The room was dark, the bedside lamp providing the only light. Ivy was unsure what woke her. Stirring, she opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust as she straightened in the chair.

The clock on the mantle began to strike. She counted out nine chimes as she reached for the cloth draped over the basin’s edge. The water was still cool but a new bucket of ice was needed. How she hated to disturb any of the servants. They were as exhausted as she, running back and forth for the past three days tending to Sebastian’s needs.

With a half hysterical sob, Ivy tried to recount the order of the days, what happened when, but things were so desperate, and she was so fraught with worry, it was all a blurry mess. She recalled bits and pieces, people bustling about, caring for Sebastian, and for her too. There was the awful visit by Dr. Callahan, his diagnosis of poisoning, although he could not say with definitive certainty what served as the lethal substance. Sebastian’s symptoms did not fit with known elements of readily available poisons. That he could keep down a substantial amount of water was in his favor. Dr. Callahan’s consultation with various colleagues led to a recommendation of a small cup of salted water as a strengthening aid. The elderly man administered it, although he clearly held no faith in its value as a medical tool.

Both her father and Alan had taken a turn watching over Sebastian earlier that day while Ivy met Sara in the west drawing room, taking comfort in her sympathetic embrace. Her friend wiped her tears away, made her eat something more substantial than broth and forced Ivy to lay down on a settee, promising to wake her immediately should Sebastian’s condition change.

But worry and fear twisted her restless sleep until Ivy apologized to Sara and hurried back to Sebastian’s side.

She ran a gentle hand down her husband’s sunken cheek. Poor Sebastian. The things they’d done to hurt each other. Should he ever wake from this fevered nightmare world, where he fought invisible monsters and sobbed and cursed for reasons unknown, she would tell him over and over of her love for him. Until he tired of hearing the words from her mouth.

"How touching.”

With the stealth of a deadly spider dropping from an unseen web, Rachel emerged from the darkness to stand at the shadows at the foot of the bed.

"Good evening, Lady Rachel. Sebastian is resting comfortably at the moment." Ivy rose automatically, a strange sense of protectiveness trickling in her veins. “His condition has improved somewhat.”

A ghost of a smile played on the older woman’s pinched lips. Hovering at the edge of the lamplight, her blue eyes assessed the earl before she slit her gaze at Ivy. "My dear nephew has disturbed my plans.” The light glinted off something she held in her hand.

At first, Ivy did not comprehend Rachel, neither her words, nor the pistol she held. The information processed at a much slower speed than normal, a result of her exhausted state. Why did Rachel require a weapon? Did she fear Sebastian’s enemies might come for him here? Inside his own home?

Rachel waved the dueling pistol at her. It was a beautifully crafted piece, with intricate metallic etchings on the curved oak butt and a tarnished silver barrel in need of polishing. “Sit down.”

"I don't understand.” Ivy sank into the chair, her mouth so dry the words escaped in a hoarse whisper.

"It's quite simple, really.” Rachel held up the second bottle of laudanum Dr. Callahan left behind earlier that day. "It’s you I meant to poison, not Sebastian.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I can allow you to live? After what you did to Timothy?” Rachel’s breath burst out in a hiss. “What sort of mother would I be, if I did not bring you to some manner of justice? This latest development is unfortunate, and I’ve no doubt, should Sebastian recover and learn what I’ve done, he’ll pack me off to one of his God- awful lesser estates where nothing exciting ever happens and nobody of importance ever goes.”

Ivy shook her head in disavowal. "Lady Rachel, I won’t let him do that. And Sebastian will get better, he must. He’s improved already. Should you wish, we’ll help you obtain your own house, here in London…” The feeble attempt to placate the woman trailed off, doused by the spark of madness in Rachel’s eyes.

Dressed in a black silk ball gown of severe lines, hair scraped into an austere bun, Lady Garrett’s features were accentuated by the harshness of her coiffure. Coldly elegant, thin and pale, the past year had changed her. As if she’d wasted away from the inside out, devoured by grief and a hidden madness.

