Jeremy had brought Vivian both money and status, but had taken Life itself from her. But that was her secret, which she guarded like a bird protects its nest.
– I thought I could change him, but I was wrong," Vivian said to her cousin, wrapping a soft silk scarf around her neck. – That's all. I'm sorry you saw me like this.
– What is he doing to you? – Anthony asked in a fierce tone, rage boiling up in his soul. – Does he beat you?
– Beats me? God forbid, Anthony, what do you take me for? Would I let him hit me? – Vivian rolled her eyes playfully. She picked up a woollen shawl from the bed and wrapped herself in it: her wrists were now safely hidden from view.
Vivian played the part of an indifferent stone. She was not, alas, a rock, but a beautiful rose in a greenhouse that was too hot for her. And though this rose had thorns, the owner of the greenhouse had managed to blunt them and scorch the bright delicate petals of his precious flower. But Vivian was too proud to complain about the mental and physical suffering, and to question her own choices.
"I will open his eyes to the fact that his love brings me only suffering," thought the girl every time, when, having quenched his passion, Jeremy turned away from her and fell asleep, and she lay on her back and cried silently. – Perhaps he doesn't realise that there is nothing in common between me and the whores he partied with before we were married. Tomorrow, when he wakes up, I'll tell him that. I'll be sure to tell him that."
The days flew by, and Vivian never found the strength to carry out her plan, but instead kept getting up early in the morning to close herself in the library and go into deep, unfulfilling thoughts.
Fortunately, since the unfortunate hunt on which Jeremy had ordered his wife to bring him a dead fox, he no longer insisted that Vivian accompany him when he wished to spend the day hunting. And these hours were manna from heaven to the girl, which, alas, passed and plunged her again into the horror of the marital bed and the strong, painful fingers clutching her neck and wrists and the demanding hard lips.
– Not beatings, but bruises on your body, my dear cousin," Anthony said coldly. His good humour was gone.
– Come on," Vivian said. – He's just a naughty boy who sometimes plays too much with his favourite toy.