Wingless Bird
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Jane made a hasty curtsy and smiled a broad, sincere smile at Vivian.
– It will be a pleasure to serve you, miss! – she exclaimed quietly, and her face shone like a new cent.
Vivian smiled back at her.
– It's a pleasure to meet you, Jane. I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time together! – Vivian said in a friendly tone to her maid.
The maid could not find words to reply and only curtsied again.
– Jane, show Miss Cowell to her chambers. Anthony, take care of her luggage. Luncheon will be served in an hour on the South Balcony," she ordered in a commanding tone, the mistress of Greenhall (which her eldest son Richard was to inherit on her death). – But be on time, Vivian. I don't tolerate tardiness.
Jane and Vivian went to the latter's chambers, and Anthony was about to go into the house and give orders for his cousin's luggage when his mother's quiet but imperious voice stopped him halfway:
– Don't you dare even think about her, my son.
Anthony turned round to his mother, gave her a sarcastic smile and said:
– Mother, I am well aware of my position.
She grinned contentedly.
Anthony continued his way.
Lady Cranford hurried to her study and locked the door to reread her late sister's last letter once more. She wished she could feel pity for her niece, but, against her will, she felt only dislike for her.
Chapter 3
– Here's your room, miss! I washed it to a shine this morning. Alas, the carpet isn't dishevelled… You've come so suddenly, miss… But I'll do it to-morrow! – Jane chirped as she led Vivian to the tall, wide white doors.
– Don't trouble yourself, Jane. I shall only sleep in these chambers. I didn't come all the way from Casterbridge to spend my time in my own rooms," Vivian reassured her: Jane was infinitely friendly, and it seemed to her that they might be friends. Vivian had left all her friends behind her in her native town, and in London she knew only her aunt and her cousin. And she longed for a kind soul to lean on and gossip with!
Jane, of course, was a maid of no birth, and Vivian was the daughter of a small nobleman. But Vivian knew that there were no ranks in friendship, only feelings. The girls were the same age, the same height, and both liked to watch people and then giggle at one person or another for no reason at all. Young, fun-loving heads.
– Oh miss, I'm sure you won't be bored! The season will soon begin! – Jane said. – Our ma'am gives such sumptuous receptions! So many guests!
– It's a sin for my aunt not to have such receptions when she has everything she needs! This house could hold hundreds of guests! – exclaimed Vivian with a laugh. – But, Jane, don't call me Miss; call me Vivian.
– Come, miss, what's the use of calling you by your first name to a servant? – Jane's astonishment was unbounded: this beauty was so kind! But still, she could not accept her excessive kindness: it was not proper for her, a simple maid, the daughter of a shoemaker and a washerwoman, to call this beautiful miss with such familiarity! – But if you wish, I will call you Miss Vivian.
– Well, it's many times better than Miss Cowell," said Vivian with a laugh. – And yet, what a huge and beautiful house my aunt has!
The compliment was sincere: the three-storey stone house was like a medieval castle, but full of light. Lady Cranford loved daylight, so heavy green curtains of real velvet were only drawn over the large, clear-glass windows when night fell on the town. The white marble floors and staircases glistened with cleanliness (the lady of the house demanded that they be washed and polished every day). There were no carpets, but the walls were decorated with modest but elegant mouldings and beautiful paintings, both originals and copies of famous artists. Every twenty paces there were white marble sculptures, copies of the works of famous sculptors. Lady Cranford loved art and spent a great deal of money on paintings and sculptures. After the death of her husband, who died of consumption ten years ago, she transformed the once dark and gloomy house into a place of light and art. Every piece of furniture, every curl in the carved ceiling, every vase of flowers – everything had been thought out to the last detail. And yet, this bright, beautiful house breathed a dead coldness and seemed uninhabited.
Alas, the guest quarters were no different from the other rooms of the house and were also something cold, elegant, and bright. The marble floor, however, was covered with a thick red carpet, which was pleasant to tread barefoot, which pleased Vivian. A large soft bed with silk sheets, a white chest of drawers, white walls and ceiling. By one of the windows, however, was a soft sofa upholstered in scarlet velvet and two chairs of the same kind, and near the other window stood a light-coloured carved dressing-table and a soft pouffe. In the centre of this scarlet group stood an austere-looking light table, on which stood a lovely silver, but completely empty vase.
– It's so cold in here… And not a single flower! – Vivian said quietly as she entered her chambers and looked around.
Jane followed noiselessly behind her guest and kept her eyes on her.
– Oh, it's my fault, Miss Cowell," she began.
– Miss Vivian," Vivian corrected her calmly.
– Miss Vivian," Jane repeated obediently, and went on guiltily: – 'Lady Cranford ordered me to put together a beautiful bouquet for you, but I haven't had time-I can do it now! I'll make you the most beautiful bouquet in the world!
Jane was ready to do anything to please her new miss: Vivian looked a little distressed and hugged her shoulders shiveringly, though it was a sunny June day outside.
– Is there a garden here? – Vivian raised her dainty eyebrows.
– Of course, miss! The largest and most beautiful in all London! Our ma'am loves flowers and plants of all kinds," Jane smiled at her.
– It's beautiful! – Miss Cowell smiled broadly and clapped her hands together. – 'Let's go together! I'll pick the bouquet myself and admire my aunt's efforts.
The girls laughed as they left the cold white room and ran almost at a run to the garden.
Jane was not exaggerating when she said that Lady Cranford's garden was unequalled even in a city as vast as London: it was beautiful, rich in plants and flowers, and smelt of summer. The flowers shone with all the colours of the rainbow, and the delicate shades of each of the seven, and their variety delighted the eyes and hearts of lovers of the gifts of nature. Thick funny bumblebees flew from one flower to another, sometimes chasing away butterflies perched on the wide-open buds. The wide, well-maintained paths were paved with large, flat stone slabs – it was a pleasure to walk along them and enjoy the surrounding beauty. In the middle of the garden was a small lake with clear, cold water. Next to it stood a small wooden house, where a family of two snow-white swans with five grey chicks lived. Not far from the lake was a beautiful wooden gazebo where Lady Cranford and her son drank morning tea on warm days. There were marble statues of half-naked maidens everywhere, and a small round stone fountain in the middle of the garden, in which birds could often be seen bathing and drinking.