Rachel tilted the bottle so the light reflected off it. "I’ve mixed apricot leaves into your Rosethorne tea since the day you arrived. Wilted leaves will make a person deathly ill. Only a few at a time, of course, as it would prove too suspicious if done all at once. You’re the only one to drink the tea, so no one was ever in any danger. How fortunate he sent for more after throwing the old batch away. As soon as it arrived, I mixed in all the leaves but never expected Sebastian to drink it. He so rarely drinks tea.”

Ivy traced the filigree butterfly, somehow drawing strength from it. “Sebastian loves me. It will hurt him if you harm me. Don’t you even care?”

"I did care. Once. Before he chose you over his family. Over blood.” Rachel frowned. “Sebastian is very stubborn. He refused to send you away. He wouldn’t listen to me, although I rather expected it.”

Ivy thought of the strangely painful episodes experienced over the last weeks…her illness following breakfast or teatime. She remembered Sara’s distaste for the Rosethorne tea and her complaint it was too strong. There was the occasion Lady Garrett called for a different brew, claiming she did not care for the plantation blend. His aunt intentionally attempted to poison her and now, Sebastian’s life hung in the balance. She could be with child at this moment, its life equally in danger. Bile rose in Ivy’s throat.

"This will not solve anything..."

Rachel laughed. "Of course, it does. It eliminates you. And how I’ve enjoyed knowing you suffered from my actions. I want you to suffer. As Timothy suffered. As I have suffered.” Her voice turned pensive. “Do you know how desperately Timothy wanted you? Had he won you, he was to borrow funds from Sebastian to purchase his own home. To move away. Away from me.”

"You hate me simply because your son wished to marry me?"

"Oh, my dear. There’s more to it than that.” Lady Garrett’s eyes flashed harder, colder. "My darling Timothy. Every time you rejected him, his condition worsened. Timothy always took far too much medicine when those headaches came upon him.” She stared through Ivy, back to a stormy night the year before. “He cried so bitterly for you. And blamed me for it. He said you rejected him because I would not allow him to become a man. It was my fault you did not love him - my fault you refused him. Everything you did to him, he blamed me. He was crazed with pain the night he died. He wept at how terribly he’d ruined things; how I ruined him and destroyed his chance for happiness. I’d never seen him in such a state...” Rachel’s eyes narrowed, her fists clenching the bottle of laudanum so tight, Ivy feared it would shatter.

“He believed if he sent me away, he could win you back. But he needed me to take care of him! He did! He needed me to ease the pain caused by your heartless actions.” Rachel’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I gave him too much. He had taken nearly half a bottle already…I thought he was drunk and he did not stop me when I gave him more. I - I only added a little extra. To calm him...he was so distraught.”

Staring at Rachel in shock, Ivy did not comprehend the confession then the world tilted. “You gave him too much.”

"It was an accident.” Rachel snarled, hands wringing, her mind churning to make sense of what transpired that night. "How could you possibly ever take care of him? If he sent me away, there would have been no one."

"I was blamed for his death. But, it was you. All this time.” The last bit of guilt deep inside Ivy washed away. She took a deep shuddering sigh. Sadness, relief, elation, fear; every emotion crashed into her as if she were strapped to an out of control carousel. "Oh, Lady Rachel, let us help you, please. You don’t have to do this…"

A fog of insanity appeared to roll over the woman and Ivy knew the moment of pressing Rachel to accept either help or her own guilt had passed. Now, only a steely resolve existed within her to make Ivy pay for the imagined crimes.

"Don’t you understand, you dense creature?” Rachel bit out. "None of that matters now. You will swallow this, go to sleep and never wake up. I’ll be rid of you for good.”

"If I don't?" Ivy trembled.

