The Butterfly Formatted

by Vale, Victoria

  “I was horrified, of course,” she said. “It was the worst possible outcome … the one thing that would ensure I’d never move forward from what had been done to me. Of course, my first thoughts were of my family and what they would think of me when I was forced to reveal my condition to them. Then, I thought of how I’d be perceived in society, how people would shun me as a whore. It hardly seemed fair that Bertram had raped me, but I would be the one to bear the brunt of the shame over it. I thought that if Adam were here, he’d have known what to do, but he was a world away. My letters could take months to reach him, and by then, I’d have begun to show. And so … I talked myself into going to Bertram myself. I decided that swallowing my pride to ensure he knew what he’d done was the only thing I could do. My cousin would have cast me out if he’d known—sending me home to my stepfather. And the earl … he would have treated me no better than the rest of the world might have. He had always made it clear that I was not his daughter, that he was merely biding his time until I became some other man’s problem. I had no choice but to attempt to coerce Bertram into doing what was right. I did not know if I could stomach what would have to be done to make my child legitimate, but I was willing to do it for her. I was willing to excuse Bertram’s behavior if he showed remorse and attempted to make things right. He acted predictably, of course—insisting that in the time since he’d forced me, I could have been with any number of men and he had no way of knowing the babe was his. He shunned me, so I went to your father … who offered me a bank draft in lieu of forcing his son to act honorably.”

  “It was his way of covering the scandals,” Daphne said with a derisive snort. “One of the reasons it was so easy for Adam to turn my family into paupers. You were not the first he attempted to pay off, and you were not the last.”

  “That is what Adam told me,” she replied. “But I did not want his money. I just wanted someone to do what was right, for once. I was desperate, and angry, and … I did not know what else to do. I wondered if any other man in the Fairchild family might be honorable enough to help me. As the days and weeks passed, I grew more and more afraid that someone would notice the signs of my condition. This left me with only one person left to turn to.”

  “My Uncle William.”

  “Yes. I do not know what I could have been thinking. I had hoped that things had not spun so far out of my control—that perhaps, there was still hope my life could be salvaged. When I went to your uncle, he acted as if he were shocked by Bertram’s behavior. He was kind and understanding, insisting that he would see that his nephew was made to see the error of his ways. He would set things right, and I was to trust him. I know now how foolish I was, how naive. But at the time, I was just so relieved that, finally, someone wanted to help me. I didn’t think twice when he told me to pack my things and sneak away to meet him. He would take me someplace safe—a place to hide my pregnancy until Bertram could be brought to heel. I was told he would come to me, that by the time my child was born, all would be settled. What other choice did I have? I did as William asked. I met him with as many of my belongings as I could carry, letting him take me away in his coach. I thought him one of the kindest men I’d ever met—so different from Bertram, or my stepfather. He had me fooled through our entire journey, seeing to my comfort always. It was not until we had reached our destination that he revealed his true motives. As you know, it was not some country estate he delivered me to … but an unwed mothers’ asylum on the edge of the country. The place looked like a medieval tower straight from a storybook and was overseen by nuns from a neighboring convent.”

  “I had always heard of such places, but never understood how horrible they were until Adam told me what you’d endured,” Daphne said. “I could not believe Uncle William would do something so repugnant.”

  Olivia swiped at the last of her tears. “The man was quite glad to be rid of me. He told me that I was a problem he’d been chosen to solve—a thorn in the side of the Fairchild family. He said I was where I belonged, and if I’d known what was good for me, I would have taken the money. I begged him not to leave me there, practically chased him back to his coach. I cursed him as he drove off into the night and left me standing there with half a dozen nuns looking on. The one in charge—her name was Mother Abigail, but behind her back, the unwed mothers referred to her as Mother Dragon. She came to me as I knelt on the ground weeping. I tried to explain my circumstances to her. I begged to be sent back to London, where my cousin would reimburse them for whatever it might cost. I would tuck tail and run back to the earl and pray he had mercy upon me.

  “The mother gazed down at me with the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen and sneered. She looked at me as if I were the foulest creature in the world and laughed. She laughed at me. Then, she slapped my face and wrenched me to my feet by my arm. ‘Until Fairchild returns for the babe, we’ve been told you are to stay here, and here you’ll remain,’ she said. ‘No one else wants you, you foul whore. Don’t you understand? This is your home now, and you will serve your penance for the sins of the flesh you have committed.’ No amount of begging, pleading, or reasoning could save me then. I was in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get back to London, without my brother to save me. I could only hope and pray that someone would come looking for me, someone would track me to that awful place and rescue me. I languished there for months, and no one ever came … no one ever rescued me. I was alone, cold, and in the dark. There were other women there, but we were not allowed to speak to one another or make friends. There was not a soul in that place who loved or cared for me. No one who showed me affection or care. Mother Abigail beat us when we did not work fast enough or well enough for her, or when we spoke out of turn. We were barely fed—it is a wonder Serena was born as healthy as she was. I dreamed nearly every night of giving birth to a stillborn child, and of Bertram descending upon me out of the dark to hurt me again. By the time Serena was born, I had broken under the strain. I could hardly eat or sleep, I could not feel anything aside from the despair. Even the cold had ceased affecting me, simply proving to be part of my environment. Serena’s birth was absolutely horrid—long and painful, and there was so much blood. Mother Abigail delivered my daughter herself, all the while cursing me as a degenerate whore and doing nothing to help stifle the bleeding or make me more comfortable. This was my cross to bear for my sins, and if I died in childbirth, then it was the price God required of me. If I survived, I ought to thank Him and mend my wicked ways.”

