– Miss Salton! There's a letter for you! – Sarah the maid entered the room. – The Wingtons' messenger has just brought it! He's waiting for an answer,' she added, walking up to the mistress's daughter and holding out an envelope to her.
– Thank you, Sarah. Did he send anything else? – Charlotte asked hopefully, quickly unfolding the soft white paper.
– 'Nothing, Miss… Just this,' Sarah replied. – Can I go now, or what else do you want me to do?
– No, you're free," Charlotte muttered, thoughtfully reading what her best friend had written to her, who, however, had not been to her house for two months.
The two girls kept up an active correspondence, receiving and sending each other letters and notes several times a day, but it was not enough for Charlotte: she missed the few days when Vivian lived in Lillehus. In those days the two friends had been thick as thieves: the one who got up early woke the other, and they had spent the whole day together, from morning till evening, and had only parted when it was time to go to bed. But since Vivian had become a married woman, things had changed drastically. So drastically that Charlotte was desperate to see her and willing to visit her every day, but to every, "Can I come and see you, my dear? It's been so long since we've seen each other!", the girl would get from Vivian, "Alas! We are terribly busy this week," or "I am not feeling well. I hope to see you soon, my dear friend!".
Vivian's letters were sincere and full of warmth and friendship, but the bitterness did not leave Charlotte's soul. The bitterness of separation and feeling as if there was now a thin but strong wall between her and her friend.
"Perhaps it is my fault! I shouldn't have told her about the rumours about her husband! I should have kept quiet instead of hurting her delicate soul. Jeremy was like that before he married her. Marriage has changed him for the better, I hope. The way his eyes light up when he looks at Vivian. That's true love! I think I've hurt her by spreading these dirty rumours… Well, I can only reap the consequences of my own stupidity!" – "Alas, I seem to have caught a cold and won't leave my bedroom," Charlotte thought in despair.
Carefully folding the note, the girl went up to her bedroom and put it in the drawer of her desk, where she kept all correspondence from her friend.
"But I must answer her… I don't know what I can write if, ever since she left the new Mrs. Wington's church, my life has been a bore… And I thought I was going to spend all my days at their house from now on! And my parents still haven't come back… I'm all alone in this big, unfriendly town!" – Charlotte sat down at the table, put a blank sheet of paper in front of her, dipped her quill in the inkwell and wrote: "I hope you feel better soon. I confess I am coughing a little myself, but Sarah is preparing for me my favourite hot tea with lemon and sugar. 'My dear, I miss you. I pray to God to give us a chance to see each other. I have said it many times before, but I will say it again now: if you have something to share with me, please share it with me, because I suddenly feel like you are drifting away from me. With every letter you write, with every note you write. Please tell me I'm wrong. Yours Charlotte."
The girl folded the sheet of paper beautifully into a small note, sealed it with the seal of the Saltones' coat of arms, and, clicking Sarah, told her to give the note to the Wingtons' messenger. Then, rummaging through the drawers of her desk, Charlotte found the brief note which Anthony Cranford had left her when he left, and, resolutely taking a blank sheet of paper, she began to write him a letter, hoping to find from him answers to her questions about Vivian's present situation and her health. Her friend had been ill too often, and this was worrying Charlotte.
After writing two sheets of paper without even rereading it, she put the paper in an envelope, wrote the address of Devry Manor, where Anthony had gone, and, finding Mrs. Anderson, the housekeeper, gave her the letter to send. It was only when Mrs. Anderson took the letter and was out of her sight that the girl felt some mental relief.
"Anthony knows what is going on with Vivian. I'm sure of it,' thought Charlotte as she slowly climbed the stairs to her chambers. Her recently sunny mood had been replaced by gloomy grey clouds, and her desire for a walk in the garden was gone in an instant.
***
– Jeremy, my love. I beg… I beg you: let me go to Charlotte tonight. I miss her so much. If you like, we can go together and have tea with her and then go to the park," Mrs. Wington asked her husband with a shy smile, still holding her friend's note of despair and resentment.
Vivian wished she could run out of the house, stop the cab and go to Charlotte's. Or even just walk, even though it was at least half an hour's walk to her house in the bright sunshine of this year's hot October. She felt guilty for making her poor friend suffer, for she knew how attached Charlotte was to her. But Vivian deliberately invented reasons why she could not visit her, because she did not want her to see her as the pale, frightened woman into whom she had changed from a blooming and confident girl.
