Wingless Bird

– Hurry, Jane! She's here! – Emily called out, and a moment later the girl herself appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her pretty thin face was radiant, and in her grey eyes sparkled the anticipation of merriment.

– How? Already? But the room isn't ready! The carpet's not cleaned! There are no flowers in the vase! – Jane exclaimed: it was to her that Lady Cranford, the mistress of the house, had entrusted the task of preparing the room for the arrival of an unexpected but extremely curious personage.

"Jane," said Lady Cranford at breakfast, "prepare the guest quarters in the North Wing. The first room on the right down the corridor. My niece is arriving today, and everything must be in perfect order. Change the sheets to silk and pick a pretty bouquet in the garden, but don't touch my gladioli." Will she be staying long, ma'am? Should I clean the carpet?" – Jane asked timidly, eager to learn as much as she could about her guest and to spread this surprise to the entire household. After all, no one in the house had even suspected that the lady had a niece! The lady had never mentioned her! "Yes, the carpet should have been beaten out and cleaned," Lady Cranford replied in an indifferent tone. – She will come this afternoon."

"And the room to be cleaned, and the carpet to be knocked out and cleaned! And all as soon as possible!" – ran through poor Jane's mind. But she only curtsied and said: "As you command, ma'am."

And lo and behold, the person who had made Jane so nervous was here! In Greenhall! And the carpet had not been cleaned! The beautiful silver vase is empty! What on earth possessed her to ask about the carpet? Oh, what would Lady Cranford say to that?

"But the guest was not due until the evening! It's not my fault she turned up after lunch!" – poor Jane soothed herself, and, tucking the dishevelled black strands of her hair back under her white working bonnet, she hurriedly left her plate of hot soup and almost ran from the kitchen, which was in the far wing of the house, into the huge entrance hall, sacrificing her lunch. What to say! Sometimes curiosity drowns out the songs of a hungry belly!

The girl joined her friends gathered at one of the far windows, and stretching her neck, cast a glance at the wide stone courtyard, through which a rather old black carriage, drawn by a pair of tired grey horses, was rolling gently along.

– A lady's niece, and she came on such a wreck! – Emily hummed quietly to herself.

– And the horses look so old! – giggled one of the kitchen staff.

– Do you think it's pretty? – Jane asked.

– Who knows! We'll see! – Emily answered her cheerfully, and the friends whispered loudly, practising their witticisms.

– What is this gathering? – Mr. . Brown, the butler, was suddenly shouted at, as he had no patience for gossip, and held the servants in fear by the mere sight of his tall, thin, grey-haired person.

The maids immediately left their places at the window and hurried into the kitchen, not wishing to displease either Mr. Brown or Lady Cranford.

– Wait a minute, Jane! – A commanding female voice made the unhappy girl flinch.

Jane obediently stopped, turned round, and sat down in a kneeling posture: none other than the lady of the house was coming down the beautiful broad staircase.

She was an old but still beautiful woman of fifty-two, dressed in a severe black silk dress (she was still in mourning for her husband, who had passed away ten years before). Her beautiful dark hair, touched with grey, was styled in the high style she usually wore on weekdays. Her still slender figure was that of a lady, a member of one of the most noble families in England. Lady Cranford's cold blue eyes always made Jane and all the servants of the estate shiver with fear, and in her calm, emotionless face it was impossible to read what was on her mind: was she angry? Was she displeased about something? Was she about to reprimand or just give orders on this or that?

– Are the bedchambers ready? – Lady Cranford addressed Jane again.

– Alas, ma'am, my guest appeared so suddenly, and I had no time to-" she began to make a timid excuse.

The hostess stopped her with an impatient wave of her white hand and said:

– Well, then, just change the bedclothes and bring the flowers. The carpet will wait for another day. And now come with me: I will introduce you to my niece. I understand you're the same age. You will be her servant.

"So this guest is nineteen, like me!" – thought Jane: she was more than pleased that her hostess had relieved her of the duty of cleaning the heavy thick carpet of the guest-room. Serving the young miss? Well, it's not as tedious as scrubbing the floors and dusting every thing in a huge three-storey mansion every day!

– I've already made new bedding, ma'am. The flowers will be in the vase in a minute, if you will allow me to go into the garden," said the maid, not daring to look her mistress in the face.

– Later. That'll hold. Follow me. – Lady Cranford passed Jane indifferently, and she hurried after her into the courtyard.

The carriage pulled slowly up to the front door.

– I didn't know we were expecting guests. – The phrase belonged to Mr. Anthony Cranford, Lady Cranford's youngest son. This handsome, stately man of twenty-five was admired by all the young maids, including Jane, so when she saw him dressed in an expensive hunting suit, with a gun on his shoulder, she blushed and hurriedly turned her gaze to the carriage.

But Anthony Cranford did not notice Jane's maid, even though she was pretty. The only Greenhall girl who attracted his attention was Emily, and she, beautiful and sharp-tongued, wasted no opportunity to flirt with the master's son, naturally avoiding his mother's inquisitive gaze.

– Yes, we expect so," Lady Cranford answered her son in an indifferent tone. – 'This is my foolish sister's daughter.

– The one your father disinherited? – Mr. Cranford said, approaching his mother in an airy manner.

– Yes, Catherine's daughter," his mother confirmed. – My younger sister married against our father's wishes to a penniless petty nobleman and broke our mother's heart. Fool!

– And what of her daughter?

– She will live with us. Catherine died many years ago, and before she died, she wrote to me begging me to help her daughter, Vivian.

– That's a pretty name," Anthony grinned at that. – So your penniless relative will live under your roof? Even after what her mother has done?