Wingless Bird
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– 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?
Chapter 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.