– I don't know, he's so busy with his printing business," Vivian smiled back. She brought the bun to her mouth, but stopped suddenly and dropped it on the plate. – 'After breakfast I want to go to Charlotte's. We're going to entertain ourselves by singing.

– 'Not today.

"Stubborn fool. I need to buy back my jewellery!" – screamed the girl inside her, but not a muscle in her face trembled.

– 'Not today, my dear?

– We are going hunting.

Vivian looked at her husband's face with misunderstanding.

He answered her with a shining smile.

– Jeremy, you know how I feel about hunting," Vivian said quietly. There was a deep wrinkle between her eyebrows.

– I'll do the shooting, and all you have to do is enjoy the running of the horse.

– But I don't want to watch you kill innocent animals," she said grimly.

– No one is forcing you to watch it. You can always close your eyes or turn your face away," Jeremy said in a noncommittal tone.

– Please don't insist. Besides, I've already made Charlotte a promise…

– I'm sorry you're going to have to break it.

Jeremy's face was so unruffled and his gaze so intense and burning that Vivian knew she would not be able to buy back her jewellery today. Instead, she would have to fulfil the wish of her hard-hearted husband.

A wish?

No, it was an order.

– Whatever you say, my dear. I'll write her a note.

– Good girl.

Vivian smiled falsely, but her soul was filled with a grave coldness.

If Jeremy was a fine rider, and his fast as the wind, thin-legged Arabian horse obeyed him like a faithful dog, his wife was hardly an able horsewoman.

As a child, when her father still had some wealth, Vivian had received riding lessons and had learnt to be confident in the saddle. But since she was eight years old, she had never been on a horse's back and was now filled with shyness and a slight fear of the swift running of her rather docile but frisky horse. Despite the fact that Vivian was wearing a comfortable riding dress and the high leather boots with a large heel, she felt as if she had never had a single riding lesson. She frantically held the reins in her hands and breathed rapidly, as if she was the one carrying the horse, not the other way round.

The great forest away from London was full of game, and this was where the London hunters were rushing to. The sunlight was drowned in the thick green crowns of tall, mighty trees, so it was quite dark.

The darkness frightened Vivian, made her feel like a bug lost in a vast forest full of rage and death. For that was how she perceived hunting, which her own cousin, as well as her husband, regarded only as a pleasure. Vivian did not want to be here, riding a horse along a barely discernible bushy path, waiting for her husband to find his prey.

Two trained hunting dogs – young, full of vigour and energy greyhounds – were running with the speed of the wind between the trees in front of their owners' horses in pursuit of a rather large red fox. The poor hunted animal began to lose strength, and soon a loud shot rang through the air, causing Vivian to shriek in surprise.

– What a catch! Marcus! Aurelius! You have done well, my friends!" Jeremy laughed happily and started his horse at a jog.

Vivian stopped her horse and looked regretfully at where her husband was pointing his horse: not far away from them, a fox lay a bright spot on the dark, dry ground. Blood was pouring from the side of the dead animal. Jeremy had killed the poor creature with a single shot, which, in itself, was an act of mercy: the victim had died painlessly. But this fact by no means comforted the girl who hated hunting.

Tears came to Vivian's eyes, but she hastily brushed them away with her leather glove: she did not want Jeremy to think her sentimental. The girl had no desire to look at the dead fox more closely, and, from a distance, watched silently as her husband rejoiced in his bloody success.

Jeremy did not hurry up to put the prey into the thick canvas bag tied to the saddle of his horse; he looked from the dead fox to the pale face of his wife and grinned faintly. Vivian's timidity and her open aversion to one of his favourite pastimes had hurt his pride. The young man felt that Vivian should have supported his interests as his meek, caring mother had done for her husband. Turning his horse round, Jeremy steered it to where his beloved wife's horse stood still.

– I never asked you that question, my dear," Jeremy asked with a smile as he neared Vivian. – You say to me, 'My love,' but do you love me?

– What a question! – The husband replied playfully cheerfully, but then her face grew serious: "I confess that when you proposed to me, I had no tender feelings for you, but I knew I would love you. And I did, my love. I love you.

– Prove it to me. – The smile faded from young Wington's face. – Bring me my booty.

Cold goosebumps ran down Vivian's back. She stared at her husband's calm and determined face, unable to find the words to answer.

– But you have dogs for that, my dear," she finally managed to force out of her throat.

– I wish you would do it. Come on, my angel. It's not as scary as you think.

Vivian swallowed but didn't move.

– Jeremy, you know how I feel about hunting…" she began.

– We're not going home, unless you do what I asked," Jeremy interrupted his wife.

Mr. Wington's tone was smooth but firm. He knew what he was saying and was ready to carry out his threat. Vivian felt it with all her being.

Without a word, the girl obediently saddled down and walked slowly towards the dead fox. Her lips trembled with grievance, and her eyes became wet again with tears of pity for the red-haired creature that had recently been running through the forest and enjoying the warm summer days.

As she approached her husband's prey, who was watching her actions with a satisfied smile, Vivian suddenly realised that she was afraid not only of the nights with Jeremy, but of every minute spent with him. It was almost an animal fear. Her body was like a taut arrow that threatened to break at any moment. But the worst thing Mrs. Wington realised was that she had married a tyrant. A man who, in his all-consuming love and passion for her, was jealous of her even to lackeys, and would not let her go alone even to Charlotte.

As she approached the dead fox, Vivian looked at the little furry body, covered with blood, with pity and sorrow in her heart. She wanted to fall to her knees and weep. Sob at the top of her voice. Out of horror. Pity. Hate for herself and the man she'd sold herself to.

– Hurry up, my love. There's a hot dinner waiting for us at home," she heard the soft voice of her husband.

– Yes, darling… Of course," Vivian said, finding the strength to reply.

She sat down beside the dead animal and stroked its head, wanting to comfort it as a mother would her child in the agony of death. Then she glanced at her bright glove, covered with blood, and with a cry of horror she drew back. As she fell on her back, Vivian hurried to her knees and vomited.

– Miss Salton! There's a letter for you! – Sarah the maid entered the room. – The Wingtons' messenger has just brought it! He's waiting for an answer,' she added, walking up to the mistress's daughter and holding out an envelope to her.

– Thank you, Sarah. Did he send anything else? – Charlotte asked hopefully, quickly unfolding the soft white paper.

– 'Nothing, Miss… Just this,' Sarah replied. – Can I go now, or what else do you want me to do?

– No, you're free," Charlotte muttered, thoughtfully reading what her best friend had written to her, who, however, had not been to her house for two months.