  “That such a place is allowed to exist in England is disgraceful,” Daphne spat. “No woman should endure such treatment, especially not in such a delicate condition. It is a testament to your strength that you survived.”

  “Perhaps,” Olivia hedged. “I only knew that I needed to live for Serena. Once she was born, word was sent to London, and I feared William, Bertram, or your father would come any day to take her away from me. Only, Adam arrived first. My cousin had written to tell him that I’d gone missing. By the time he got word and traveled to England to track me down, it was too late. I was so lost, I could not speak or feel, could see nothing other than Bertram looming over me with that cruel glint in his eyes and Mother Abigail cursing my name as I lay screaming and bleeding. Over the years, I have missed so much—of my own life, as well as the lives of the people I love. If I can prevent that from happening to anyone else, then I will. The guilt of not having done it sooner has rested upon me for so long. I hid myself away and wallowed in my pain while he went on hurting others the same way he had me. I can no longer allow that to happen.”

  Daphne stood and then offered her a hand up. “You do not owe anyone anything. I am grateful that you trusted me enough to tell me your tale. But you are not obligated—”

  “But I am,” Olivia insisted, clutching both of Daphne’s hands as they stood facing one another. “Not just for the other women, but for myself and Serena. For Adam, who has blamed himself all these years for not being here when I needed him. For Niall, who loved me through my
darkest hours, when he could have just as easily moved on with someone else. For us all, so that we might finally stop being so angry, sad, and afraid. If I cannot testify, then I will do the next best thing. If you need help convincing the others to tell their stories, then who better to help you than me?”

  Daphne’s expression conveyed unabashed shock. “Are you certain? As I said, you do not have to be a part of any of this.”

  Olivia offered a smile, finding that the motion came easier than it had in some time. Perhaps the unburdening of her darkest secrets had lifted some of the weight from her own shoulders. With Daphne here to offer assistance, to bear some of that weight, perhaps everything would be all right, after all.

  “I am sure. If you and Niall can gather them all together, bring me into their midst, and let me do the rest. I cannot stand back and let you all go off to fight without doing my part.”

  Returning her smile, Daphne gave her hands a squeeze. “Very well. I am certain hearing your story will make them all the more determined to help bring him down.”

  “What’s this, then?” Niall’s voice intruded.

  Olivia released Daphne and turned to find him descending upon them, having just come from the house still wearing his greatcoat. He and Serena must have just finished their walk.

  “Hello, Niall,” she said, coming forward to meet him.

  He grasped her shoulders, gazing down into her eyes, then to Daphne with a withering glare. “She’s been cryin’. What did ye do to her?”

  Before Daphne could reply, Olivia wrapped her arms around him, leaning in so they were pressed together. “It was none of her doing. But, there is something we must discuss.”

  “I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Daphne said, edging past them with a little smile in Olivia’s direction.

  She nodded to the other woman—a new friend, she supposed she must think of her now, an ally. Once she had disappeared from the garden, Olivia turned back to Niall, gazing up into his face to find concern and curiosity marring his brow.

  “What’s goin’ on, mo gradh?”

  “Daphne told me about your plans—”

  “Goddamn it, I told her I didnae want ye involved!”

  Standing on tiptoe, she pressed a finger to his lips. “She did the right thing, Niall. I know you only want to protect me, but I am tired of being coddled. I am not as fragile as I once was, and the time has come for me to have a hand in my own protection, and my daughter’s, as well. I know that it can only expose Serena if I testify, when all the world is not even aware of her existence. It is for that reason I cannot testify—I will not subject her to public scrutiny and scorn.”

  He relaxed against her. “That’s a wise choice, Livvie.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “However, I have decided to help the two of you recruit his other victims and convince them to come forward. Daphne and I think that if they knew what the Fairchild family did to me, they would see they are not alone … they would perhaps understand how important it is that we stand up to him in some way. If I can be instrumental in that, then I will do what I must.”

  Niall wrapped his arms around her and lifted her until her feet left the ground and she rested against his chest, her eyes level with his. “I dinnae like this, but—”

  “Please do not try to stop me, Niall. This is what I feel I must do.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose and smirked. “Hear me out, mo gradh. I dinnae like this. I worry that it’ll hurt ye to speak of it, that someone will go flappin’ their jaw, tellin’ yer secrets. I dinnae want ye anywhere near any of it. But … we’ve made so many decisions for ye over the years, thinkin’ ye weren’t well enough to make them for yerself. I know now that was a mistake. Me and Adam didnae know better, but I see how strong ye are, and how hard ye fought to get back to us. So, if ye tell me ye’re sure, and this is what ye want to do, then I willnae stop ye. I’ll do everything I can to help ye.”

