CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three days later …
livia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the cool morning air flooding her nostrils and lungs, the slight sting as pure and good as the scent of the blossoms growing all around her. Not as large or lush as her garden back home, the little courtyard cultivated with a small variety of flowers here in London was just green and colorful enough to feed her senses. Niall told her she often wandered to the gardens at Dunnottar, sitting amongst the blossoms. He said they’d made her happy in her more lucid moments, and she spent many pleasant afternoons there.
The tragedy of it was, she could remember no such times. The past five years of her life had sped in a blur of pain, misery, and torment, with Niall, Adam, and Serena presenting sporadic bursts of goodness and light. Looking back, she wondered how she had ever survived for so long.
But that is just the thing. I only survived … I did not live.
Reaching out toward a winter-blossoming rosebush just beginning to bud, she caressed the waxy green leaves, tenderly touching one half-open flower. It had been so long since she’d truly enjoyed the velvety texture of a rose petal, or the taste of her favorite foods. It felt like it had been an eternity since she had really laughed or smiled … or, anything, really.
And making love. God, how glorious was such a thing?
Bertram had robbed her of the chance to give her maidenhead to the person of her choosing, whether it be Niall or another. He had taken the last bit of her innocence and cast her into a dark pit of despair.
But her Niall had thrust his hand down into that abyss and taken hold of her, refusing to let go, coming into the darkness to pull her into the light. He had banished the taste of Bertram out of her mouth, giving her everything she had been denied. It had been worth the wait, she’d realized on the morning after her harrowing laudanum relapse. Everything she’d been through, all that she had suffered and lost … it could never be completely washed away. But knowing she could find pleasure and joy with Niall, knowing that part of her had not been completely killed, gave her a hope she’d never thought she could find again.
It made her smile in the days that had followed. It made her laugh and chase Serena about the halls—no matter how thoroughly it sapped her strength. It made her drink more chocolate and wine and eat all the foods that had been her favorites, and even discover new ones. It made her inspect the newly blossomed rose with such reverence and anticipation. Like this flower, she would bloom and grow, unfurling to the sun shining down upon her with such warmth.
Yes, she still craved laudanum. Daily, in fact. But it only took one look at Niall, one hug from Serena, one hour of playing the harp, to bring her full circle and remind her of the places she never wanted to go again.
Now that she was clearheaded, she became more aware of the things going on in the house. Adam was brooding as usual, though Olivia could tell something had been bothering him beyond the typical annoyances. However, he’d been so unpredictable in his moods, she’d been reluctant to pry. Niall had been in and out of the house on some mission he insisted to be important and related to their return to Dunnottar.
“We’re goin’ home soon, mo gradh,” he had told her just yesterday. “Don’t ye worry about anythin’ except gettin’ yer rest.”
She was sick of resting. While she did want to go home, she also wanted to know what the bloody hell everyone was being so secretive about.
The sound of soft footsteps over the stone path of the garden had her swiveling on the bench she occupied. She found Lady Daphne coming toward her, a shawl draped over her long-sleeved morning gown, a cap covering her auburn hair. Olivia shifted over on the bench to make room.
“I hope I am not interrupting,” Daphne said while settling in beside her. “You appear to be enjoying the pleasant morning.”
“I am,” she replied. “But I would love the company. Besides, we haven’t had much time to really talk, you and I.”
“I know. I have been waiting for an opportune moment … when the men aren’t underfoot. Adam is busy in his study with estate affairs, and Niall has taken Serena out for a walk. This seemed as good a time as any.”
Olivia smiled. “It is lovely to properly meet you, I suppose. Our first introduction … I cannot remember much about it.”
Daphne raised her eyebrows. “You thought I was coming to take Serena away and … well, you attacked me quite viciously.”
Olivia’s conscious prickled with guilt, one hand coming up over her open mouth. “Oh, God! Oh … I am so sorry! I couldn’t have meant it.”
Reaching out to pat her hand, Daphne laughed. “Oh, you meant it, but it is all right. You did not know me … only that I was a Fairchild. You were protecting that sweet little girl, even in the midst of your terror. I admire you very much, Olivia. I hope you know that. I do not begrudge you a thing.”
“Thank you. Still, I am sorry.”