Every day spent at Wington Hall, and every night spent with her husband, brought her closer to the end of her life – that was what the girl thought, falling asleep in silent sobs and praying that she would have time to fulfil what she had sacrificed herself to Jeremy's fierce passion.
– 'No, my dear. You're sick. Look at yourself in the mirror, you look like a ghost. You need to lie down," Jeremy said with concern in his voice as he glanced down at her neck, which was wrapped in a light green silk shawl. – Perhaps your pallor and fatigue are signs that you are carrying my heir? – he added with a smile.
– No, my love, it can't be: it's only a fortnight since I bled," Viviane replied quietly, and put her palm to her forehead: "It's so hot! I'm sick of this heat!
– We got married three months ago, and you're still not pregnant. – Jeremy got up from his desk and approached his wife, who immediately tensed at his proximity. – I want you to have my baby, Vivian. – He lifted the girl's chin with his fingers and looked into her emerald tired eyes. – I want you to bear me at least three children.
– Three, dear? – She was surprised. – One would be enough for me.
– No. We'll have lots of children. I'll be a good father. I'll spend a lot of time with them, teach them riding, fencing and hunting," Jeremy smiled and kissed Vivian's pale lips. – And they won't have a governess. You will look after them yourself. They'll need a mother, not an outsider.
– But, darling, when I carry our baby-" "You must stop doing what you're doing to me!" wanted to say Vivian, but stopped herself in time, and instead said in a serious tone: – 'You'll have to move to another bedroom, because what we do at night could hurt our future little one, or I could even lose him. May we have many children. Or as many as God gives us," she smiled, thinking to herself that she wasn't going to give him more than two children.
– Of course you will. I'm ready to wait, my love. – Jeremy kissed his wife again, and then, pulling back the silk scarf around her neck slightly, he grinned crookedly. – When you get pregnant, I'll be dusting you off and satisfying my carnal desires with another woman. And you won't be able to object to that.
– Oh, my dear, I won't object to it, for it will be better for the baby," Vivian replied calmly. – Let us pray God to give us a child as soon as possible. But now I will take your advice and lie down. – She patted her husband on the cheek and, not hiding a broad smile of joy, went out into the corridor.
When she entered the bedroom, Vivian angrily ripped the cursed scarf from her neck and threw it on the bed. It was the third day she'd worn it, and in this heat it was torture. But the girl couldn't walk around with her neck exposed, as no one was allowed to see what Jeremy's passion and secret dark desires sometimes drove him to.
"Miss Vivian… how sorry I am for you! Oh, if only I could do something for you! – Jane thought whenever she saw Vivian's eyes red with tears. – But she dared not say it aloud, and only watched in silence the frightened ghost into which her dear friend was turning.
***
– Come, Albert, hold the gun as I have just shown you," said Anthony patiently, lifting his nephew's elbow, who was aiming with delight at the straw scarecrow, on whose head his father's old tall hat was worn.
– 'Uncle, do you think Kitty will now lie in bed all her life? – Suddenly, still taking aim, the boy asked.
The question took Anthony by surprise and even caused him heartache. But he shrugged his shoulders, smiled and answered in a determined tone:
– Your sister is recovering quickly. The injury she suffered is, of course, serious and painful, but it is, nevertheless, treatable. The corset she is wearing is helping her spine to fuse, and Dr Norton is confident that in a few months Kitty will be walking again. However, she will have to wear the corset for another two or three years.
– I feel sorry for her. She's so young and she's already hurt so badly," Albert said sadly. – And Mum cries all the time. And Victoria with her. I wish I could run away from this house!
– You don't have to run away, my boy: your family needs you. You and your father are men, which means you're supposed to be less sensitive, but it also gives you more responsibility. You're supposed to support your ladies and wipe their tears: that's our male responsibility," Anthony chuckled good-naturedly. – But now try to knock your hat off. Go on, Albert, you can do it.
With a satisfied chuckle, the boy pulled the trigger, but the hat remained adorning the ugly head of the scarecrow.
– Eh! But I was almost there! The scarecrow now has a left eye! – proud of his skill, the boy laughed merrily. – Can I shoot again? One more time!
Anthony and Albert were quite close to the castle, so the thunder of the shot could be heard even if they were in its rooms.
– I think you've had enough shooting for today, – Anthony upset his nephew. – Tomorrow we will repeat our lesson, but the scarecrow will have to be dragged to the lake, away from the house.
