Wingless Bird - стр. 33

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 unnecessary feelings? And not a soul must know of his secret, his downfall! And certainly not his mother.

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 penniless cousin against his better judgement. Emily left her lover's chambers and went to iron her mistress's dresses. The maid smiled: she was young, beautiful, cunning, and the mistress of a real aristocrat who was good in bed and gave her expensive trinkets (which Emily carefully hid in her mattress. What more could a simple maid want? Trying not to be seen by anyone, the girl came to her lover's house at midnight and left at three in the morning, because at four she had to prepare for Lady Cranford's awakening. Emily had almost no time to moan, but was content with her lot, and, not being distinguished by modesty, wished to spend her time in bed with the young and handsome Mr. . Cranford. But this secret liaison was not known to anyone: the lovers jealously kept their secret.

"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 cunning girl, walking on the marble floor almost noiselessly.

– 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.