Читать книгу Wingless Bird - Анна Морион - Страница 7

Hearing such an unexpected question from his mother's lips, Anthony smiled sarcastically and tilted his head to the side.

– Am I in love with Vivian? – He repeated with a merry chuckle.

– I want the truth. I will not tolerate lies," said his mother, with pressure.

– My dear mother, what made you believe that I had fallen in love with my cousin? – laughed the young man a beautiful velvet laugh.

– I am not blind, my dear, and I can see how much you admire her," Lady Cranford said quietly. Her son's laughing response to her question confused her: was he laughing? Was her suspicion so misplaced that it made Anthony laugh?

– Vivian is beautiful, Mother, and not even you can deny it. I am a man, after all, and I appreciate a woman's beauty. My admiration for her is a natural thing, and besides, I have never met such beauties in my life. Before I met her, the French rose, Mademoiselle de Croix, was the ideal of all men and the envy of many women in our society, but when Vivian goes out into the world, the poor French beauty will have to yield her pedestal," Anthony explained patiently.

But how he was lying! The image of Vivian haunted him even when he was amusing himself with corrupt women! But young Cranford realised that to tell his mother the truth would be a great mistake, and one that would hurt his unsuspecting young cousin in the first place.

"Could Vivian love me? When I converse with her, she is embarrassed, and her cheeks are covered with a delightful blush… How do I know what thoughts lurk in her fiery-haired head? But soon she'll make her debut, and she'll be followed by dozens of admirers. Will she remember me if her attention and hands are sought…" – Anthony thought involuntarily, as he was suddenly interrupted by his mother's displeased voice:

– What are you thinking about, my dear?

He looked at his mother: she was looking at his face carefully, as if she were trying to read her son's thoughts.

– Mother, I assure you, you need not worry. Vivian is beautiful and sweet, but I do not wish to live my life in poverty. Besides, I have only brotherly feelings and pity for her. Soon she will marry well, and I will marry well, and you will realise how unfair your words were. – Anthony rose to his feet. – And, believe me, you ought not to talk to me again on the subject. But I'm terribly tired and would like to take a nap.

– Of course, my dear. Go on. But promise me that this night of alcohol and debauchery will be your last. – The Countess rose from her chair too. – My boy, everything I do, I do for you.

– I know, Mother. I thank you for opening my eyes to this embarrassing situation. – Anthony made a slight bow to his mother, left the study and hurried to his chambers.

As he walked down the long, bright corridor, young Cranford chuckled a little: did his mother really think he was willing to sacrifice his prosperous future for a penniless, albeit beautiful as an angel, cousin?

"No, I'm not in love with Vivian. Not one bit. I only admire her. And if she has any tender feelings for me, I will not reciprocate them," decided Anthony, and, locking himself in his chambers, fell asleep as a dead man.

Jane and Vivian spent the day visiting the best ateliers and the most expensive shops in London. Both girls were delighted: they joked, laughed, Vivian tried on everything she liked, and Jane ah-hahed in admiration.

Vivian's beauty was a magnet for the admiring gazes of the men around her and the envious gazes of the women. Everyone wondered: who was this red-haired beauty? And the young aristocrats who visited the same shops and saw this unknown miss could not get rid of the thought that the appearance of "that redhead" would spoil for them all the charm of the season.

– Who is that girl looking at the ribbons? And why is she following me? – Vivian quietly asked her new friend Jane (now the girls were really friends).

Vivian had noticed a young dark-haired beauty in the shop of fabrics and ladies' accessories a quarter of an hour ago, who, trying not to betray her curiosity, was glancing at Miss Cowell's figure and face. But Vivian did not pretend to notice this unwelcome attention, but only inquired quietly about her from Jane, who might have seen the beauty before at Lady Cranford's receptions. The stranger was an aristocrat, and there could be no doubt about it: her expensive clothes were conspicuous, and her dark, wavy hair, arranged in a high style, shone with a healthy shine.

