Lady Farquhar's Butterfly

by Beverley Eikli

  In two strides Max had crossed the room and taken her by the shoulders. ‘Duty? What has love to do with duty?’ he rasped, his face close to hers. ‘Nathaniel has no claim on you. He merely did what any decent man was obliged to do.’

  Olivia wriggled out of his grasp, pulling down the veil as her hand groped for the door knob. Salvation demanded she make her escape now. No matter that it tore her heart in two she had to do this.

  ‘And Julian?’

  His voice was thick with a mixture of anger and misery as he let her pull out of his arms. ‘If you marry Nathaniel I will not see you again; would not want to, for it would be more than I could bear. But what about Julian?’ His voice cracked. ‘When Lady Farquhar made no effort to contact me, I, fool that I am, allowed myself to become attached—’ He took a breath. ‘You read me well enough to know that I would never exercise my authority to keep the boy with me.’ He dug the palm of his hand into his eye socket as he dragged out a breath. ‘Am I to lose everything?’

  ‘You may see him whenever you wish,’ Olivia whispered, her wretchedness threatening to consume her. She could not bear to see him like this.

  ‘Provided Kirkman sanctions it,’ he muttered.

  Olivia gulped, nodding. Then, opening the door herself, she stepped out into the corridor and fled.

  ‘I thought Mr Atherton was leaving this morning.’ Aunt Catherine looked anxiously between her niece and her sister. ‘Mr Kirkman has just sent a message to say the two of them will be joining us for dinner.’

  ‘Mr Kirkman sent the message?’ Olivia put down her sewing and frowned at her aunt who shared the meagre warmth of their little fire from her favourite seat opposite.

  ‘Apparently he’s been entertaining Mr Atherton. They rode to the abbey ruins earlier and—’

  ‘Olivia?’

  Olivia jerked her head up at Aunt Eunice’s sharp tone and cursed herself for allowing her feelings to be so transparent. She wasn’t glad he was coming, and that, clearly, was what had excited her aunt.

  ‘I … just feel anxious. What if he’s decided to renege and take Julian back?’ she said, feebly, as she returned to her stitching.

  ‘Mr Atherton appears as unlike his cousin as is possible.’ Aunt Eunice regarded her with interest. She had always known how to read her. ‘Catherine, why don’t you tell the kitchen? One extra place is hardly worthy of all your frowns, Olivia. Mr Atherton seems a very easy-to-please gentleman. I doubt he’d be too concerned if we served him bread and dripping on account of the short notice.’

  Olivia said barely a word as her aunts welcomed Max into their fold before ushering everyone through to the drawing room for some Madeira before dinner.

  She wished she could simply disappear, taking Julian with her, and never return. She’d leave them all in a heartbeat, she decided, watching Aunt Catherine fawning over Nathaniel, and Aunt Eunice’s sharp eye roving over all, as if trying to understand that which Olivia wished heartily to keep from her.

  Why had Max come? Why hadn’t he just let her get on with her life according to their understanding of yesterday? Despite her long experience in play-acting she did not know how she would manage to behave towards him as if he were a mere stranger she had met the previous day. As for Max, what did he even know of play-acting? He was as transparent as the gossamer gowns her late husband had liked her to wear.

  She was terrified.

  Smiling faintly, she refused the seat Nathaniel offered her as they congregated in the drawing room before dinner, going instead to the corner of the Wilton carpet to kneel with Julian and Charlotte to play with the tin soldiers Max had bought for his nephew.

  The little boy seemed as subdued as she, though perhaps a little more responsive towards her than he had been during the few days she had spent at Max’s home. Quietly they lined up the soldiers in a neat row and distractedly Olivia stroked her son’s soft dusky curls, listening to the drone of conversation and feeling sick with dread.

  Would Max expose her visit to Elmwood in front of Nathaniel? She doubted that was his motive. Wearily she accepted he was making one final bid to win her back.

  Misery overlaid all. She couldn’t bear it. She’d well and truly accepted her fate.

  ‘—isn’t that so, Lady Farquhar?’

  She jerked her head up at the sound of her name. All eyes were on her. Max’s, most particularly. Without his good-natured smile and the gentle humour that softened his features he looked frighteningly like his cousin.

  ‘I’m sorry, did I alarm you with my sudden question?’ Max frowned in polite enquiry.

