Читать книгу Vanity Fair - William Thackeray - Страница 4

One sunny morning in June, early in the 1800s, Miss Amelia Sedley and Miss Rebecca Sharp left school. The carriage which took them away from Miss Pinkerton’s school for young ladies was filled with gifts and flowers for Amelia, for everyone loved her; but nobody cried when Rebecca left.

We are going to see a great deal of Amelia, so there is no harm in saying straight away that she was a dear little creature. She is not a heroine because her nose was rather short and her face was too round, though it shone with rosy health. She had a lovely smile and her eyes were bright with good humour, except when they were filled with tears, which happened a great deal too often because she had the kindest heart in the world. And when she left school she did not know whether to cry or not. She was glad to go home, but she was very sad to leave her friends at school.

Well, at last the goodbyes were over and the carriage drove away. In her hand Amelia held a letter from Miss Pinkerton, the school’s headmistress, which was full of praise for Amelia’s educational achievements and the sweetness of her nature.

Amelia’s companion, Miss Rebecca Sharp, had no letter from Miss Pinkerton, and was not at all sad to leave school. Indeed, she was delighted.

‘I hate the place,’ she said. ‘I never want to see it again! I wish it were at the bottom of the river, with Miss Pinkerton too.’

Amelia was shocked. ‘Oh, Rebecca!’ she cried. ‘How can you have such wicked thoughts?’

As you will guess, Rebecca was not a kind or forgiving person. She said that the world treated her very badly – though it was quite possible that she deserved the treatment she got.

Her father was an artist, who had given drawing lessons to the young ladies at Miss Pinkerton’s school. He was a clever man and a pleasant companion, but was always in debt and had too great a fondness for the bottle. When he was drunk, he used to beat his wife and daughter. He had married a French dancer, who had taught her daughter to speak perfect French. She had died young, leaving Rebecca to her father’s care.

And when Rebecca was seventeen, her father died. On his deathbed he wrote to Miss Pinkerton, begging her to look after his orphan daughter. So Miss Pinkerton employed Rebecca to speak French to the young ladies. In return, Rebecca lived in the school, was paid a few pounds a year, and was allowed to attend classes when she was free.

Rebecca, or Becky, as she was often called, was small and thin, with a pale face and light red hair. She usually kept her head down, but when she looked up, her green eyes were large and attractive, especially to men. Next to the tall, healthy young ladies in the school, Becky Sharp looked like a child. But being poor and in debt had taught her many adult lessons. She knew how to deal with angry shopkeepers demanding their money, and how to charm them into providing one more meal. Her father, who was very proud of her lively mind, had liked to have her at his drinking parties, though the conversation of his wild friends was hardly suitable for a young girl. But she had never been a girl, she said; she had been a woman since she was eight years old.

Rebecca hated the school. She argued and fought with Miss Pinkerton, and was jealous of the young ladies there. After the freedom of her father’s house, the school felt like a prison, and she was soon making plans for her escape.

Her only friend was Amelia Sedley, and when Amelia left school at the age of seventeen, Rebecca, now aged nineteen, left school too. She had obtained a post as a governess to the daughters of Sir Pitt Crawley, to whose house she would go after spending a few weeks with Miss Sedley’s family.

By the time the carriage arrived at the Sedleys’ house in Russell Square, Amelia had forgotten her sadness and was happy to be home again. She took great pleasure in showing Rebecca every room in the house, her piano, all her books, her dresses, her jewellery, and the wonderful presents which her brother Joseph had brought back for her from India.

‘It must be delightful to have a brother,’ said Rebecca. ‘He’s very rich, I expect, if he’s been in India. Is his wife very pretty?’

‘Oh yes, Joseph is wealthy, but he isn’t married,’ Amelia said.

‘Oh, what a pity!’ said Rebecca. ‘I was sure you said he was married, and I was hoping to meet your nieces and nephews.’

But the thought that was really going through Rebecca’s mind was this: ‘If Mr Joseph Sedley is rich and unmarried, why shouldn’t I marry him? I have only a few weeks, to be sure, but there’s no harm in trying.’

Should we blame Miss Sharp for her marriage ambitions? No, for we must remember that poor Rebecca had no kind mother to arrange this delicate business for her, and that if she did not get a husband for herself, there was no one else to do it for her.

So Rebecca became even more affectionate to Amelia, thanking her with tears in her eyes for the presents which her dear friend had given her. And when the dinner-bell rang, she went downstairs with her arm round her friend’s waist, as is the habit of young ladies who love each other dearly.

In the drawing-room they found a large, fat man, fashionably dressed in bright colours, sitting by the fire reading the newspaper. As the young ladies entered, he stood up quickly, and his face went red in alarm and embarrassment.

‘It’s only your sister, Joseph,’ said Amelia, laughing. ‘I’ve finished school, you know, and this is my friend, Miss Sharp. You’ve heard me talk about her.’

‘No, never,’ said Joseph in great confusion. ‘That is, yes – what very cold weather we’re having, Miss – ’, and he began to stir up the fire, although it was the middle of June.

‘He’s very handsome,’ Rebecca whispered, rather loudly.

‘Oh, do you think so?’ said Amelia. ‘I’ll tell him.’

‘No, please don’t!’ cried Miss Sharp, stepping back and keeping her eyes fixed modestly on the carpet.