"I will put a bullet through your head. If Sebastian recovers, he will think you killed yourself, perhaps because you thought you would be discovered as the one who poisoned him. I will put the apricot leaves in your possession, and he’ll think you betrayed him, just as Marilee did. This will no doubt drive him from England again. Or push him to depths of despair as great as Timothy’s.”

Fear for Sebastian’s safety surged through Ivy. That he might believe she betrayed him cut her with the agony of a thousand knives. That he might think she could harm him hurt even worse...

“Drink the laudanum. Things will go on as they did before you bewitched my nephew.” Rachel moved closer, her eyes fixed on the butterfly pinned to Ivy’s shoulder. “Of course, I won’t have my Timothy, but it will be as it was before Sebastian met you. Everything returned to its rightful place and their rightful owners.”

Ivy’s pulse thumped in her veins, the strength of it pounding a mad drumbeat in her head, making her dizzy. If Rachel came close enough, perhaps she could knock the pistol from her hand. She might even have time to make it to the door. A slim chance, but worth a try.

Rachel leveled the pistol with a sickly smile and a steady hand. “All the very best balls are happening tonight. Once you are dealt with, I plan to attend several of them and I imagine I won’t return before dawn. You’ll be dead by then. Such a tragedy. Sebastian will weep, but I’ll be happy to be free of you.”

Ivy shook her head. "No one will believe I committed suicide, or that I would harm Sebastian.”

"Won’t they, Poison Ivy? They believed you capable of driving my Timothy to his death.”

Ivy’s gaze locked with Rachel’s. "You killed Timothy.”

Rachel’s hand trembled. She thrust the bottle at Ivy. "Drink it. All of it.”

Ivy flung her arm up, knocking the bottle away while launching herself at the older woman. Crashing to the floor, they both lay motionless, the breath knocked from their bodies.

Smashed upon impact, the contents of the vial began spreading in a wide black puddle across the hardwood. Horrified, Rachel stared at the shards of glass, and retaining the grip of the pistol, she sat up, her movements sluggish.

Ivy lurched forward, attempting to wrest the weapon away. A hoarse cry ripped from her throat when Rachel knocked her back to scramble atop her. In a matter of seconds, Ivy was pinned to the floor, the weapon and her wrists held in Rachel’s iron-like grip.

Despite her exhaustion, Ivy was slippery and desperate, kicking and bucking until Rachel lost her balance and toppled partly off her. Scuttling away, Ivy knew a momentary triumph as her foot connected with Rachel’s ribs and her muffled shriek echoed in the room’s stillness.

The flash of victory was short-lived. Rachel latched onto Ivy’s ankle, using it to crawl up her body. Like fierce tigers, they rolled about on the floor, gowns tangling about their legs and hindering any efforts to gain a steady footing.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you,” Rachel hissed. With a sudden, twisting motion, she straddled Ivy again. For all her thinness, the woman was wiry, a crazed fury giving her astonishing strength. Her venomous expression was unlike anything Ivy ever witnessed before on another human's face. Hatred lit the blue eyes, an insanity that chilled to the bone. With one hand, she reached down, ripping at Ivy’s dress, tearing at something...

A scream finally poured from Ivy. High, foreign and so full of terror, she did not even recognize that it came from her. It seemed to go on forever.

* * *

In the depths of his nightmare, a sound reached Sebastian. To his fevered brain, it called, rousing sluggish blood to beat in frantic rhythm. Consciousness flooded him, making him dizzy, a shower of sparks inside his head touching off fires. Clarity rushed in with a punishing vengeance.

A scream reached a heart-stopping fullness then died away, buried in the muted sounds of a violent scuffle beyond the cool comfort of the bed he felt bound to with hidden ropes. Giving a massive shove of his shoulder, Sebastian raised himself. He must be hallucinating. Caught in a nightmare...because he thought it was Ivy screaming.

Peering over the mattress edge, he tried making sense of what he saw.

Locked in struggle, two figures were highlighted by the small pool of light thrown by the bedside lamp. His aunt straddled Ivy, their hands entwined around a dueling pistol Sebastian hazily recognized as one of Timothy's prized possessions.