– It is Mademoiselle de Croix! – Jane whispered in her friend's ear with a glimpse of the dark-haired beauty. – She is considered the first beauty of London! She has a lot of admirers! But when she saw you, of course, she realised she had a rival.

– A rival? I don't want to be anyone's rival! – Vivian frowned her eyebrows: it was the truth. All that the girl had hoped for was universal sympathy and favour!

– Alas, Miss Vivian, you must realise that you are now in London, in high society. And there, I tell you, such passions rage! And how much gossip there is every day!" Jane hastened to reassure her. – You see, everyone knows that this mademoiselle's father betrayed his master Bonaparte and fled to England. And there, in France, all his possessions were confiscated from him! Now he's not as rich as he used to be, and he's trying to marry off his daughter to someone richer. Many men have sought her hand, but she has refused them all: she wants an earl or a duke! Ha!" The maid snorted contemptuously.

– But what's wrong with wanting to marry a man who has a high title? – Vivian whispered.

– Why, there's nothing wrong with it! But rich dukes do not marry brides who are poorer than they are, not even one as beautiful as Mademoiselle de Croix. – Jane shrugged her shoulders. – She has chosen a game that is beyond her! She'll be a maiden all her life! And so be it!

Miss Cowell smiled falsely, hiding her bitterness behind a smile: if this beautiful French girl, the daughter of a rather rich and noble man, had only a tiny chance of marrying a member of English high society, what awaited her, Vivian, the daughter of a poor provincial gentleman?

Without realising it, Jane had hurt her friend, but Vivian was silent about it, because she had told the bitter truth: rich aristocrats do not marry poor beauties. They almost never marry for love, but are guided by sober judgement. Rich men marry rich brides, even if they are not beautiful and have fragile health, or are already sick.

"Ah, why is Anthony only the second son? I could have had him easily! It's a pity his older brother is already married, because now I'll have to compete for the attention of rich aristocrats with many high society misses! And to make matters worse, I've got a rival. This Frenchwoman is clearly not in the mood for friendship with me… And how could we be friends? Our histories and aims are too similar! – Vivian thought with displeasure. – I'll write to them today and tell them about the Frenchwoman. I need new directions!"

– Well, in that case, I feel sorry for this Mademoiselle de Croix. – Vivian winked at Jane, and she smiled broadly.

– Oh, Miss Viviane, you'll be even more beautiful in your new clothes! And then that girl will die of envy! – Jane whispered excitedly.

– But I think I ought to make her acquaintance. At least for the sake of propriety," said Miss Cowell thoughtfully, and picked up a pair of long white gloves. – Are these in fashion? They are lovely! I haven't got them yet!

– All the aristocrats are wearing them now. Take two pairs, only white. They're usually worn to balls and receptions. Even Lady Cranford wears them a lot. But she always wears black. Still mourning her dead husband. – Jane cleared her throat quietly and asked, barely audibly: – But, Miss Vivian, what's the matter with your funds? You bought so much today and ordered a grand fifteen new dresses, and a dozen pairs of shoes…

– Dear Jane, please don't think about it," Vivian interrupted her friend in a cheerful tone. – I have enough money to be a London fashionista. But you are right: I should get two more pairs of gloves… No, I think I shall get three! And these silk ribbons. Oh, how beautiful! What lively colours! Oh, Jane, I can't wait for my debut! How exciting to even think about it! – She smiled dreamily and pressed her palms to her chest. – I will dance with the most brilliant gentlemen! Which man is the most desirable gentleman in England?

– Duke Nightingale! – Jane answered without a second thought.

– Nightingale? – Vivian asked with a laugh. – His ancestors were birds?

– I think it sounds very romantic! Rumour has it that his great-grandmother was the mistress of one of the kings, and loved to sing, and for that the king gave her the title of Duchess of Nightingale.

– Not to take offence, but, for a maid, you know a great deal about the fashions of high society and the first men of the kingdom! – Vivian said jokingly to her friend. – But that's fine! You shall be my counsellor here in London, and when I marry I shall take you into my house and double your salary.