“Think nothing of it,” Daphne insisted. “Now, there is something important you and I must discuss. Niall would kill me if he knew I was telling you this, and Adam would help him, but I do not care. This involves you as much as the rest of us, and I do not think it fair for them to go on handling you like a delicate piece of glass. I was once treated that way by my family, you know … cosseted, spoiled, hidden away from the things that might upset me. I do not like the feeling.”
“Neither do I. I have wondered what is going on all this time, but everyone seems to think I am still too fragile to stomach it. I am grateful for you, Lady Daphne.”
“Just Daphne, please. We need not stand on formality with one another. I should warn you that what I must tell you has to do with my brother.”
Bertram.
Her hands clenched together in her lap, and her mouth went dry. But, even as her stomach roiled and her hands began to sweat inside her gloves, she found that thinking his name did not disturb her as much it once had. In fact, the fear was just a little less acute this time … a bit easier to stomach, no longer so crippling.
“Is it too much?” Daphne prodded. “If it is, I will let the matter drop.”
Swallowing, Olivia shook her head. “No, no. It is time for me to stop running. Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”
“He knows … about Serena … your condition.”
Olivia choked down the knot of fear working its way into her chest. Her memories of the threats made against her reared their ugly head. She had been told that Bertram’s uncle would return to take the babe, and her fear for Serena had been a crushing weight during every hour of every day she’d spent in the asylum.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that days had passed since Bertram’s visit and that the uncle, William Fairchild, had been dead some time now. She had Adam and Niall here to protect them. The bruises just beginning to fade across Niall’s knuckles stood as a testament to his promise to keep them safe. If Bertram had not returned, there must be more to this.
“What does he want?”
“Money,” Daphne replied with a heavy sigh. “Quite a lot of it. He has attempted to extort a large sum from Adam in exchange for leaving Serena be and keeping his silence about your ordeal.”
“But he will never stop!” she declared, rising to her feet and beginning to pace.
The panic was overwhelming her, beating out rational thought. And, oh God, Niall had taken Serena out walking! What if Bertram happened upon them? What if something horrible happened? What if …
“That is why we must stop him,” Daphne replied, standing and reaching out to grasp her shoulders. “I have a plan, and Niall has been helping me set it in motion.”
This calmed her a bit, and she went still, shaking her head and trying to make sense of it all. “Niall? Why not Adam?”
“Because Adam plans to kill him … we are trying to intervene before he does.”
“He would settle on death as an only option.”
“Well, he and I agree that Bertram must die … we simply disagree on the method.” At Olivia’s frown, Daphne took her hands and guided her back to the bench, easing her down. “You see … I intend to have my brother prosecuted for what he has done. When Adam struck out to bring him down, it was mostly for your sake, but also for the sake of other women like you. It came to his attention that you were not the only one.”
While she had always suspected such, it brought her a certain kind of relief to hear her suspicions confirmed. Not because she wished what had happened to her upon any other woman, but because knowing she was not alone helped combat her mind’s notion that any of it had been her fault. If Bertram had other victims, it meant that she might have fallen prey to him no matter how foolishly she’d acted, no matter what she had or had not done.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and then released it, her mind racing at the implications of all this. “How do you plan to go about this? It is near impossible to bring down a peer … especially without witnesses.”
The idea of having to appear in a public court, to give voice to the things that had been done to her before the world, made her blood run cold. It made her want to retreat back inside her mind where she might hide from this pain, this fear. However, she’d decided to stop hiding, hadn’t she? Perhaps that meant finally showing her face to the society she’d left behind and letting them all know where she had been all this time.
“I have already been in contact with a magistrate who assures me that the testimony of Bertram’s victims will provide adequate enough evidence for a conviction,” Daphne replied. “However, he has warned me—and I agree—that it might be difficult to convince these women to come forward. The shame is bad enough on its own … now, we must ask them to air it all out in public. They could be ruined over it.”
Olivia wondered if Daphne knew that many of these women likely already felt ruined. Even if they’d gone on to lead better lives than her, they might always feel as if they carried the stain of their assault upon their souls. Perhaps it might be worth the exposure of all their secrets if Bertram could be prevented from hurting another unwitting woman.
“I want to bring these women together,” Daphne continued. “If even a few of them will agree to tell the world their stories, then we can put a stop to this. We can protect the women of London from my brother. I do not expect you to be one of them, Olivia—please know that. Of Bertram’s known victims, I can find no evidence that he sired a child upon any other than you. You were the only one who bore a child, who suffered in an unwed mothers’ asylum, the only one who …”
“Went mad,” Olivia offered. “I am the one who stands to lose the most by going public.”
