After Jane had changed her into her nightdress and unbraided her high hair, Vivian sent the maid to rest, and sitting down at the dressing-table, began to comb her long fiery hair with a thick brush. Her body and soul were tense, and her mind tried to catch the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom.

And soon she heard them.

– You did not wish to dine with me," was the first thing her husband said as he entered the bedroom and approached her.

– I don't feel well. You were right: it seems that this evil wind has brought me a cold after all," Vivian replied in an even tone.

– That's a pity. But let's continue our conversation, my love," Jeremy said in a quiet, ingratiating tone.

Vivian shifted her gaze from her reflection in the mirror to her husband's. Her emerald eyes opened wide. Her breathing quickened.

Jeremy stood behind her, a few feet away from her, a long, thin whip resting on his open palms.

– Are you going out again? This late? – Praying in her heart that he would answer yes, Vivian asked. She wanted her voice to be calm, but she couldn't contain the fear coursing through her soul.

"Lord, almighty, good, just! Save me from his wrath! He will beat me to death!" – The thought sent icy goosebumps running down the girl's body.

– Oh, is that what you mean? – Jeremy tinkled the whip against his palm as if demonstrating his abilities.

– Why did you bring the whip with you, my love? – Vivian put the brush in the top drawer of the dressing table and wanted to get to her feet, but the stern "Sidi" thrown by her husband made her stay in her seat and continue to stare at Jeremy's reflection in the mirror.

Instead of answering, the young man came close to his spouse, placed the whip on her lap and began to gently stroke her neck with his fingers.

– I'll tell you a funny story," he said quietly after a moment of silence, and Vivian shuddered at the sound of his voice. – When I was ten years old, my father threw a dinner party and invited the few friends he had-" Jeremy grinned. – Three married couples came. Alone, without children. Their children were asleep at home because it was late: my father's whim had set dinner for ten o'clock at night. I, too, was forbidden to leave my room. Strictly forbidden. But I was eager to see the guests, so I quietly crept into the dining room and hid behind a large heavy curtain. But I didn't realise that the curtain didn't hide the toes of my house shoes, and I was soon discovered.

Jeremy stopped talking and wrinkled his nose slightly, as if the memory hurt him. But his fingers continued to stroke the neck of his wife, who sat in front of him, pale and tense as an overly taut string.

– My father was angry with me. His anger was so great that he began to berate and insult me in front of his own guests. He was drunk. He smelled of alcohol so badly that I almost fainted from the odour, which was disgusting to me at the time. I was only a curious child who had recently lost his mother. – Mr. Wington took a deep breath, his dark eyes fixed on the reflection of Vivian's face. – I remembered his face forever: red as an apple, so red I thought his head would explode.

– I'm sorry you had to suffer such a horror, and as an innocent little boy," she said quietly.

– So am I. But that's not the end of the story. – Jeremy leaned down and picked up the whip again. – My father sent me back to my room, and I lay awake, crying. And when the guests left late that night, he burst into my room, dragged me out of bed, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me to the stables. There he ripped off my night shirt, tied my hands to a stall and whipped my back. Thirteen times. I counted every stroke.

– Your father obviously had some serious mental illness… To do that to his own child! – Vivian said, feeling sincere pity for her husband, and took the palm of his hand, which he was stroking her neck, in her own.

– No, he was just teaching me a lesson," he said nonchalantly. – A lesson I've learnt for the rest of my life: never question someone you depend on. Never fight someone who is stronger than you. You disappointed me today, my love, and as a good husband, I must teach you obedience. But, since you are but a fragile woman, I will only give you five strokes.

Vivian sighed loudly and frantically pressed her spouse's palm. She didn't want to believe Jeremy's words, but she knew his character and realised that he would carry out his threat.

– Jeremy, my beloved husband, I think you're getting too emotional," Vivian said in as calm a tone as she could manage. – I was too hasty myself when I said those awful things to you on the way home. But, darling, I have had plenty of time to reflect, and I have found that I have behaved unworthily. You are my husband, and I love you. I'm sorry if my bad words have hurt you.

She wasn't going to humiliate herself in front of him, wasn't going to give in to his madness, but the instinct of self-preservation took over reason, and those words full of humiliation came out of her mouth.

Vivian knew the pain of the whip on human skin: when she was a girl of seven, her father's governess had whipped her for the smallest fault or mistake in her writing. The girl still remembered how her skin burned, and the humiliation of the thin whip the governess had borrowed from her employer. And Vivian's father knew how the old woman used her formidable weapon. He knew, but pretended not to notice.

– Apology accepted. But, my angel, I can't just forget what happened. I promise I'll try not to hit you too hard," Jeremy replied curtly. – Get up off the pouffe and turn to me.

– No, I'm begging you! – She exclaimed desperately, barely audible, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, as if she were already trying to protect her body from the blows.

– Darling, don't be afraid, I want your arms, not your back," said Mr. Wington, as if to comfort her. – But if you continue to be stubborn, I'm afraid I'll have to use force, but that will hurt your beautiful buttocks.

With hatred burning in her heart, the girl hastily complied with her husband's order, and soon the first ringing blow of the whip descended upon her uplifted naked tender palms. Vivian was able to withstand it without even crying out, but the subsequent blows made her cry, especially the last one: it seemed that Jeremy had deliberately struck as hard as he could to cause her as much pain as possible.

After the fifth stroke of the whip, the girl's palms, flushed and slightly swollen, trembled with pain, and she brought them up to her eyes, full of tears and fear.

– Please don't fight me again, my love, or I'll have to punish you again," Jeremy said quietly and kissed her lips.

– I promise you will never have to hit me again! – Through tears, Vivian said, humiliating herself again and submitting to his will. "Monster! Monster!" cried the girl within herself. – 'But I beg you: let me see Charlotte and Anthony! They are the only friends I have in this city that is foreign to me!

– All right. But you must be home every night. No sleepovers at Miss Salton's," Jeremy smiled and kissed her again. – But go to bed. I have some paperwork to take care of. I'll wake you when I get back, and you'll have to prove to me that you remembered my lesson.

– Whatever you say, darling," Vivian answered machine-like.

"And even now he won't let me rest! After he has mutilated my poor palms! – Mrs. Wington thought with despair mingled with disgust, and as her husband left the bedroom, she lay down in bed, folded her arms across her chest, and, shutting her eyes tightly to keep back the tears, mentally pleaded: "Heavenly Father, Saviour and Comforter! Comfort me! Give me strength to endure all this for the sake of him whom I love more than myself!"