Wingless Bird
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– You are cruel, cousin. Have you no heart? – Miss Cowell frowned and rose abruptly from her chair: her blood was boiling with anger, and she was determined to leave her cousin's and aunt's company before the volcano exploded in her. – Please forgive me, auntie: I have a headache. I always get a headache when the sky is covered with such dark, rainy clouds.
– Of course, my dear, go to your chambers and lie down," Lady Cranford said to her gently: she was glad that there had been a misunderstanding between her son and her niece, for it might have led to a cessation of communication between them. She had a hope of that.
– Could you send Jane to me with a wet towel? – Vivian asked.
– 'I will.
Vivian made a deep curtsy and retired to her chambers. Now that she was free from the scrutiny of her aunt's and her cousin's watchful eyes, her cheeks flamed with anger, and her heart was full of indignation and contempt for Anthony, who regarded her as a "wingless bird". Vivian put her fingers to her forehead and wrinkled her nose: she had a real headache and wished she could lie down.
The Cranfords went on with their breakfast, but a few minutes later there was a low rumble of thunder that made them hurriedly drink their morning coffee and go about their business.
– But, Miss Viviane, what do you want with this De Croix girl? You have me! – Jane asked quietly, sitting at the head of her friend's bed and wiping her forehead with a cold, wet towel. She knew of Vivian's plans and feared that her idol would forget about her, Jane, and trade her for the "French rat."
– Silly girl, I don't want her friendship at all! – Vivian laughed at this and took Jane's hand. – 'And there's no way I'm leaving you!
– But then why do you want it? – wondered the confused Jane.
Vivian smiled ironically and replied:
– 'Because, my dear Jane, a wise man once said: "Keep your friends close to you and your enemies even closer!".
Chapter 9
It was one day before Lady Marlborough's reception, for which London high society was waiting with bated breath, and the dresses Vivian had ordered were still not ready. The seamstresses worked day and night, and all the dresses were made, but the embroidery, which the customer wished to have on each dress, was complicated and time-consuming. Fortunately, to Vivian and Jane's delight, the hats, shoes, capes, jackets, cloaks and gloves had been delivered yesterday and tried on the same evening. But this was not enough for Vivian: what use was all this luxury if the centrepiece of her new image was not ready? The day before the exciting and extremely important event, the girl received a note from the atelier, which said that her dresses would be ready and delivered by the evening, which made the already desperate beauty breathe a sigh of relief and smile. But alas! Vivian waited in vain all evening, impatiently looking out of the window, hoping to see the messenger with her new dresses.
The night passed, the morning came, and with it an early breakfast, and with every hour Miss Cowell grew more anxious: what if the dresses were never delivered? It would be a tragedy, for the reception at Lady Marlborough's, which was to change Vivian's life dramatically, would be today!
The evening drew nearer, but the dresses were still missing. At luncheon, Vivian, full of grief, could no longer cope with her emotions, and she had no appetite at all.
Her condition did not escape her aunt's notice, and she asked her what was the cause of her nervous jerky movements, silence, and sad eyes.
– I am very sorry you have noticed my grief, dear aunt. The dresses that were to have been delivered last night have not arrived, and I have not a single dress worthy of my debut," Vivian confessed frankly, hoping that her aunt would help her to find a way out of this unpleasant situation.
– How unfortunate. But, my dear, your blue dress suits you very well and looks quite elegant," Lady Cranford tried to comfort her.
– No, no, not at all! How can I appear in it among guests who will be dressed in splendid gowns and suits? No, auntie, I am afraid if I go to Lady Marlborough's party dressed like that, I shall be mocked, and no honourable gentleman will even look in my direction. – Vivian sighed sadly, and flung up her hands: "Oh, auntie, what am I to do?
Lady Cranford wondered if perhaps she could lend her niece one of her new dresses that had never been worn.
– I have some brand new dresses that were delivered to me a couple of days ago, but I'm afraid they won't fit you, as they are made to my figure and height. Besides, as you may have noticed, I am still in mourning for my deceased husband, and all my clothes are black," she said, and, wishing to comfort her niece, for whom she was beginning to feel a real kinship, she took her hand in hers. – But don't be sad, my dear, we shall think of something.
Vivian, who had not expected such a friendly gesture from her strict aunt, smiled gratefully at her and squeezed her palm tightly.
– Shall we send one of our footmen to the atelier? What if your order is ready, but for some reason it was forgotten to be delivered? – The Countess suddenly suggested: she knew well how many orders every atelier serving the families of London's high society had. – At which atelier were your dresses ordered?
– Mrs.Davidson's atelier," Vivian answered readily.
– My dear, Mrs.Davidson's is one of the most sought-after ateliers in London and caters for half of all the noble families in London, including our own. There have been a couple of occasions when our orders have been sent to the wrong address and we have received orders from other families. I'm sure your dresses have been delivered by mistake to someone else. – Lady Cranford immediately summoned her breakfast footman and ordered him to go to Mrs.Davidson's studio to find out what fate had befallen Vivian's dresses. Then she turned to her niece again: "My dear, don't be afraid to trouble me if you have any difficulties.
– I thank you, auntie. And how can I ever thank you for your care? – Vivian replied softly, but she was full of wonder: why had her aunt suddenly become so kind to her? Was this some kind of game? A pretence? Should she be trusted? – Oh, I only just noticed that breakfast was without your son!
– Anthony is not feeling well. – The Countess raised her beautiful eyebrows slightly: her son had drunk too much red wine at dinner last night, which naturally displeased his mother.
"He drinks too much!" – she thought, but did not dare to share her anxiety with her niece, for they still knew so little of each other.