– Oh, Miss Vivian, I hope you will find what you are looking for," Jane replied earnestly. – 'And I shall be glad to work for you! Lady Cranford is very good to her servants, but I confess I am afraid of them… When she speaks to me, I get a chill inside.

– Poor Jane! How I understand you! My aunt sometimes frightens me too," Miss Cowell smiled. – And yet how do you know so much about English nobility?

Jane's face flushed slightly.

– 'I don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations, no! It's just that, for the nobility, servants don't exist. Aristocrats and rich people do not take us even for living people, and therefore openly discuss in our presence everyone and everything that happens in their circle. And when Lady Cranford herself gives us a reception, we get so much news and gossip that we sometimes stay up all night discussing the guests and everything we have heard from them.

"How convenient! Jane will be my eyes and ears!" – thought Vivian, and taking her friend's hand, asked in an affectionate tone:

– 'Dear Jane, may I ask you a favour?

– Of course, Miss Vivian! – Jane smiled broadly and squeezed her idol's hand tightly.

– When you hear gossip about my humble person, pass it on to me. And, however horrible the gossip may be, don't be afraid of offending my feelings or upsetting me. It's important to me to know what they say about me in high society," Vivian asked in a hushed tone.

– After your debut, I'm sure the gossip won't be long in coming. And I'll keep my ear to the ground. But be prepared to be slandered by jealous maidens and old maids!

– Oh, I have no doubts about that! But let's pay for these gloves and go and choose hats! – Miss Cowell smiled broadly and pulled Jane with her.

After quickly passing Mademoiselle de Croix, who was still staring at her rival, the girls left the shop and walked briskly towards the carriage waiting for them round the corner. They were so engrossed in discussing the beautiful Frenchwoman that they did not notice the bustle, the carriages or the people around them, and soon Vivian accidentally bumped into a passer-by walking in the opposite direction. The hat flew off the girl's head, revealing to the world the splendour of her fiery hair, which, in the sunlight, burned brighter than usual.

– Oh, I beg your pardon, sir! – Vivian exclaimed with remorse in her voice, glancing at the man whom her inattention had brought her into contact with.

– 'It is I who apologise to you, miss,' replied a handsome, tall, rather young man gallantly. He was dressed in a grey riding suit, and his feet were adorned with tall black boots.

"He's a good-looking man! And what beautiful hair he has: what a striking white colour!" – involuntarily thought Vivian, looking at the stranger, and when he smiled, the girl's cheeks suddenly lit up, and she hastened to look away from his handsome face.

The stranger bowed slightly and was ready to speak again to the beautiful woman who had so unexpectedly got in his way, but Vivian was terribly embarrassed by the situation, so she hurried to continue on her way. The man who had made her cheeks flush looked at her with admiration, and a slight smile curved his handsome, thin lips.

– Miss Vivian! There is no way…" Jane began enthusiastically.

– No, please, Jane! Be quiet!" Vivian interrupted her. – God, what a disgrace!

Jane was tempted to say something, but she obediently remained silent. She smiled mysteriously all the way, making her friend wonder what was the meaning of her smile.

Dinner at Greenhall passed in sepulchral silence.

Vivian was full of fresh emotions and impressions that she had received during that exciting day, and Anthony still felt unwell, but forced himself to appear at the dinner so as not to upset his mother. The landlady herself was busy thinking about her son's future and calculating the money she would have to spend on a dinner party in her niece's honour.

It was not until all three had eaten their dessert that Lady Cranford looked at her niece and asked in an indifferent tone:

– How was your day, my dear? I hope you had a good time?

– It has been a wonderful day, auntie," she answered in the same indifferent tone. – I did a lot of shopping and renewed my wardrobe. The new clothes will be made as soon as possible and will be delivered to Greenhall a few days before my debut.

– That's wonderful. I am delighted for you.

– Thank you, Auntie.

With that, the trio left the dining room and went to their rooms.

It was not until bedtime, when Jane had changed her friend into her nightdress and braided her hair, that Vivian learnt from her that the handsome stranger she had so awkwardly encountered in a crowded London street was none other than England's most desirable groom, the Duke of Nightingale.