The horse, on seeing his master, greeted him with a merry neigh.

– Shall I expect you for dinner, Mr. Cranford? – Mr. Brown, the butler, asked courteously as he saw Anthony off.

– I don't think so," said the young man, and, despite his warm, long cloak, designed for the cold, windy November weather, he climbed nimbly onto the shiny back of his horse. – But I need your help, Mr. Brown. Is there no one in your circle who can help me find a cosy, spacious apartment?

– My brother William can help you with that, sir," replied Mr. Brown, without a trace of surprise on his face. He knew it was not in his nature to wonder about the affairs of gentlemen.

– Very well! Tell him I expect him at Greenhall this evening after nine o'clock. Good day, Mr. Brown! – said Anthony and let the horse gallop off at a light trot.

"It's so nice to be back in this city! I never thought I'd miss London so much!" – thought Anthony, enjoying the carriage-laden streets and the pedestrians who were always going about their business.

Young Cranford felt at home in his brother's large, free and lush estate, but it was only when he was back in his hometown, where he had been born and lived all his life, that Anthony could be happy. Happy indeed, for it was here that the beautiful sweet-voiced Miss Salton, to whom he was now on his way, dwelt.

But on the way, deciding that it would be rude of him to turn up at Charlotte's house so suddenly, unannounced, Anthony steered his horse towards Wington Hall to see his cousin and best friend and to congratulate them again, in person, on their marriage.

When he reached the Wingtons' mansion, Anthony dismounted, handed the horse to the stable boy, rode up the tall stone staircase, and knocked firmly on the ornate door. Not a minute later the door was opened, and on entering the house Anthony met the butler in the hall.

– Good afternoon, Mr. Cranford," the butler greeted the guest politely.

– 'Good afternoon. Is Mr. Wington at home? – Anthony enquired. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a maid appeared beside him and carefully took away his hat and cloak.

– Mr. Wington's out hunting, sir," the butler informed him dutifully.

– Well, I'm not surprised. But what about Mrs. Wington?

– She's in her chambers, sir.

– Very well. Show me to her," Anthony ordered. – I'm her cousin, so she needs no introductions or cards from me.

– If you say so, sir. Please follow me. – The butler walked slowly towards the staircase leading to the first floor.

Anthony, terribly intrigued and expecting to surprise his cousin by his unexpected appearance, followed him.

When the men reached the door of Mrs. Wington's chamber, the butler was about to knock and ask her if she wished to see the guest, but Anthony beat him to it, and, without knocking, opened the door and entered the room.

– Here is our young beauty, Mrs. Wington! – he said cheerfully, appearing in the reflection of the mirror of the dressing-table at which Vivian was sitting.

– Anthony? – Vivian whispered incredulously and turned round to her guest. – Anthony! You're here! My God, I'm so glad to see you! – She shrieked, and rising from the pouffe, threw herself into her cousin's arms. – You may be free! – she hurriedly threw to the butler, who immediately closed the doors.

– You are back! But how is little Kitty? She is better, I hope? – she asked anxiously, pulling away from Anthony.

– Oh, she's getting stronger every day," smiled Anthony. – And you are still just as beautiful… – Suddenly his warm, full of happiness look was replaced by incomprehension, and between his eyebrows there was a deep wrinkle. He grabbed his cousin's naked wrists, where small marks were clearly blue, and then looked closely at the same marks on her white neck.

– What's that? – Anthony asked. Though he spoke softly, the tone of his voice was insistent.

Vivian chuckled bitterly, pulled herself free from her cousin's grasp, and hastened to cover her neck with the palm of her hand, but it did little good.

– It is my payment for my wealth," she said in a perfectly calm tone, but she was anxious to hide the bruises under the light scarf which she now wore every day and only took off when she was in her chambers.

Her cousin's sudden visit had taken her by surprise, and she was terribly sorry that he had seen the marks of her humiliation left on her soft skin by Jeremy. She wasn't looking for self-pity, nor did she want to justify herself to Anthony. Accepting Jeremy Wington's proposal had been her conscious choice, even though she'd heard what gossip there was about him in society. Knew and became his wife. Voluntarily. For money and status.

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.

– Does he think you're his toy? Or is it you who assures yourself of that? – Anthony smiled wryly.

– Please, don't start a scandal. I just expressed myself wrongly," the girl replied in a bored tone. She came up to her cousin and, taking him under her elbow, looked into his eyes and smiled softly: "But let's go for a walk in the garden. I'm sure you have many interesting questions for me, don't you?

– Exactly. And one of them is: "Why are your arms and neck full of bruises? Is Jeremy hurting you? Let me talk to him man to man," Anthony said in a softer tone.

My dear brave knight, I assure you that those unpleasant-looking blue marks on my skin are the marks of marital passion," Vivian whispered in her cousin's ear, and laughed when she saw how crimson his face had become.