“Yes. Adam and Niall would never countenance you and Serena being exposed, and neither would I. The purpose of my coming to you was not to ask you to testify. I simply wanted you to know what Niall and I are up to … what we intend to do.”
Olivia mulled that over for a moment, her gaze wandering out over the small garden. For all its beauty, she hardly registered any of it now, the foliage and flowers blurring into a mottled haze, through which she could only see the horrors of her past. What sort of coward was she, that she could not risk exposing herself in order to bring down her tormentor? How broken was she if she could not even speak of the things she had endured?
“I’d like to help, if I can,” she said slowly, thinking upon each word as if fell from her lips. “I understand the wisdom in keeping my own ordeal private. Serena is the most innocent of us all in this mess, and protecting her will always be the most important thing in the world to me. But, I might help you convince these women. Maybe, if they could see that they aren’t alone … if I told them what he did to me …”
Daphne was holding her hand again, squeezing it, seeking out her gaze with a heavy measure of concern in her own eyes.
“You are not obligated to do that. After all you’ve endured, you have earned the right to your peace and privacy, Olivia.”
She could be right; but, Olivia could not have stopped the outpouring of her soul in that moment. She had gone so long without speaking of it, confronting it. It was now more important than ever for her to step out of the shadows, if for no other reason than some other woman might be saved because she’d finally stopped being so afraid to face her demon.
“I’ve never really spoken of it, you know. When I returned to Scotland with Serena in my arms, I could hardly express myself in words. I managed to say enough for Adam and Niall to grasp what had been done, and my brother’s own investigation helped him puzzle out the rest. But, I have never actually told anyone what happened, how it happened, and I … I think that perhaps it is time that I did.”
Daphne went stiff on the bench beside her, back erect, hand clenched around hers, jaw tight as she anticipated Olivia’s story. It occurred to her that it might be difficult for the other woman to hear this, knowing her brother proved the villain of the tale. But she seemed to be made of sterner stuff than others might give her credit for.
“As you may know, I met your brother at Almack’s. It sickens me to remember how utterly he disarmed me our very first meeting. I was heartbroken over Niall at the time, missing him terribly each day that I spent away from him. I sought a distraction, something—or rather someone—to make me forget him. Bertram did that quite effectively for a time.”
She told Daphne of the broken string of her reticule and how chivalrous Bertram had seemed when returning it to her.
“In hindsight, I’ve wondered if he cut it somehow, in some sort of ruse so that he might play the hero returning my property. It endeared me to him, I must admit … so much so that I flirted more boldly than I might have otherwise. He signed my card for a dance, during which he charmed me so thoroughly, I thought myself half in love with him by the end of it. Ridiculous, I know.”
“He is good at that. Getting people to love him, I mean. I know that his tricks worked well enough upon me. My devotion to him was absolute … until I learned the truth.”
“I will admit, it is good to hear that I was not the only one fooled by him. For so long, I blamed myself for being foolish, for letting my grief over Niall drive me to do things I might not have done.”
“You mustn’t think of it that way. He might have gotten to you regardless.”
“Yes, I can see that now. The morning after Almack’s, he sent flowers to the townhome of my cousin and his wife, where I resided for the Season. There was a note, as well, with a beautiful bit of poetry scrawled upon it in his hand. Things progressed swiftly from there, and I found myself caught up in the romanticism of courtship. He took me riding, lavished me with compliments, gifts, small affections. Always the gentleman, he never made me feel threatened. When we managed to steal a private moment for a kiss, he never did anything more than I wanted and always stopped when I asked him to. He made me feel desired, and … I truly thought he might be the one. He spoke of marriage often, of his need for a future countess and heir. I told myself that I was ridiculous to have fallen for him—after all, London was filled with lovely debutantes, many of whom clamored for his attentions. However, he even found ways to squash those notions, to make me feel as if I were special to him. During our brief courtship, his head was never turned, his attentions focused solely upon me. Oh, he was polite to the other ladies, of course, but I was the only one he took riding or walking, I was the only one he danced with twice in one night, I was the only one …”
She paused for a moment, swallowing past the anxiety rising up as she went deeper into her tale. It was not so hard to speak of the beginning and the ways Bertram had tricked her into thinking herself in love with him. But now, she must tell the most abhorrent part of it all. The part that had irrevocably changed her life.
