The Bird has got wings
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Entering the library, which held thousands of books, the head of household of Wington Hall locked the doors securely and lit the fireplace. When the first warm tongues of flame covered the fragrant birch wood, the girl climbed with her feet into one of the large armchairs and sat staring blankly at the bookshelf until a knock at the door and Jane's voice brought her out of her weightless state.
– Miss Vivian! Oh, I mean, Mrs. Wington! – called in a cheerful tone the faithful Jane, who, as before, held the position of personal maid to her now married friend. – 'Your husband has ordered me to call you to breakfast!
"What? Is it breakfast already? But what time is it? – Vivian wondered, and glanced at the large wall clock, which showed eight-thirty-three in the morning. – Time has flown by so fast… But it's a good thing that, unlike my Aunt Beatrice, Jeremy likes to snuggle in bed."
Reluctantly leaving her hiding place, Vivian went to the door and let Jane into the library. She, dressed in her new, freshly pressed uniform, smiled happily and handed Vivian two letters.
– Your mail, Mrs. Wington! – The maid held out the letters to her friend, but when she saw Vivian's tired face and the circles under her eyes, she frowned. – Are you having insomnia again? You look as if you'd been up all night!
'That's precisely what it was, Jane… I don't belong to myself at night… As well as during the day,' Vivian thought, but forced herself to smile softly and reply:
– 'I beg you, in private, call me what you used to call me, Miss Vivian. Yes, insomnia again-I got up incredibly early. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd read a good novel," she lied, taking the letters from Jane, and glancing at the sender's address, grinned ironically. – A letter from Anthony… I wonder how he reacted when he found out I'd married his best friend?
– If he did, Miss Vivian," Jane put in. – He's so far away! Up north!
– Of course he found out, silly! – Vivian laughed softly as she unsealed a letter from her cousin. – All births, deaths and marriages are reported in many newspapers, and the Cranfords always get at least three different fresh papers every morning. I think Anthony has learnt of my wedding late, but, my dear, he, and my dear good Aunt Beatrice, must be extremely glad of the news. Especially my aunt-she has been trying so hard to pass me off as old man Darbinell! I hope she is biting her elbows now, knowing that her poor niece has become the wife of a man much richer than herself. – Grinning to herself, the girl ran her eyes over the lines Anthony had written and smiled broadly: "Well, there! I was right! Listen to what my cousin writes! "My dear Viviane, this news, I confess, has astonished me to the very depths of my soul, but this astonishment was a feeling of pleasure, for now, knowing that you have achieved your purpose, I am calm for you and your Richard…"
– Who is Richard, Miss Vivian? – Jane enquired. She went to the fireplace, took the poker and stirred the still smouldering embers. – Shall I get some more wood?
– Who is Richard? – Vivian repeated thoughtfully, biting her lip as she considered whether to tell Jane about Richard.
– Yes, who is he? – The maid asked again, turning to her friend. She was very curious about this mysterious man.
– I hope I shall soon introduce you to him," said Vivian, instead of answering. – But listen to this: "I know that Jeremy does not and probably never will capture your heart, but I know his soul and I assure you that he will be a good spouse, a reliable man and a good father to your future children…" She hesitated and wrinkled her nose.
"Ah, my naive cousin! I don't think you know the man you call your best friend that well! You are convinced that you know his soul, and that it is beautiful, but how wrong you are! And how wrong I was when I thought I could keep him under my thumb! – ran through the girl's mind, and the desire to read this letter full of joy was gone. – No, no, I can't read it! And Jeremy must not see these lines either! If he found out about Richard that way, he would kill me… kill me with his jealousy."
– Put some wood in the fire, Jane," said Vivian quietly, crumpling up the letter.
– As you say, Miss Vivian," she said, but was surprised at the sudden change in her friend's mood. She did not ask any more questions, but simply lighted the fire in the fireplace.
When the flames were dancing their merry dance again, Vivian went to the fireplace and threw a crumpled ball of paper into its hot heart.
– Miss Vivian? Is something wrong? – A worried Jane asked quietly. – Has your cousin written you something hurtful?
– No, Jane… He's happy for me. But my husband mustn't find out about Richard. He will. Later. Not today. – Vivian sighed heavily and hid her face in her hands. – 'But we must go… Jeremy is expecting me for breakfast… .
– We have to get you cleaned up first! – Jane said firmly. – I promise I'll have you dressed and combed in half an hour. You know I can work miracles, don't you?
– I know, darling, I know. – Vivian took her palms away from her face and looked at her maid friend and smiled broadly.
How good it was to have Jane by her side again! Fortunately, Jeremy had not refused his wife's request to take this girl into the house and even pay her double what Lady Cranford paid her.
– How is your mother? I hope she is better? – Vivian asked as the girls walked slowly down the corridor, now brightly lit by the sunlight.
– Much better! Thank you for that! – Shining like a polished coin, Jane replied. – What about your jewellery? Have you bought them back yet?
– My goodness, Jane, how good of you to remind me of that! I had forgotten all about them! – Vivian exclaimed with the palm pressed to her heart. – I shall go for them today!
Half an hour later, as faithful Jane had promised, Vivian was dressed in one of her beautiful morning dresses, and her hair was arranged in a high style. There was no trace left of the girl who barefooted, with her hair loose, and wearing a dressing-gown over her night-dress, had been hiding from her own husband in the darkness of the library. Mrs. Wington, who had taken her place at the table in the bright, large dining-room, looked like a goddess descending from the heights of Olympus to the world of mortals. And Mr. Wington, her husband, dressed in an elegant morning suit, kept his eyes on her, while she smiled at him and kept up their uncomplicated and intimate conversation in an affectionate tone.