Wingless Bird

– 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 a

– But then what are you interested in? – Lady Cranford asked in a deliberately surprised tone, as if her niece were an ignorant fool.

– I am interested in more practical things, auntie," Vivian replied politely, but assertively.

– Like what, for instance? – turned to her cousin.

– First of all, I am interested in when and how you plan to introduce me to the world," said the girl, looking intently into Lady Cranford's eyes.

"How tenacious she is! Just arrived, and here she is, already demanding that I put all my affairs aside and devote myself entirely to her debut! – thought her aunt with a slight chuckle. – But it is for the best: the sooner this girl goes out into the world, the sooner she will marry, and her marriage will relieve me of the duty of looking after her.

– You're right, my dear. But let's discuss it later, over afternoon tea in the gazebo by the lake. Besides, I don't think discussing your debut would be an interesting conversation for Anthony: young men are not much interested in such things," Lady Cranford smiled playfully.

– You are right, mother: the last thing in the world I want to hear about your feminine things. Let your feminine secrets remain an unknown universe to me," Anthony laughed softly. – But if the meal is at an end, please forgive me: I have some plans.

– Of course, my dear. We won't detain you," his mother smiled, this time with a perfectly sincere smile. – You may be free too, Vivian: but at seven o'clock sharp I expect you in the gazebo by the lake.

– Thank you, auntie. I shall be in my room: I think I am really tired from the journey. – Vivian rose readily from her chair, made a curtsy, and went to her room.

– 'See you to-night, mother. – Anthony kissed his mother's hand and disappeared from the balcony, leaving Lady Cranford alone.

But she was not bored: her thoughts were somewhere far away, in the past. And her heart clenched with pain and her soul was full of pangs of longing.

Despite the fact that Vivian and Anthony left the South Balcony at the same time, they did not have a long conversation, but only wished each other a good day and went to their rooms. The girl was a

When she reached her chambers, Vivian slammed the door quite loudly, and then threw her white gloves on the red carpet and exclaimed quietly:

– That woman! That wicked prim old woman! I hate her! How long will I have to endure her orders? I wish I could get married soon!

The girl went to the large window and looked out on the stone courtyard where the windows of her chambers actually faced.

"I must write to them. They need to know that I will do everything in my power to make our plan a reality. I won't let them down! – She thought, frowning her eyebrows and playing with her chain with her fingers. – So I must not let on that every word and deed of my heartless aunt hits me like a slap in the face. That woman is the Devil himself in a dress! I'll bear it all, and Lord knows I won't give her the pleasure of seeing me cry!"

Suddenly Miss Cowell's sharp green eyes caught sight of Anthony Cranford in the courtyard: he was striding towards a waiting, new-looking open carriage with a pair of snow-white horses. As if sensing someone's eyes on him, the young aristocrat stopped, turned round and looked up at the window at which his cousin was standing. Not expecting this act of his, Vivian did not immediately find what to do, but smiled and lightly waved at him. Anthony smiled in return, and touched his tall black hat with his fingers, and then deftly jumped into the carriage, which immediately drove him to the great iron gates leading from Greenhall to the centre of the town.

"My cousin is so gallant… And just how did my cruel aunt have such a marvellous son?" – Vivian thought as she looked at the carriage.

There was a knock at the door.

The girl took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, and once again hid her true feelings behind a dazzling smile.

– Come in! – she said.

Jane entered the chambers.

– I apologise, Miss Vivian, for disturbing you. I only wanted to know if you needed anything.

– How good of you to be here! – Vivian said sincerely: in this big, dead house Jane's maid was almost the only flame of warmth that warmed her soul. – I wouldn't mind a hot bath. Oh, and bring me a couple of blank sheets of paper, ink and a quill: I must write home.

– As you say, Miss Vivian! – Jane brightened up and ran out of the door.

In the time it took Jane and Emily, whom she had summoned to help her, to carry buckets of hot water into the spacious bathroom in Vivian's chamber behind a beautiful portable screen, the guest had written a lengthy letter, which Jane handed to Philip, the coachman. Soon Vivian was lying in hot water mixed with rose oil, and trying not to think of the heavy tete-a-tete with Aunt Beatrice that awaited her in the evening.

But the tea party in the gazebo by the lake was much friendlier than both ladies had expected, and within an hour they had arranged all the details of the future debut of the "dear" niece, as well as a sumptuous reception in her honour at Greenhall. It was decided that Vivian's first appearance should be a real furore, and this furore was scheduled for Friday: that was the day of the ball at the Duchess of Marlborough's – the most popular woman in London and the kingdom after the wife of His Royal Majesty the Prince Regent.

– I hope we shall soon find a good husband for you, my dear," said Lady Cranford, as if in passing, as the tea party drew to a close.

– I hope so too, dear aunt," Vivian smiled at her.

– This season promises to be a very good one for both you and Anthony: he has a rich bride to find. – This time the mistress of the manor decided to kill all possible hopes of her niece for marriage with her son and directly stated what fate awaited Anthony.

– Your son is a very handsome man. I am sure he will make a very good match," replied her niece calmly. – But now I would like to retire to my chambers: this day has been full of events and impressions. I confess I am very tired, and long for rest.

– Of course, my dear. Rest, was her reply.

– Thank you, dear aunt. – Vivian sat down in a deep bow and left the gazebo.

The exciting event was only a week away, but in anticipation of it, Vivian had lost sleep and appetite, and she had a great deal on her mind, the most immediate of which was a complete overhaul of her wardrobe according to the latest London fashions.

Fortunately, Anthony Cranford did not have to drench himself in sweat sitting in his open carriage under the searing summer sun: the sky was suddenly covered with heavy grey clouds, and the streets of London were filled with the stuffiness that usually sets in before a storm. There was no doubt: it was going to rain soon, and the young aristocrat thought wistfully that he had done wrong in choosing this particular Cranford carriage, bought only five days ago.