“I allowed him liberties I probably should not have. A hand on my breast, my thigh, under my skirts. It was thrilling, wanting him and being wanted, thinking that perhaps, it might be all right to be with him in that way if our courtship were to end in a proposal. The only other man who’d ever given me such single-minded focus had been Niall, and I could not have him. We could never marry or have children, or … well, Bertram was my only chance, I thought. I could be happy with him; I could love him. I allowed him to get me alone often, reveling in our secretive encounters while confident that he would always stop when I asked him to. Even if he tried to convince me to give him more, even if he grew a bit frustrated when I demurred, he always stopped. Until the one night when he did not.”
Daphne’s hand tightened around hers, and Olivia squeezed it back. She felt as if she might fall apart, sinking to the ground in a sobbing heap if not for the strength of that hand.
“I’ll never forget the day … the twenty-fifth of March. The night of the Duke and Duchess of Lorham’s spring ball. They host the affair outdoors, in their massive garden—it is quite larger than any other in Mayfair, they say. Bertram and I began the night as we usually did, meeting when he appeared with a glass of champagne, filled with compliments for my attire. While signing for two dances on my card, he whispered to me that he had missed me. We had not seen one another all week, and he wanted a moment alone. God, how thrilled I was at the idea of sneaking off to be with him. I counted the minutes until the hour struck eleven. We’d agreed to slip inside, seeking privacy while everyone else remained outdoors. Through the entire evening, he watched me from across the room, as if he, too, could not wait.
“At last, eleven of the clock came, and I practically ran through the doors of the veranda into the ballroom. He was there waiting for me, insisting that he knew the perfect place. We would not be disturbed. I went with him, of course. He had fully gained my trust by then, and I had no reason to fear him. He took me through a series of corridors, as if he knew where he was going. I supposed he had been to enough soirées in the duke’s home to know his way around. He pulled me into a drawing room and shut the door, taking me into his arms. Things began as they always did between us. All these years, I have thought back to the moment often enough to realize that everything was literally just fine up until the moment it was not. He worked me into a fervor, trying as always to press me past our usual stopping point, whispering in my ear how beautiful I was, how badly he wanted me, how good a life we would have together once we were wed. I insisted we should wait … at least announce a betrothal and have the banns called before we did something reckless. I wanted the security of an impending wedding, the knowledge that I would end the Season with him as my husband. He insisted it would be so, that he would give me anything … but he could not wait to have me, it had to be now. Even then, I did not grow alarmed, simply crying off as I had before. He had me on a sofa, laid back upon one of its arms. I sat up and tried to push him from on top of me. ‘The hour grows late’, I insisted. ‘We must go back to the garden before we are missed.’”
The tears she’d been holding back had begun to burn, too filled with her pain to be held in for another moment. She blinked, letting the first wave of them trickle down her face, her chin trembling as she sucked in a deep, slow breath.
You can do this … you must get through this, or you will never be free of it.
“Bertram did not budge, and for the first time, I noticed how heavy he felt, how much larger and stronger than me he was. Even still, I was not afraid. I simply thought him overcome by passion, refusing to let me go, still trying to coerce me into letting him take me. ‘You’re only scared,’ he told me. ‘I understand that your innocence might make this daunting. But I will make it good for you, love, I promise. I need you, Livvie … just a taste, love.’ I squirmed beneath him, trying to twist and writhe my way free. ‘Bertram, please,’ I begged. ‘We must not do this … it isn’t right.’
“In truth, this part of it had never felt right … the moment where I must decide whether to give him what he wanted. I suppose I still loved Niall so much more than I did Bertram, and a part of me … the foolish girl who still thought she could run off and marry the Stablemaster could not betray him that way. It was a part of myself I’d always wanted to give to Niall. But, Bertram became frantic, wrestling with me, trying to grasp my wrists and pin my legs so I could not escape him. All the while, he kept crooning to me as if trying to calm a skittish mare, murmuring to me that I was only frightened, and I would come to see there was nothing to be afraid of. I wanted this, didn’t I? I’d let him go so far because deep down, a part of me must want it. And by now, I am certain you are thinking that here is where fear must have come into the picture. Surely, by now, I should have worried for my virtue, perhaps even my life. But, I am ashamed to admit that I still trusted him, still believed that all I need do was convince him that I truly wanted to stop—get him to see that I did not mean to lead him on, but I simply was not ready. The truth of the matter is, I did not see past my unwavering trust in him until the moment he slapped me.”
