Page 50 of The Dove
In time, she’d be happy. He knew what to give her, what to do. She would come to accept what life with him could be, and everything would be as it should.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep, not rousing until she shook him awake hours later, declaring that they’d slept straight through breakfast and that it was now nearly noon.
He had not slept for so long in years.
Daphne spent the next few days resigning herself to life at Fairchild House with Adam. In truth, Olivia occupied so much of everyone’s time, she hardly had time to think beyond lending a hand, doing what she could to make the young woman comfortable. It had broken her heart to see Adam’s sister suffering, yet so resiliently fighting against the clutch of addiction to laudanum. She admired the girl for wanting something better, for needing more than what the numbness a bottle of potion could provide. And so, when she was not keeping Serena occupied in the nursery, she was helping mop Olivia’s bow, reading to her to help occupy her mind, changing her nightgowns and sheets, and helping feed her broth and water.
She noticed Niall eyeing her curiously when he came in and out of the room to take his time with her. Gone was the former animosity he’d once thrown her way, and in its place, she noticed an open curiosity. She mostly ignored him, not wanting to push him in any direction, and hoping that her actions alone would be enough to show him that she meant Olivia no harm. If she must be here, then she would do her part to help make Adam’s sister better … or, as well as she could be given the circumstances.
Some afternoons, she lay in bed with Adam, Olivia between them, caging her in to help her find stillness and rest. She often lay there, unable to sleep with Adam’s gaze intently set upon her, his gaze probing and pensive all at once. Not knowing what he might be thinking unnerved her, especially since she knew he would soon think of some way to retaliate against Bertram for what he’d done.
At night, he pulled her down into the darkness with him, reminding her of the tortuous bliss she could find in his arms. It took her back to Dunnottar, to those nights when she had surrendered to him, to her own base desires, bending to his will without a fight. He rewarded her well for it, reminding her of familiar pleasures, then teaching her new ones. She went to sleep each night thoroughly sated, sore in some places, covered in his fingerprints and bite marks … and so exhausted, she slept clear until morning, waking in his arms each day.
By week’s end, Olivia had begun to improve, the throes of her withdrawal not as constant as it had been. She begged to be allowed out of her room, so they took turns holding her arm and guiding her up and down the corridor, not wanting to push her body into too much activity too soon. Serena, noticing that her mother was out of bed, seemed happy to have time with Olivia, following her on her walks and chattering about the various things she’d done any given day.
Once Olivia was strong enough to manage the stairs, Daphne began taking her into the drawing room where the small collection of instruments had been stored. There, the young woman would happily lounge on a settee and watch while Adam began teaching Serena the basics of playing the pianoforte. He took her through the various scales and chords, displaying a patience she’d have never thought him capable of. Though, she supposed it was in keeping with the way Adam always handled his little niece—with affection and care.
One day, after Serena had finished practicing, Adam treated them to an impromptu performance, playing several compositions while Serena climbed into her mother’s lap. Daphne sat in a nearby armchair while Niall hovered near the door, his rapt gaze—as always—focused upon Olivia.
His playing seemed to cast the entire room into a thrall, closing out the world and encapsulating them in the drawing room. Daphne allowed herself to watch Adam without fear of being discovered as he’d long lost himself in the music, falling into a place where he existed as one with the notes he sent up from the ivory and ebony keys.
At least, she did not think he noticed her perusal. After several songs, his head turned, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. She gasped, taken aback by the suddenness of being drawn into those eyes of his, drowning in prisms of green and gold. He didn’t speak, yet when he inclined his head toward the harp resting in one corner of the room, her body moved of its own volition, legs unfolding and propelling her toward it. She sank onto the cushioned seat and reached for the instrument—a plain affair her father had purchased for her some time ago. It did not hold a candle to the beautiful, golden harp at Dunnottar, but its strings could create the same music.
And so, when Adam launched into a familiar duet—one they’d played together before—she fell into the music with him, closing her eyes and putting her fingers to the strings. She smiled as she played, surprised to find she had missed this feeling of being one with him and the notes—his twining together with hers on the air. She’d missed making something with him that wasn’t harmful or hurtful to either of them … sharing the one thing that brought them both peace and joy.
Several more compositions passed them by, and the other occupants of the room seemed content to linger and listen, remaining perfectly still.
Until Olivia stood and set Serena aside, slowly making her way across the room. Daphne noticed the approach and paused, the last notes she’d played dying away while the pianoforte continued on, Adam oblivious to the shift in the room. She gazed up at Olivia, who caressed the harp with her gaze, her brow furrowed as if she attempted to work something out in her mind. Daphne allowed her hands to drop into her lap and remain there when Olivia reached out, caressing one of the strings, her touch too light to create a note, but still connecting with the familiar instrument.
Adam struck a discordant note, swiftly turning his head as he finally noticed that Daphne had gone silent. He drew in a sharp breath, but remained quiet. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as they collectively waited for Olivia to move, to speak, to … dosomething. To give them hope that she was not completely lost.
Yet, she seemed lost in her mind, her gaze darting and her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as her hands began to shake. Before she could pull away from the strings, Daphne reached out to grasp her hand, gently moving it back to the instrument. She smiled, keeping her tone low and light when she spoke.
“I’ve heard you play beautifully,” she remarked. “I think we would all love to hear you.”
The gazes of the others bored into Daphne, but she ignored them, focusing on Olivia. Adam’s sister stood on a precipice, just on the edge of regaining one of the many things she’d lost.
She swallowed and cleared her throat before replying. “I … I do not think I remember how.”
Daphne breathed a small sigh, relieved for some sign that Olivia was still with them, still lucid. She slowly rose from her seat and shifted away to make room for Olivia. Then, she took the other woman’s arm in a gentle hold and began carefully maneuvering her into the chair.
“That’s quite all right,” she replied. “Would you like to try? I am certain once you attempt it, your mind will take to it as easily as it once did.”
Olivia cast her a glance, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty. Daphne merely gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. When Olivia still did not move, Daphne turned to glance at Niall, who had stumbled farther into the room, eyes wide, mouth pinched. She invited him to come with a wave of her hand. He seemed to war with himself for a moment, and she understood his inner struggle. The man did not trust her with his Livvie, but also seemed curious about where this could lead.
“Please,” she whispered, imploring him with her gaze and hoping he could see her sincerity. “I think you can help her with this in a way the rest of us cannot.”
Niall sighed, but nodded in agreement, quickly making his way to them. When he drew near, Daphne reached for his hand, smirking when the man flinched and glared at her. Ignoring his assessing stare, she guided his hand toward Olivia’s. He curled his large, rough fingers around Olivia’s slender ones, and Daphne stepped back, motioning for him to come closer.
“Put her hands to the strings,” she whispered, her gaze locked on the two joined hands—a stark juxtaposition reminding everyone in the room that they did not belong together.
Niall had the hands of a man who’d done manual labor his entire life—big and calloused, with scars crisscrossing the knuckles. In contrast, Olivia’s were petite, pale, long-fingered, smooth. Yet, she responded to his touch, her fingers bending, then straightening, moving as if they wanted to remember what to do.
The butler cast Daphne a questioning glance, and she smiled at him. “It’s all right … just help her remember. Help her try.”
He nodded and turned back to Olivia, moving to position himself behind her. He used one hand to guide her fingers to the strings while bracing the other on her shoulder.
“Ye know how it’s done,mo ghradh,” he murmured. “I remember ye used to play such beautiful music. That part o’ ye is still in there someplace.”
