– 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.
– We have been sent invitations again. Three to be exact," said the landlord. – But I have no desire to attend another ball. I'm tired of them.
– Very well, my dear. Let's stay at home and make the most of our time," said his wife, who had also had enough of balls and soirees.
– What post have you received, my love? – Jeremy asked, kissing his wife's white, graceful neck with a possessive look.
– A letter from Anthony. He congratulated us on our marriage and wished us well," Vivian replied briefly, carefully spreading a tiny amount of butter on half a small bun.
– Did he write when he would return to London?
– 'I can't remember, my dear. His niece is still bedridden.
– And the second letter?
"Is he checking my post?" – Vivian was unpleasantly surprised, but dared not say it aloud.
– It's from Casterbridge," she answered in an even tone. – But I haven't opened it yet.
– I want to read it," Jeremy said with a smile.
– I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm not going to let you read my private correspondence," Mrs. Wington said calmly.
– What are you afraid of? – Jeremy narrowed his eyes.
– 'I'm not afraid of anything, my dear. It's just a letter from my father. I think he's asking you for money again.