Daphne sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as if she had been struck herself. “I am so sorry. I-I knew what he had done, it is just … I had not thought …”
“That it was violent? It is interesting, isn’t it, the way we women are conditioned. I do not know about you, but when I was taught to guard my virtue, it was always to be against flowery words or seduction. It wasn’t … I had never been taught that ruination could be so painfully brutal.”
“No,” Daphne murmured, lowering her eyes. “I suppose I never imagined it, either. I have never seen a man of my acquaintance strike a woman. It seems so … unconscionable.”
“It is … it was. And he did it without an ounce of hesitation or regret … slapped me across the face so hard, I saw stars and my eyes watered. I felt as if the entire left side of my face went up in flames. It stunned me still and silent, the shock of it overwhelming all my reflexes for a moment. In a way, I knew I must fight, that this would not end just because I said no. I became aware of the need to fight, to run away from him, and get into the view of others to save myself. But, I cannot describe to you the sense of betrayal and shock that washed over me just then. As I stared up at him, it was as if I were seeing him for the first time—the true Bertram. Like a mask had fallen away, and I was staring into the eyes of … of a demon.”
Her heart had begun to pound, her gut roiling, and Olivia felt as if she’d gone right back to that drawing room—could even feel the crushing weight of Bertram on top of her, the sickening bite of his knees digging into her thighs to pin her down, the sting of her struck cheek. If she closed her eyes, she might even see his face, so she fought against the urge, blinking to allow more tears to fall and staring out at the garden.
“He grasped me by my jaw, his hold unrelenting as he forced me to look at him. ‘There’s nothing I hate more than a cocktease’, he said, his voice taking on this grating quality I’d never before heard. It sounded as if he truly did hate me. Then, he went on hurling insults at me while pulling at my skirts, lifting them up. ‘Fighting me will only make this harder than it has to be. You’ve been practically begging for it since the night we met.’ ‘No’, I said. ‘That is not true. Please, Bertram … stop’. I was terrified witless by then, realizing that I had no choice but to physically fight him. Even as hopeless as that was, I gave it everything I had. When he shifted his weight to free me from the tangle of my petticoats, I drove a knee straight up between his legs. He rolled off me, falling onto the floor. I shook off the daze that had fallen over me and stood, running across the room with no other thought than getting out of it. But, he recovered far faster than I anticipated, overcoming me before I could get to the door. He grabbed my hair and yanked me back. His grip was so tight, I could swear a few strands pulled free of my scalp when he swung me around and threw me onto the carpet. I tried to crawl away from him, but he was on me within seconds, pinning me on my belly. He … he kept one hand twisted in my hair to keep me still so he could get my skirts up. When I tried to kick and squirm free, he pulled my head up, then slammed it against the floor.”
“My God,” Daphne rasped, her own voice roughening as if she fought back tears.
Olivia could not bear to look at the other woman, the shame of the words spewing forth too much to bear. But she could not stop now that she’d begun. She had not even given Niall these details, thinking it might have been unbearable for him to hear. Olivia had not realized until just then how desperately she’d needed to share this burden with someone.
“I nearly lost consciousness, my vision growing hazy, and I became dizzy. He seized upon the opportunity to pull my skirts up to my waist and open his breeches. By the time I’d managed to find the strength to try to fight him again, he … he lay on top of me and … and forced himself inside me. I …”
She sobbed, her body crumpling, the last of her strength giving out. A sensation like falling gripped her as she slipped from the bench and fell to her knees upon the ground. Trembling overwhelmed her from head to toe, and she felt as she had while suffering withdrawal, a swift and sudden hunger opening in the depths of her gut, her soul craving relief, oblivion. She did not want to remember, or speak of this. She did not want to relive the searing, mind-numbing pain of Bertram’s forceful invasion of her body.
But, she’d gone too far to turn back. If she were to overcome this feeling tearing her up inside, she must end this.
“I could not have fought him after that,” she managed between sobs. Daphne was at her side, a strong arm wrapped around Olivia’s shoulders, lending strength and support. “The pain … it was unlike anything I’d ever thought I’d feel. And he seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he was hurting me, that I was crying and pleading with him to stop. He told me there was no use begging now that he’d gotten what he wanted. The other things he said … they were filthy and foul. I sometimes hear him in my dreams, calling me a slut and a whore, telling me I’d gotten what was coming to me, that I’d earned this by playing coy and teasing him. This was what I got, he said … this was what I deserved.”