– All right, Uncle, as you say," Albert sighed doomedly and handed the gun to Anthony, then smiled broadly and shrieked: – Bubbet! Bubbet is coming! Did you see me shooting? Did you? – He ran towards his elderly French governess, who immediately grabbed him in her arms and praised him for his accurate shooting.
– Come along, my young gentleman. It's time to practise your French! – said the governess affectionately, in French, taking the boy's palm in her own. Then she smiled at Anthony and handed him a sealed letter. – There is a fresh post for you, Mr. Cranford.
– Thank you," he said, and took the letter.
After waiting patiently for Babbett and Albert to get a decent distance from him, Anthony looked at the sender's address and smiled: it was from Charlotte Salton. Unbelieving his happiness, he put the paper to his lips and then inhaled the delicate, barely audible scent of roses. Impatient to know what his beloved had written to him, Anthony opened the letter, and, walking slowly towards the house, began to read it. Not even the cold, rather strong wind blowing on this grey mid-October day deterred him.
One side of the first sheet Charlotte scribbled that her parents were still in Denmark and when they would return was unknown. She also briefly relayed the new gossip floating around among the London nobility, and that was the end of the news from the capital: the remaining pages of the letter were filled with the girl's concern for Vivian, whom she said she hadn't seen for a long time, and who was constantly finding excuses not to see her.
"How strange… after all, Vivian and Charlotte were so friendly! Is my cousin so busy that she can't even find a spare hour to visit her lonely friend? And Charlotte is looking to me for answers about Vivian's strange behaviour! It's all very suspicious," the young Cranford frowned.
"You must also be aware of the rumours going around town about her husband. They say that before he married Vivian, he led a very, very dissolute life … I dread to even think of it, but I suppose that perhaps my dear friend's perpetual busyness is due to his behaviour?" – Miss Salton wrote.
"No, here you are mistaken, my dear Charlotte. I am sure: Vivian is still reeling from the conclusion of a marriage so fortunate for her. Or perhaps she is simply expecting a child? – Anthony smiled, confident in his best friend's integrity. – Yes, Jeremy likes to have fun, but even when he's drunk to death, he wouldn't hurt a mouse… But I think it's time for me to go back to London: Kitty's on the mend, and my love for Charlotte is growing daily, and I won't be at peace until she's my lawful wife.
Having made up his mind to return to London, Anthony cautiously announced his intention to his sick niece. To this Kitty only smiled and said that her sister Victoria had shared with her his secret about Miss Salton. But Anthony took no offence at Victoria: in spite of her seriousness, she was a child. And what was he to be ashamed of?
The only person who was strongly against his departure was Lady Cranford: while Richard and Agnes accepted it calmly and understandingly, his mother reproached him with selfishness all evening and repeated again and again that Alexandra, Agnes's younger sister, was to come to Devry the other day.
– That girl is only coming to meet you! – exclaimed Lady Cranford, walking round her son's chamber, where two maids were packing his things for the journey.
– 'I did not invite her, mother. You did, and here you are making excuses for my absence," said Anthony indifferently. – I am leaving tomorrow morning and taking one of our carriages.
– My carriages, my dear," said the Countess, with an emphasis on the first word, and the phrase made the young man smile disappointedly.
– Your carriages, ma'am," he repeated coldly. – Don't worry, I will ask Richard to give me one of his carriages at once, and both of yours will stay with you.
– Well, why do you punish me so? "Ma'am"! Not Mother! Anthony, you're breaking my heart! – Lady Cranford raised her hands theatrically to heaven and shook her head. – 'And what are you going to do in London?
– To live my life and my home," her son replied. – Now, I must ask you to leave my room.
– I will not leave this place until you tell me that you will give up this ridiculous idea of going back to London! – Lady Cranford said firmly, and crossed her arms over her breast.
– As you wish, ma'am," Anthony grinned mockingly, and left his chambers to find his brother and ask for a carriage, horses, and coachman to take him to the capital.
– Well, all right! Take my carriage! But stop calling me "ma'am"! – he immediately heard his mother's voice behind him.
– Thank you, ma'am. I'll be fine," Anthony said shortly, and paid no attention to the moaning and complaints thrown back at him.
Fortunately, Richard did not persist and gave his brother what he asked without question or condition.
The next morning, after a fervent farewell to his nephews, his brother and his wife, Anthony left for London.