“I’m going to kill you,” Rachel grunted. “For Timothy. For me. I don’t care if it looks to be an accident or not…” Both strained for control, a desperate fight the older woman was winning. Ivy sobbed, forcing the gun away from her face. She was drowning in the full black skirts of his aunt’s gown.

"What the hell...” His astonishment was a weak whisper.

"Sebastian!" Ivy’s eyes filled with gut-wrenching horror. "No…NO!"

Rachel’s thin lips curled. With inhuman strength, she jerked free of Ivy’s grasp to level the weapon at her nephew.

With the fierceness of an angry hornet, the gold butterfly stabbed Rachel, the long needle burying into the flesh of her forearm. She shrieked in pain.

Sebastian launched himself from the bed while at the same instant Ivy shoved Rachel back. Her fist connected with flesh; there was the sound of bone cracking and Rachel’s moan. Maniacal laughter and a gunshot...

The echo was deafening and yet it amplified everything, every sound, every noise. Stunned, Sebastian stumbled back, staring at his shoulder and the tiny, emerging stain. From a great distance, he heard people running, doors slamming. And a scream which slowly dissolved into a long, low wail of anguish.

Ivy. His Ivy.

Was she shot? Oh God, was she hurt?

The sound rang in cadence with Rachel's crazed glee as Sebastian sank to his knees. Hard footsteps thumped behind him. He needed to comfort Ivy, needed to reach her, to ease her pain, to wipe away her sorrow, but he could not seem to move. Never had he heard such agony. Except the night his mother died. His father made the same gut-wrenching sound that night…Sebastian remembered it so clearly, those horrible cries. The torment of someone’s heart sliced in two.

Something large and solid passed by with a whoosh. Sebastian crumpled in its wake, befuddled, staring at Gabriel’s back as the man appeared then disappeared from the pool of light. The subdued sound of a hefty fist striking flesh underlay the sobs and the laughter.

That laughter abruptly stopped; dying away into the shadows like a terrifying nightmare fades with the morning light. Everything grew grey, an eerie silence falling over the room.

Sebastian drifted for a moment, or maybe many moments, alone, untethered from earth. Until the aching sweetness of Ivy's lips brought him back. Dampening his cheeks were her salty tears, her soft hands cradling his face and pushing against his shoulder. The silky darkness of oblivion beseeched him but he fought its insistent appeal.

I can’t go…not now. I won’t go…

Ivy embraced him, saying things he did not understand. He focused on her lips, watching them shape words he never thought to hear again. Now she sobbed them.

"Sebastian, I love you. I love you. Do you hear me?" She kissed him again and again, tears splashing everywhere and Sebastian wanted to drink her tears. Like wine of the gods, their magic would sustain him, keep him alive. “Sebastian, my darling...my love, I love you.”

His breath escaped in a gasp of pain when Ivy pressed the heels of both palms against his left shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers. In the lamp’s glow, it appeared as inky ribbons of black streaking down his body. There was no color to the fluid. No color to anything, not even something as important as one’s lifeblood, he mused. Only black, white and grey.

Sebastian’s eyes closed, his body limp and sagging as Ivy shifted to support his head in her lap. She held him together with just her tiny hands. Holding him. His heart. His life.

"Please don't leave me, please...Sebastian. Sebastian!”

He could not muster the strength to answer her fading call. He wanted so badly to touch the beautiful face hovering above his own, but for some damned reason he could not get his arms to move. You’re an angel, he wanted to tell her. An angel with freckles and unruly chestnut hair. And the sweetest lips he could kiss for all eternity…my angel. Little butterfly...

Sebastian floated far above the earth. “I love you,” she kept saying. He held those words close and Ivy’s eyes, shining bright as stars, were the last glittering lights visible as the world spiraled to black emptiness.

She loves me…she loves me again, at last. She loves me. Thank you, God.

She loves me…