– Don't forget your hat, my dear cousin. In this heat, in the sun, without a hat, you may get sick. – Suddenly she heard the voice of her cousin Mr. Cranford behind her.

– Alas, my favourite hat is gone: it was blown away by the wind while I was admiring the sea," she replied, with a slight annoyance at her embarrassment. She did not turn round to Anthony: he was of little interest to her, both as a man and as a prospective bridegroom. There was no need for her to put her charms to work.

– It must be a great loss. You girls always take the loss of even easily replaceable things to heart," Anthony smiled. He had come up to his cousin and could now admire the profile of her face.

– You are right, dear cousin: we girls are so frivolous," said Vivian out of politeness, but not out of any desire to keep the conversation going, still without dignifying her cousin with a glance.

– What a beautiful bouquet. Did you make it? – Anthony asked: he was too shrewd not to notice his cousin's indifference to him. But he mistook it for fatigue: the beautiful guest had spent many hours in the carriage, and naturally it had taken its toll on her health.

– That's right, dear cousin, I'll do it myself," Vivian answered him, as she bent to pick a large red rosebud, but pricked her finger on the sharp thorns and gave an involuntary shriek.

– Allow me. – Anthony carefully plucked the bud she had chosen and held it out to her cousin. She accepted it readily.

Their fingers touched, and Vivian, without knowing why, blushed.

"How sweet and modest she is," went through Anthony's mind.

– Thank you, Mr. Cranford," Vivian said quietly, and added a rose to her bouquet.

– I don't think I would be wrong in assuming that you like flowers," her cousin suddenly smiled broadly.

"So what of it?" – the girl thought unhappily, but said aloud: – How can one not love flowers? Is there anyone who is completely indifferent to these beautiful creatures?

– Alas, such people do exist. But, as you have seen, Greenhall is not indifferent to flowers. My mother planned the garden herself, and every flower grows exactly where she told it to.

– Your mother has excellent taste.

– You are like a flower yourself, my dear cousin. A bright, flaming flower," Anthony said earnestly, and was pleased to see his cousin's neck and face glow again.

Vivian could not find words: this handsome young man was so gallant! He must be extremely romantic, and London beauties simply fall at his feet.

– My dear cousin, your words are so sweet. But, please, beware of saying them in front of your mother: she may misinterpret them," said the girl, gravely: "I would not have my aunt think that she, Vivian, wished to take possession of her son's heart and soul!

– There is not a drop of romance in my mother's heart," Anthony reassured her with irony in his voice. – And, please, call me Anthony. After all, we are rather close relatives.

– Whatever you say, Anthony. – Vivian's face lit up with a broad, sincere smile: it turned out that her cousin was not so bad! Perhaps they could be friends?

– But now go inside: you've had enough time in the sun and you need to rest. Besides, lunch is coming up. Let me show you out. – Anthony gave her his elbow in a gallant manner.

– You're right: this heat is tiring me. – Vivian put her beautiful white palm on her cousin's shoulder, and the young people walked slowly, chatting animatedly, into the saving shade of Greenhall.

As soon as they entered the hall, they met the lady of the house herself: she had already changed into a new, but once again strict black dress, and was on her way to the kitchen to give orders in person, not through the housekeeper, to buy for tomorrow morning's tea-party chocolates of a new brand, which had appeared in the shops only yesterday. Lady Cranford did not eat chocolate and avoided sweets, wishing to keep her figure slim, but Anthony enjoyed two or three every day.

But her cheekbones sharpened as her gaze fell on Vivian walking with her son, and when she saw her niece's colourful bouquet, she addressed her in an icy, bone-chilling tone:

– 'I see you have put together a marvellous bouquet, Vivian. Especially beautiful are these pink gladioli, which I forbid even my favourite grandchildren to touch.

Aunt Beatrice looked like a formidable ice statue, and the look in her blue eyes burned her niece with coldness. The girl frantically clutched her bouquet and, lowering her gaze to the flowers, realised with horror what she had done: she had plucked her aunt's gladioluses. And not even one, but (what horror!) as many as three.

"But how could I have known they were forbidden? No one had said a word about it! Not even Anthony! And he saw my bouquet and those unfortunate gladioli! Oh, my God, why should I be punished like this? She was so angry about some flowers! Now she'll hate me!" – Vivian thought with horror.

Panic seized the girl. Her heart hammered like a bird in a cramped cage.

– Auntie, I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

– My cousin Vivian got those gladioluses from me," Anthony interrupted her firmly: he had noticed the change in the face of his beautiful cousin and had rushed to her aid. How could he not have noticed those flowers? He must have been too fond of that fire-haired girl.

– But, Anthony, you are well aware of how much I treasure my gladioluses. – Lady Cranford's face softened: how could she be angry with her son?

– I know, Mother. But they suited my cousin's bouquet, so I thought you would make an exception this time and let Vivian decorate her chambers with them. Perhaps I was mistaken? In that case, I apologise. – Anthony bowed slightly to his mother.

– No, no, you were a gentleman," his mother retorted. A guilty smile played on her lips, and she hastened to mitigate the damage Vivian had done by her unfriendly, cold tone. – 'I'm sorry, my dear, I was mistaken. These gladioli are like children to me. May they make you happy with their colours.

– Thank you, Auntie, you are so generous. – Vivian sat down in a low kneeling position, not daring to look up at her aunt.

'Anthony lied to her to protect me! How sweet that is! He's a real hero!" – she thought involuntarily, full of gratitude to her cousin.

– 'A trifle, my dear. But the table is already set, and you both need a change of dress. You will see why I am so fond of the Southern Balcony," said Lady Cranford amiably, and, rustling her long silk dress, continued on her way to the kitchen.

As soon as the lady of the house was out of sight, Vivian sighed loudly and looked at Anthony.

– Thank you! You have saved me! – She exclaimed quietly, putting her hand on her breast, her heart still unwilling to slow down.

– Don't mention it," smiled her cousin. – I had forgotten how zealous my mother is about her gladioli. But now go to your chambers: you must freshen up. I'll see you in twenty minutes, at lunch. – He suddenly took the girl's hand in his, touched it with his lips, and then released her and went up the stairs, leaving Vivian, flushed as a poppy, to wonder at his action.

In the meantime Lady Cranford had reached the kitchen and, opening the door, was displeased to find almost all the servants of the house gathered round the table where the servants usually ate.

– What is going on here? – She asked in a calm but imperious tone. – Have you nothing else to do but sit here and gossip?

– I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, and the servants hurried out of the kitchen.

How embarrassing! The landlady was not mistaken: she had caught the servants discussing the new guest!

It was Emily's fault: no, oh no! Mr. Brown had not sent her to find Jane! Emily had decided to find her herself to tell her and others about the new miss, and Jane had been eager to share her impressions and sing Miss Vivian's dithyrambs: she is so beautiful! She is so kind! There is no one in the world better than she!