Lady Cranford did not come out to say good-bye to her son, but watched with eyes wet with tears of disappointment as the carriage carried him away from the estate.
"Ungrateful! How much suffering I have endured, and all for you, my dear boys! I have had to correct your mistake, but of course you don't know it, my Anthony. And you never will! Do you think I'm a bad mother? Well, that's your right, but that won't make me not worry about you!" – she thought bitterly.
This time the journey took Anthony only a fortnight, for the young, sharp horses lent by Richard easily carried the rather light, latest model carriage with thin wheels. He reached Greenhall late at night, and had to wait about a quarter of an hour for one of the servants to open the front doors for him. Ordered not to unload his suitcases, as Anthony was going to finally find an apartment and leave his father's house the next day, the young man went up to his chambers, threw off his travelling suit, and gladly climbed into his own bed, under his own warm blanket. Having slept fitfully until noon the next day, Anthony summoned his valet, who helped him to dress in an elegant travelling suit, then took a quick lunch, and, full of impatience and delight at seeing Charlotte, ordered his horse to be brought to him.
The horse, on seeing his master, greeted him with a merry neigh.
– Shall I expect you for dinner, Mr. Cranford? – Mr. Brown, the butler, asked courteously as he saw Anthony off.
– I don't think so," said the young man, and, despite his warm, long cloak, designed for the cold, windy November weather, he climbed nimbly onto the shiny back of his horse. – But I need your help, Mr. Brown. Is there no one in your circle who can help me find a cosy, spacious apartment?
– My brother William can help you with that, sir," replied Mr. Brown, without a trace of surprise on his face. He knew it was not in his nature to wonder about the affairs of gentlemen.
– Very well! Tell him I expect him at Greenhall this evening after nine o'clock. Good day, Mr. Brown! – said Anthony and let the horse gallop off at a light trot.
"It's so nice to be back in this city! I never thought I'd miss London so much!" – thought Anthony, enjoying the carriage-laden streets and the pedestrians who were always going about their business.
Young Cranford felt at home in his brother's large, free and lush estate, but it was only when he was back in his hometown, where he had been born and lived all his life, that Anthony could be happy. Happy indeed, for it was here that the beautiful sweet-voiced Miss Salton, to whom he was now on his way, dwelt.
But on the way, deciding that it would be rude of him to turn up at Charlotte's house so suddenly, unannounced, Anthony steered his horse towards Wington Hall to see his cousin and best friend and to congratulate them again, in person, on their marriage.
When he reached the Wingtons' mansion, Anthony dismounted, handed the horse to the stable boy, rode up the tall stone staircase, and knocked firmly on the ornate door. Not a minute later the door was opened, and on entering the house Anthony met the butler in the hall.
– Good afternoon, Mr. Cranford," the butler greeted the guest politely.
– 'Good afternoon. Is Mr. Wington at home? – Anthony enquired. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a maid appeared beside him and carefully took away his hat and cloak.
– Mr. Wington's out hunting, sir," the butler informed him dutifully.
– Well, I'm not surprised. But what about Mrs. Wington?
– She's in her chambers, sir.
– Very well. Show me to her," Anthony ordered. – I'm her cousin, so she needs no introductions or cards from me.
– If you say so, sir. Please follow me. – The butler walked slowly towards the staircase leading to the first floor.
Anthony, terribly intrigued and expecting to surprise his cousin by his unexpected appearance, followed him.
When the men reached the door of Mrs. Wington's chamber, the butler was about to knock and ask her if she wished to see the guest, but Anthony beat him to it, and, without knocking, opened the door and entered the room.
– Here is our young beauty, Mrs. Wington! – he said cheerfully, appearing in the reflection of the mirror of the dressing-table at which Vivian was sitting.
– Anthony? – Vivian whispered incredulously and turned round to her guest. – Anthony! You're here! My God, I'm so glad to see you! – She shrieked, and rising from the pouffe, threw herself into her cousin's arms. – You may be free! – she hurriedly threw to the butler, who immediately closed the doors.
– You are back! But how is little Kitty? She is better, I hope? – she asked anxiously, pulling away from Anthony.
– Oh, she's getting stronger every day," smiled Anthony. – And you are still just as beautiful… – Suddenly his warm, full of happiness look was replaced by incomprehension, and between his eyebrows there was a deep wrinkle. He grabbed his cousin's naked wrists, where small marks were clearly blue, and then looked closely at the same marks on her white neck.