Wingless Bird - стр. 16
– 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.
"I wish I could make it to the Lair without getting wet. Lovely weather, I'll say!" – he thought with a chuckle as he looked up at the cloudy sky.
As if to mock the young man's hope, a loud clap of thunder suddenly pierced the air.
– Thomas, speed it up! – Anthony said to his coachman with a light laugh.
– Yes, sir! – The coachman replied, and, with a little shriek of his whip, spurred the white horses.
The carriage rolled swiftly down the stone-paved streets, nearly knocking down the common people crossing the road. But soon Anthony's luck changed, and his carriage got stuck in a traffic jam. It was as if God had decided to mock the people of London: in an instant it rained so hard that it was difficult to see anything at arm's length.
"Devil! That suit was delivered only yesterday! What bad luck!" – He was soaked to the skin, as were all the others who were in the open streets and squares at this time. It was the elegant dark blue suit he had wished to show off to his friends. Alas! The suit and hat were irretrievably ruined. Only the black leather shoes were intact.
Young Cranford's mood had waned, but the downpour had distracted him from the strange and unnecessary thoughts that had been troubling him all the way: thoughts of how lovely his young cousin Vivian was. He saw before him her embarrassed smile and big green eyes like emeralds. And she was so touchingly defenceless, this girl....
– Here we are, sir! – suddenly he heard the loud bass of his coachman.
"I must have forgotten myself again. Only to fall in love with a penniless cousin, however beautiful she may be!" – Anthony thought to himself with mockery.
– Go home and pick me up at six o'clock tomorrow," he commanded the coachman: the young hustler did not wish to be late for breakfast at Greenhall, knowing how his absence from the table would upset his mother. The young man loved and respected his mother very much, even though she disapproved of his late-night revels with his friends at the Den.