Daphne squeezed her, as if trying to hold her together, and Olivia’s gratitude in that moment was boundless. She felt as if she’d shatter at any moment, fall apart, dispersed over the ground in tiny fragments.
“I had no idea, Olivia,” Daphne said. “I do not know what to say. I do not know how to say I’m sorry I am without sounding trite or insensitive.”
Olivia sighed, shaking her head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. The fault lies entirely with Bertram. Though, I did blame myself for a long time, beginning the moment he finished, leaving me lying there on the rug. While I lay there crying and sobbing and hurting from head to toe, inside and out, he stood over me, buttoning his breeches and smirking. I’d thought that smirk charming before that night … I had found it mischievous and sly. But afterward, he might as well have been a tiger flashing his teeth after mauling me for how repulsive I found that smile. He told me that if I said anything about what had just happened, he’d make me regret it. He would make sure everyone knew what a shameless tart I’d been, how easily I’d parted my legs and offered myself up to him. And who would believe me over him after I’d spent most of the Season publicly basking in his attention? If anyone knew what had just occurred, of course I’d be ruined—more so than I already was. I’d become the pariah, not Bertram, and we both knew it. Then …”
She paused to swallow the bile that had risen in her throat as she remembered what had come next, a shudder of disgust ripped through her.
“Then, he knelt down and kissed my cheek, so tenderly, as if he were my lover instead of the man who’d just raped me. As if he loved me instead of hating me the way he’d claimed. ‘There now, love. I told you it would only be worse if you fought. This could have been so much more pleasurable for you.’ Then, he threw something on the ground beside me and quit the room—leaving me lying there with my skirts up around my waist and the thing he’d left on the floor right beside my face. A handkerchief, of all things. He’d left it there as if it were meant to be a kind gesture, but it only chafed all the more, reminding me of just why I needed that handkerchief. I lay there for a long while, unable to move or even cover myself. The indignity of it was crushing … so much so that I prayed that God would simply kill me. I lay there with my blood and his seed soaking my petticoats, and it was simply too much to bear. I wanted to die.”
Daphne rocked her as if she were a child, the motion more soothing that she’d care to admit. “I am glad you did not.”
For the first time in five years, Olivia found herself surprised to be able to agree. “So am I. Once I’d found the strength to rise, I stood and made myself as presentable as I could. I refused to touch his handkerchief, using my hands to wipe my face and try to smooth my hair. I stumbled out of the drawing room and somehow—miraculously—managed to escape the house without being seen by any of the other guests. I assumed Bertram went back to the ball, so I could not be free of that house fast enough. The footmen working the front door expressed concern, and I could only imagine how ghastly I looked, but I simply asked if one of them would hail a hack for me. I just wanted to go home. Once there, I could not get into a bath fast enough—could not scrub enough to rid myself of the smell of him, the feel of him on top of and inside of me. Even once I was clean, I was still unbearably sore, with bruises on my thighs. His slap hadn’t left a mark, but I still felt it, burning through my skin. I shunned visitors the next day and refused to leave my room. The entire world was so much darker than it ever had, and I felt no compulsion to go out into the city and rejoin it. My cousin’s wife tried to coerce me to go on walks, to attend soirées, to do something other than hide and weep until I could barely breathe. She thought me lovesick, brokenhearted as word spread of the new young lady Bertram had begun courting. Little did she know that my sickness had everything to do with him, but nothing to do with Lady Cassandra.”
Daphne perked up at that. “Lady Cassandra Lane?”
“Yes. She was the one who had caught his eye, the gossips claimed. I felt I should go to her, try to warn her to stay as far away from Bertram as humanly possible. But the fear of him kept me away; fear that I would come face to face with him, that people would be able to take one look at me and see everything. So, I continued to hide, counting the days until the Season ended so I could return to Edinburgh. I did not want to marry anymore, and I wanted nothing to do with the ton or its customs. Eight weeks passed before I realized …”
“That you were with child.”
Olivia nodded, smiling despite the memories this conversation dredged up. Even with all she’d gone through to bring Serena into the world, the girl would always be the light of her life.
“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.”