  Olivia’s heart pounded like a drum. The tin soldier fell from her grasp. ‘You look so much like Lucien,’ she whispered.

  It took a moment for him to register this. There was shocked silence. She put her hand to her mouth. Mentioning Lucien in her household was akin to mentioning the Devil.

  Max smiled and although it was not his usual open, kind smile, his resemblance to Lucien dissolved upon the instant. ‘Forgive me, I keep forgetting my cousin was your late husband.’

  With a nervous cough, Aunt Catherine said, ‘You do indeed bear a striking resemblance to the late Lord Farquhar.’

  Max’s cool tone was tinged with surprise. ‘It is not usually remarked upon.’

  ‘For there is no resemblance when you smile, Mr Atherton, and I think you are generally a good-natured gentleman.’ Olivia gave a shaky laugh.

  ‘Please don’t stand on ceremony with me.’ Max gave a rather thin smile. ‘We are surely sufficiently close to call each other by our Christian names.’ Was it only Olivia who heard the irony?

  She blushed and turned away as an image intruded of Max’s hot feverish kisses and her equally feverish response.

  ‘You were away, was it six years, Mr Atherton?’ Aunt Eunice intervened, indicating to the servant to bring the Madeira.

  ‘My regiment was sent overseas shortly before Lucien and Olivia were married. I returned to live at Elmwood after Lucien’s death.’

  Aunt Catherine took an appreciative sip of her aperitif. Entertaining was a rare treat. ‘It must have been a shock to have been given the wardship of your nephew though it’s apparent you’ve done a commendable job looking after him.’ Grey ringlets bobbing, she beamed at him.

  All eyes turned to Olivia at the sound of her stifled sob. Aunt Catherine gasped an apology. Aunt Eunice sounded glacial. ‘As you can imagine, it is a sore point with Olivia that her late husband publicly proclaimed her unfit to take charge of her son.’ She stared down her autocratic nose at their visitor who sat in the best chair by the piano, facing the ladies. ‘A child requires a mother’s love above all else.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ Max spoke softly, his eyes roving over Olivia, his mouth a thin line. ‘And I can see Julian is in good hands. I would be the last to deny the boy has a very’ – the tiny pause was not lost on Olivia – ‘loving mother.’

  There was a knock at the door. Olivia froze in the midst of having her hair brushed in preparation for dinner. She clenched her fists in her lap as the door was thrust open.

  ‘Young lady, I think you’ve some explaining to do!’

  Instead of Max, who had every reason to make such a demand, though his presence in such a manner would have been extraordinary, a glowering Aunt Eunice swept into the room.

  ‘That’ll be all, thank you, Dorcas.’ Olivia nodded dismissal at the maid and waited until the door was closed before she said, defensively, ‘You sent me on a mission to reclaim my son. I carried it out successfully.’

  ‘This man, Lucien’s cousin, Julian’s guardian—’ Aunt Eunice shook her head before continuing, ‘You led me to believe Max was as unsatisfactory as Lucien and you were only too glad to get away. My eyes tell a different story.’

  Olivia turned back to the looking glass, her voice dull. ‘I can’t imagine what you mean, Aunt Eunice.’ She looked stonily at her reflection, unwilling to meet her aunt’s eyes. Dorcas had just arranged her hair with a tumble of golden curls
threaded through with pearls on either side of a centre parting. Her gown of gold and cream satin set off her skin to perfection and around her neck the little key that Lucien had given her on his deathbed nestled in the hollow between her breasts.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone to such pains with your appearance on Mr Kirkman’s account?’ Aunt Eunice ground out. ‘The way you’ve rigged yourself up you’ll have the two of them engaged in fisticuffs at the dining-room table.’

  Olivia turned, indignant. ‘Miss Latimer delivered my new dress this afternoon. I had no idea Max would be accompanying Julian.’

  ‘Just as Max had no idea that the woman who clearly turned his life upside down and with whom he is undoubtedly in love, was Julian’s mother. Ah, Olivia, it was ill done of you.’ An uncharacteristically sorrowful look replaced Aunt Eunice’s anger as she rested her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. She shook her head, slowly. ‘Have you learned nothing since you married Lucien? Not even to trust your instincts?’