  Olivia did not think she’d ever loved him more, and she showed him so without words. Clinging to his neck, she captured his mouth in a long, lingering kiss, pouring every bit of affection she felt for him into it. He tightened his hold upon her, sparking heat between their bodies, bringing parts of her to life that she’d worried for years had been destroyed by Bertram. The surface of her skin tingled, her breasts tightening, belly quivering as she thought of coercing him into laying her down and joining their bodies right here in the garden.

  “You are the greatest gift God could have given me,” she murmured. “I am grateful for you, Niall, and I love you so much. Thank you … for everything you’ve ever done for me.”

  He shook his head, the furrows in his brow becoming deeper and more defined. “Ye dinnae have to pretend as if I’ve always been good to ye. We both know I’m the one who sent you rushin’ off to London. If I’d been brave enough to follow our plan instead of lettin’ yer da scare me into endin’ things, ye never would’ve been hurt.”

  It broke her heart that he still felt he shouldered blame for what had happened. He had finally come clean years ago during one of her more lucid moments, telling her all of what had occurred between him and her stepfather … how he’d only pushed her away in order to protect her. He still did not understand that she did not hate him for it—she only loved him all the more.

  “I have never blamed you for any of it,” she assured him. “And you should not blame yourself. What’s done is done, Niall. We can only look forward, and once Bertram has been dealt with, we will be free to do just that.”

  His face finally smoothed over, the smile she so adored coming forth and reminding her of the boy she’d fallen in love with. “Ye’re the love of my life, mo cridhe. Ye know that?”

  Threading her fingers in his hair, she moved in for another kiss. “And you are mine, my love … forever and always.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  iall and Daphne made good on their plan by noon the following day. Olivia had just sat down to tea with Serena when they came to tell her the news. There would be a gathering of women at the home of Miss Winifred Bellingham this evening—six of Bertram’s accusers had agreed to hear them out. According to Daphne, Miss Bellingham had not been harmed by Bertram, but had been engaged to him for a short time … before Adam had told her of his misdeeds as part of his plan to ruin him. It had worked, as she’d called off the engagement months ago, not long before word had begun to spread that the Fairchilds were now destitute. Apparently, she and Daphne had become friends, and she was keen to help them in any way she could.

  “Even if only half of them agree to testify, it will be enough,” Daphne told her, eyes wide and bright as she sat to join them for tea. “But, it is my hope that once they all hear what you have to say, and are made to understand how important this is, every last one of them will be willing to join us.”

  “They will be,” Niall remarked, lifting Serena out of her seat, taking it for himself, then setting her upon his knee. “But once they agree, we’ll need to move fast. This morning, Adam told me he means to meet with Bertram tomorrow night. He’s pretended to cave in to the demand for sixty-thousand pounds, but when they come face to face, Hart’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

  He muttered all of this while reaching past Serena for a handful of lemon tartlets, then slipped one into his mouth and chewed with relish, as if they were not discussing the potential for murder while Olivia’s daughter sat upon his knee. Thankfully, Serena was too engrossed in her tea and the little scone set in her saucer to notice.

  “We will be ready to intervene,” Daphne declared while adding milk to her cup. “And when we do, we’ll announce our intention to prosecute Bertram. If he’s going to die, it must be done within the law. I will not let him drag Adam down with him.”

  “Do you think Hart suspects what we are up to?” Olivia asked.

  “No,” Daphne replied. “I’ve told him I am getting my affairs in order so I can be ready to depart for Dunnottar with you all when this is over. He actually believed me.”


  That surprised her. Adam had always been perceptive, able to see through pretenses and lies. Olivia had certainly never been able to get anything past him—except perhaps, how deep her love for Niall ran. But then, she’d managed to keep that a secret from just about everyone.

  “Very well,” she said between sips of tea. “I will be ready this evening.”

  The rest of the day passed far too slowly for her peace of mind, the impending meeting putting her on edge. She tried to focus her mind elsewhere—spending an hour at the harp, another hour romping with Serena in the garden, and what was left of her evening reading before dinner. The meal was a solemn affair, with Adam brooding in his place at the head of the table, Daphne attempting to make conversation in spite of his horrid mood, and Olivia trying not to let her anxiety show upon her face. She worried that Adam might inquire why the three of them planned to the leave the house together, and she was not certain what they might say to throw him off the scent.

  Fortunately, he announced his intention to spend the evening at his favorite club; they were not to expect him back until late. She wondered if Daphne had anticipated this. Whatever the case, it certainly made things simpler for them.

  After she had tucked Serena into bed with kisses and a bedtime story, she found Niall waiting for her in the corridor wearing his greatcoat and hat, her cloak held over one arm.

  “It’s time,” he said, holding the garment out to her.

  Her hands shook so badly that she could not manage tying the cloak on herself. Niall took over the task, eyes probing hers as he deftly tied the ribbon at her throat, arranged the folds of the fabric over her walking dress, then lifted the hood over her head.

  “I willnae ask ye again, mo gradh, but this last time, I need to be sure … Is this really what ye want to do? If ye say no, we can forget about the entire thing.”