The image of the red-haired cousin refused to leave Anthony's mind and, what was worse, his imagination painted him pictures full of the voluptuous intimacy that had tormented him without sleep every night since the modest Miss Cowell had appeared at Greenhall. He had thought that after he had called his cousin a "wingless bird," and that she had evidently borne a grudge against him (for she had avoided him and would not talk to him), he would feel better and be relieved of the obsession, but alas! Vivian's coldness only made him more passionate, and young Cranford was horrified to realise that his cousin had not only deprived him of peace and sleep, but had stolen his heart. And this he did not need, so unfortunate, for he was soon to be married to another rich girl. Anthony sincerely hoped that Vivian would marry as soon as possible, preferably right after her debut, which might cool his passion for her, because another man's wife is just a house cat, and he liked wild and free.

The young aristocrat had left his bed in the morning, but, dressed in a cosy dressing-gown, spent his time in the quiet of his richly furnished chambers: Lady Cranford had given him permission to furnish them to his own taste, and, owing to this circumstance, Anthony was surrounded by rather bright but elegant furniture.

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.