  Olivia swung round on her stool. ‘You think I’d trust Max with my heart? Max is Lucien’s cousin. He looks like Lucien; he glowers like Lucien. Surely you saw the way he looked at me. No doubt he has a temper every bit as evil as Lucien’s. You hated Lucien! Yet you would have me wed his cousin in preference to the eminently suitable, wellregarded, upright and pious Mr Kirkman?’

  ‘There are many men I’d rather you wed in preference to Mr Kirkman, though your Aunt Catherine begs to differ.’

  The dinner gong sounded and Olivia leapt to her feet. ‘Nathaniel can’t abide unpunctuality,’ she said, desperate to escape her aunt’s scrutiny. The last thing she needed was Aunt Eunice pressing her to accept Max’s suit over Nathaniel’s.

  At the dining-room door she nearly collided with Max. Bowing, unsmiling, he offered her his arm.

  Olivia met his assessing gaze with a distinct lack of composure before turning towards the table where Aunt Eunice was seating herself beside her sister.

  Max helped her to her chair. ‘You’re even lovelier than I remembered, Olivia.’ He spoke softly. ‘The last month has been a long one.’ Miserably she bent her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. And the gentle reproach.

  ‘I hope Nathaniel deserves you.’

  Raising her eyes to his she could discern no malice, nor did his tone or expression hint at sarcasm. ‘Max, I’m sorry—’

  ‘Ah, Mr Atherton, Olivia, good evening. My love, you are a vision.

  Isn’t she a vision?’ Mr Kirkman, seating himself beside Olivia, looked smugly at Max who proceeded to his chair opposite.

  Olivia turned her head away from Nathaniel’s possessive smile, uncomfortably conscious of his thigh within a hair’s breadth of her own. The way he fussed over her comfort seemed calculated to emphasize to Max his exclusive ownership.

  ‘I expect, Mr Atherton – I mean Max,’ she amended, with a contrived blush, ‘will be off early in the morning if you’ve more than three hours’ riding ahead of you. Shall you break your journey in Bath?’

  ‘You could, of course, extend your visit.’ Aunt Eunice gave Max an expansive smile. ‘Nathaniel must attend to business tomorrow. You could help Julian settle in. Isn’t that a good idea, Reverend?’

  The reverend’s nod accompanied a weak smile, as Aunt Eunice went on in answer to Max’s appearance of consideration, ‘Excellent. Well, there’s no need to remain at the inn when there’s plenty of spare room, here.’

  ‘That is, if Olivia has no objection to my presence under her roof. I would hate to distress her if I remind her so much of her late husband.’

  ‘Only when you glower, Mr Atherton.’ Olivia smiled sweetly, looking up from her plate.

  Max raised his eyebrows. ‘Good! In that case any likeness will hardly be remarked upon as I’m renowned for my good temper.’

  Aunt Catherine gave a little sigh of happiness as her glass was refilled. ‘What a wonderful state of affairs. Julian shall doubly benefit from the tender care of a doting uncle in his earliest years, and the wise instruction of his new stepfather as he grows to be a man.’

  Max cleared his throat. ‘I trust I might continue to see Julian often in the future.’

  ‘Of course—’

  Olivia’s prompt agreement was interrupted by Nathaniel. ‘Forgive me, Mr Atherton, but I believe it to be in the boy’s best interests if there is no contact for some months.’ He gave one of his lengthy, considering looks with which Olivia was so familiar, adding, ‘Julian needs to settle in to his new life.’ He turned at Olivia’s stifled protest and patted her arm. ‘I want only what is best for the boy, my love. If you can persuade me otherwise, I’ll happily accede.’

  Olivia refrained from any rejoinder as she acknowledged the devastating effect of Nathaniel’s words. Max’s affection for Julian was plain and although it would be best that Olivia not see Max again once she was married, she had promised Max continued access to the boy.

  She was relieved when dinner was finally at an end.

  She woke late after a fitful night. Her eyes felt gritty and her head buzzed with fatigue. Attending to her appearance, she wished she looked the picture of radiance Max had thought her last night, even though she knew it was a shameful wish. Running quickly up the stairs to the nursery, her heart contracted when she discovered the room empty. She hurried along the corridors and into the garden calling for Julian.

  Perhaps Max, unable to contain his anger at her deception, had kidnapped him. If he had changed his mind about relinquishing Julian he certainly had enough ammunition to bolster the case against her.

