Wingless Bird

***

Anthony Cranford did not leave his chambers: he had spent last night drearily, and, from the unbearable weight of the thoughts that filled his mind, had drunk four glasses of red wine more than he should have at di

What was the cause of such a completely uncharacteristic behaviour? After all, at home, Anthony did not allow himself more than two glasses of wine at di

Vivian. It was she who had been the culprit of his intoxication last night. This girl had disturbed the peace not only of her aunt, but also of her cousin.

The image of the red-haired cousin refused to leave Anthony's mind and, what was worse, his imagination painted him pictures full of the voluptuous intimacy that had tormented him without sleep every night since the modest Miss Cowell had appeared at Greenhall. He had thought that after he had called his cousin a "wingless bird," and that she had evidently borne a grudge against him (for she had avoided him and would not talk to him), he would feel better and be relieved of the obsession, but alas! Vivian's coldness only made him more passionate, and young Cranford was horrified to realise that his cousin had not only deprived him of peace and sleep, but had stolen his heart. And this he did not need, so unfortunate, for he was soon to be married to another rich girl. Anthony sincerely hoped that Vivian would marry as soon as possible, preferably right after her debut, which might cool his passion for her, because another man's wife is just a house cat, and he liked wild and free.

The young aristocrat had left his bed in the morning, but, dressed in a cosy dressing-gown, spent his time in the quiet of his richly furnished chambers: Lady Cranford had given him permission to furnish them to his own taste, and, owing to this circumstance, Anthony was surrounded by rather bright but elegant furniture.

He was sitting on a soft blue velvet sofa, with a book in his hands, but the lines were blurred before his eyes: Anthony wondered how he could avoid being taken in by his feelings for his cousin. Should he just ignore her? Avoid her? Pretend she didn't exist? What should he do with these u

There was a knock at the door.

– Come in," said the master of the room indifferently.

The door opened, and Emily came in: she was beautiful, that dark-haired maid.

– You? What do you want? – Anthony frowned slightly.

– Good afternoon, Mr. . Cranford," she said with a smile, and took a step towards the sofa, but Anthony stopped her with an impatient gesture that made her feel slightly embarrassed and put her back against the door. – I came to see how you were feeling, and to see if I could bring some lunch to your chambers. You were not seen at breakfast today.

– I have no need of food. You may go now," Anthony said indifferently, and fixed his eyes once more on his book.

– But, may I… You ordered me not to come to you last night, and I would like to know what was the reason…" Emily began in the firm, sweet tone she used to flirt with her mistress's son.

– Remember for the future: the fact that you spend nights with me doesn't make you think you're someone I have to answer to! – Anthony was angry: his mistress suddenly thought she could ask him such questions?

The maid only smiled slyly.

– You are right, Mr. Cranford, I think I am a little conceited. But shall I come to your chambers tonight?

– No. I shall be busy," said her lover. – But the day after tomorrow I shall see you at the usual time. Now go and don't bother me any more with your silly questions.

From Mr. . Cranford's cold tone, she knew that the moment was not the right one for flirting, and she was right: Anthony was in a bad temper and angry with himself for falling in love with his pe

"Anthony is only mine. He doesn't know it yet, but I won't let anyone take him away from me. Even when he marries, I will remain his mistress and bear him many children," thought the cu

Chapter 10

– It was all gone.

Vivian lay on the bed, staring almost unblinkingly at the high white ceiling. Rare but large tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears of deep disappointment and bitterness. But not a single groan, not a single cry, not a single curse escaped the girl's lips: why all this? Wailing could hardly save this evening and get her dresses delivered at least an hour before she left for the ball. And if a miracle did happen, and the dresses were in Greenhall right this minute, would Vivian have time to prepare for such an important event in just one hour? An hour! Sixty minutes! It would be in an hour that Lady Cranford and Anthony would get into their carriage and drive to Lady Marlborough's ball, and she, the inconsolable niece, would be left in her room to weep silently and feel herself the most miserable person in the whole world.

Everything was gone. The dresses were never delivered. The footman sent by Aunt Beatrice to Mrs.Davidson's atelier had still not returned. Vivian would not be going to the long-awaited reception. Her debut was not cancelled, of course, but postponed indefinitely. How long would she have to wait now for another chance? A week? Two? In high society, during the season when unmarried girls are hunting rich suitors, a fortnight is an eternity. An eternity in which all the rich bachelors would be sorted out. And who will she get? Someone's youngest son, like her cousin? No, that was not to be: the beautiful Miss Cowell needed to become the lawful wedded wife of a rich, or better still, a very rich man, and as soon as possible. Time has no patience. Time kills. Time is always trying to take away the dearest, the most precious thing.

– Oh, Miss Vivian… Please don't cry! It pains me so much to see you suffer! – exclaimed faithful Jane.

Vivian's head rested in her friend's lap, and her body was motionless, as if all strength had left it and turned it into one of the statues her aunt loved so much.

– Alas, Jane, it is beyond me. But I am not suffering, no. I am filled with disappointment.

– But what are you so disappointed about?

– The knowledge that everything I need depends on a pretty dress. But that's ridiculous. Isn't it, Jane? Just think of it: I can't go to a ball, my debut, because of some piece of cloth! – Vivian sighed irritably.