Page 57 of The Butterfly
“MyGod,” 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 andkissed 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 justwhyI 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 touchhishandkerchief, 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 thetonor 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. Shelaughedat 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.”