  Footsteps in the snow leading through the park gates only increased her fear, but just as she’d convinced herself Max had indeed made off with her son she heard voices.

  Advancing slowly, as quietly as she could, she listened.

  ‘Your mother loves you very much and she is your mother so it’s her turn to look after you.’ Max spoke softly. As Olivia could hear nothing from Julian she imagined Max was succeeding in soothing the lad. Raw grief rose up in her breast as she waited on the other side of the holly bush for the right time to announce her presence.

  ‘Not every boy is lucky enough to have such a beautiful and kind mother, Julian. Do you know how many little boys would long to have a mother like yours?’

  She heard a little hiccupping sob and was hard pressed not to add her own. Max’s bond with Julian was so much stronger than her own. She understood how hard it would be for her son. For both of them. Never had she felt so wretched though she consoled herself it was further proof Max would be better off without her. It was one thing to make men fall in love with her; quite another to live up to their expectations. Lucien had called her his little cream puff: delectable to look at, he’d said, but without substance.

  ‘And your new stepfather is a very upright and important fellow. At least in these parts,’ Olivia heard him add in a none-too-flattering undertone. ‘A reverend, no less! A very lucky reverend, young Julian, for he has got himself the most beautiful wife in all England. I daresay your Uncle Max is just an idle wastrel in comparison.’

  ‘What nonsense!’ Olivia brushed past the bush and frowned at Max.

  ‘I suspect you wanted me to hear that so I would feel obliged to contradict you.’

  Max rose, setting Julian down at his feet. Stooping to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder he suggested with wheedling enthusiasm, ‘Why don’t you collect us some pine cones? Your mother and I have some things we need to say to one another.’

  ‘What a good idea, my darling boy.’ Olivia smiled at Julian, trying not to take his sullen rejection too much to heart as she put out her hand to stroke his curls before he ran off. With difficulty she said, ‘What do you think needs to be said that hasn’t been said already?’ She wanted to channel her confusion into anger, but the way he was looking at her, his eyes smiling, a curl to his lip that was more gently challenging than malicious, threw her completely. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve admitted I used you shamelessly to get to Julian an
d I deeply regret what happened.’

  Max took a step forward, his smile broadening. With a quick glance at the disappearing Julian, he tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

  ‘What, exactly, do you regret? Falling in love?’ He touched her cheek with his forefinger, trailing it slowly down to her collarbone.

  Heat rose in her cheeks and her bosom heaved as she strained in a breath. His touch curdled her insides. Damning her susceptibility she said on a shaky breath, ‘Lucien made no bones about my deplorable character.’ She focused her gaze upon his gently curving mouth, wishing more than she’d ever done to feel the touch of his lips upon hers once more as she whispered, ‘He would have said wicked, carnal attraction was between us, nothing more.’

  Max chuckled. ‘I’m more interested in what you would have called it, though I have my answer just by the way you are looking at me.’ He cupped her face and brought his own closer. ‘You are afraid to risk your heart a second time, Olivia, but I am not Lucien,’ he whispered.

  ‘Lucien was a jealous madman who did not appreciate the greatest gift he was ever given. You! For I see little evidence of the character flaws Lucien elaborated upon.’

  ‘You’d discover them in good time.’ Olivia sagged against Max’s steadying arm. Covering her eyes with her hands, she fought tears. ‘He lived with me for seven years—’

  ‘And destroyed your self worth. Olivia …’ Max wrapped his arms gently about her shoulders and stroked her hair. The gentle drone of his voice was catharsis, blocking out the awful reality to which she’d soon return.

  ‘I barely slept last night,’ he murmured. ‘I thought of all I knew about Lucien. He took my initiation into his hands, you see, introducing me to his favourite gaming hells and other dens of vice. I was six years younger and, at eighteen, a willing disciple, though the novelty quickly wore off.’ He paused. ‘A year before, Lucien had seemed kinder. I suppose because he was in love.’ He drew out the pause, adding, ‘But something happened. He became the tyrant his father was. I heard he’d made a pact with the Devil; that he believed there was a fortune stored beneath the floorboards. He was insane, I understand that, just as I understand, better than you think, what your marriage must have been like. Lucien respected no one. I can imagine how he treated you.’