was a clever woman, and she held the reins of Greenhall in her own hands alone, needing neither counsellors nor secretaries.

– Good afternoon, mother," Anthony said, entering the study without knocking.

– Good afternoon, my dear," Lady Cranford answered him with a smile. – 'Do sit down. You don't look well.

The Countess had been counting the money she had spent on the house for the past month, but she put aside her papers and gestured to a chair against one of the walls.

– You are quite right, Mother, and I am very tired, and perhaps I shall fall asleep right here in your study, at your desk," Anthony grinned, and picked up the chair indicated to him and placed it opposite his mother's black lacquered desk.

– You need a drink of water. I'll call the servants right away…" Lady Cranford began, feeling somewhat guilty for not allowing Anthony to rest after a hard night's work. But this time her heart obeyed reason: no matter how tired her favourite son was, she was not going to postpone a serious conversation about his future.

– Thank you, it is not necessary," Anthony interrupted her insistently, wishing to hear a sermon or a reprimand as soon as possible, and then to shut himself up in his chamber and go to sleep. – You ordered me to come, and here I am. I am listening to you, mother.

Her son's cold tone did not embarrass the Countess. She folded her hands on her stomach, leaned back slightly in her chair and said:

– 'I think it's time we clarified the situation, my dear.

– What situation? – Anthony was sincerely surprised.

– Your future depends only on you. I hope you remember that a beneficial marriage....

– …this is my only chance for a trouble-free future, for I'm not fit for the army or anything else," young Cranford interrupted his mother in a bored tone.

"Why has she started up this conversation again?" – he thought with a faint smile.

– 'I'm glad you remember that. – The smile on Lady Cranford's face faded. – 'But you seem to take your reputation too lightly.

– My reputation? – Her son raised his eyebrows.

– Exactly, my dear. I can well understand your youthful ardour, but a taste for amusements of this kind, and you know what amusements I mean, may destroy any hope of your marrying a rich girl. No father wants a husband for his daughter who spends his time with corrupt women and comes home tired and looking like he's been drinking bottle after bottle of whiskey all night. Believe me, I know what I'm saying.

– How will my sweet wife know about my nightly amusements?

– London, my dear, is not such a big city. There are already rumours about you and your friends. And those rumours were brought to me by none other than Viscount Willoughby.

– How did old Wiloby know about this? – Young Cranford asked unhappily: it was not pleasant news.

– How should I know? I'm just stating a fact. It's time you grew up, Anthony. You should marry a rich girl. A rich girl, my son. – Lady Cranford looked gravely at her son, and there was not a shadow of a smile on her face. – Now confess to me: are you in love with Vivian?