Wingless Bird

Морион Анна

It was only a couple of minutes before lunch, but Vivian had already appeared on the South Balcony, accompanied by Jane. Having previously locked themselves in Vivian's chambers, the girls had hurried to prepare their guest for lunch with her wealthy relatives. Vivian's luggage had been brought to the room before her walk in the garden, and while Jane hastily searched through the suitcase, and then ironed with a hot charcoal iron the dress which her miss wished to wear for the occasion, Vivian herself washed her face, palms, and armpits in cold water, and applied a drop of sweet but not cloying perfume to her neck. Jane then helped the girl into a fresh dress and tucked her unruly red curls into her hair.

– Luncheon will be on the South Balcony," Vivian said to her maid, admiring her reflection in the large, oak-framed mirror.

– 'Our ma'am likes to have lunch there, Miss Vivian,' Jane replied, also admiring her new mistress's beauty.

– Is there much sunshine there? Shall I wear a hat?

– No, Miss Vivian: the luncheon table is always placed in the shade.

– That's fine! – Vivian grabbed her white gloves. – Well, I'm ready! Lead the way!

– But, miss, you're not wearing any jewellery! – Jane exclaimed.

– Is it so important? – her mistress frowned.

– Of course it is! You must have noticed that Lady Cranford wears a gold chain with a small cross on it?

–

О? No, I must have overlooked it," said Vivian indifferently, and it was the truth: whenever she met her aunt, the girl looked only into her cold blue eyes to show her fearlessness before her. – But if you assure me that it's important… – Without finishing her sentence, she took out a small round silver box from her suitcase, pressed it to her breast and said quietly to Jane: "This is my mother's jewellery. She had a hard life.

– Oh, Miss Vivian, I don't mean to be rude, but I already know something about your mother," she smiled sadly.

– You do? How? – Vivian gave her a surprised look.

– Lady Cranford was talking about your mother to her son, Mr. Cranford, as your carriage drove up to the house. And I stood behind them and heard everything.

– And what did my aunt tell my cousin?

– Not much, miss… But I gather from what she said that she and your mother had a complicated relationship," Jane said delicately. – I beg you, Miss Vivian, do not tell Lady Cranford that I told you what I heard!

– Foolish girl, of course I won't," said the red-haired beauty, smiling forcibly, flattered by the confidence of her maid, good sweet Jane.

"So my aunt has spoken unflatteringly of my poor mother! But should I be surprised? She must be insanely glad that my mother's act has caused my mad grandfather's whole inheritance to go to her alone! I know: she despises my mother and she despises me! But, dear auntie, I am not my mother, and I will not let her spoil my life! Do you despise me? Despise me! But it is I who will use you and your pretence of hospitality, and it is I who will triumph, and, having achieved my purpose, I will trample your name into the mud!" – Vivian thought with anger in her soul. Jane's story had made her furious, but she knew how to hide her feelings and smile when she wanted to throw up her hands in anger.

From now on, Vivian knew there was no turning back. She could not forgive her aunt for insulting the memory of her beloved mother.

Opening the box, the girl took out a thin gold chain with a small figure of a bird in flight and put it round her beautiful white neck.

"I am not afraid of you, auntie. There is not an ounce of fear in me, neither of your voice nor of your cold gaze!" – Miss Cowell thought with a mocking smile, and then added aloud: – Lead me, Jane. My auntie doesn't like tardiness.

Vivian, in her soft blue cotton dress, even more beautiful than before, made an indelible impression on the South Balcony, where the Cranford family were already seated at the round, richly laid table. Anthony was dazzled by her, and his mother narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and watched anxiously as her son fell more and more under the insidious spell of her poor relative. At that moment Lady Cranford became even more convinced of her intention to marry off her neglectful niece to the first man who asked for her hand in marriage. Let it be a sickly and toothless ugly old man, if only to get Vivian out of her arms as soon as possible and protect from her the naive Anthony, blinded by her devilish beauty.

Young Cranford hastened to lead his cousin to the table and seated her in a beautifully upholstered chair.

– What a beautiful piece of jewellery," said Lady Cranford in a slightly trembling voice, glancing at her niece's neck.

– Thank you, aunt. I inherited it from my mother," Vivian smiled charmingly at her.

"Dear Lord, does she hurt me on purpose?" – Lady Cranford shuddered in her heart, but answered Vivian with a calm smile, so unsuited to her blue, cold eyes.

Chapter 5

Despite the silent tension that prevailed at lunch, and which all three of them unwittingly felt, the meal passed in a lovely discussion of today's heat, Lady Cranford's magnificent garden, and the latest rumours from the royal palace. However, the conversation then drifted smoothly into a discussion of politics and war, and Vivian, who came from a small remote town, could not keep up that part of the conversation, but caught every word her aunt and cousin said carefully. It was only after a while that Anthony noticed how silent his cousin had become and realised that she simply had nothing to say about the royal family, politics or the war with France. And how could a provincial girl have such knowledge? Feeling annoyed, Anthony tried to turn the conversation in another direction, but his mother stubbornly returned to the topics that interested her and ranted about this or that event.

– 'Mother, our talk of politics and war is tiring our guest,' Anthony finally said bluntly to his mother.

– Is that true, my dear? – Lady Cranford raised her eyebrows, though she could see the bored eyes of her niece, who was fiddling with the gold chain round her neck with her long white fingers.

– Alas, Auntie, I am not good at royal gossip, politics, or war," she answered frankly: she was terribly annoyed at Aunt Beatrice's way of making long monologues about things in which she, Vivian, had no interest. She had been looking forward to hearing the latest news about the season, high society, fashion and dancing, and was now leaning back in her chair, bored out of her mind (which her aunt thought was grossly rude). But on hearing Anthony's words, earnestly desiring to allow her to take part in the conversation again, Vivian levelled her back and smiled gratefully at her cousin, much to her mother's displeasure.