Page 60 of The Butterfly
Miss Agatha Daventry had smooth alabaster skin and dark eyes, though her hair was fair, not brown.
Lady Matilda Parham could have been Olivia’s sister, her features delicate and doll-like, her hair the same mahogany shade.
Mrs. Viola Cathorn … Miss Janet Pleasance … Lady Lily Kirby … all possessed brown hair and eyes and were of diminutive stature.
Apparently, Bertram had a taste for a certain type of woman, as was evident by those gathered, including the fiancée who had jilted him. There was only one woman who did not seem to belong among the others. Even sitting down, Lady Cassandra Lane proved long of limb, her stature setting her apart as taller than the other women in the room—she’d be as tall as most of the men when she stood. Her hair was a shade of strawberry blonde, her eyes a limpid blue behind a fringe of pale lashes. However, there was one thing about her that sparked an instant sense of kinship in Olivia: the gleam of something in her eyes, something dark and deep. She kept it hidden away better than Olivia knew she did, but it was there, marking her as a woman who had been through Hell. In that regard, she was no different than the rest of the women present.
The men were introduced, as well—all relatives of the ladies as she’d suspected, one turning out to be the husband of Lady Viola, Mr. Cathorn. As Winifred began, he crossed the room and reached over the back of her chair, bracing a hand upon her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.
“Now that we are all here, I think it best if I allow Lady Daphne to take the lead. She is, after all, responsible for our coming together. This plan is all her doing.”
Every eye in the room fell on Daphne as she stood, coming beside Olivia as Winifred took her vacated chair. She held Olivia’s hand and faced the assembled group.
“Thank you for coming. We all know why we are gathered, so I will cut to the chase. My brother has been a menace upon London society for years—particularly upon our young debutantes. I must first apologize for my ignorance of the matter. Had I realized what was happening, I might have reached out to you sooner … perhaps some of you would not need to be here. However, now that we are all in agreement that something must be done, the time has come to move forward. With you ladies acting as witnesses, and the name of the Earl of Hartmoor behind us, we have the power to see Bertram prosecuted within the full extent of the law. I know that many of you do not trust me, and I do not blame you. I come from the family of the man who violated you, and his father, who paid for your silence. But, you’ve been gracious enough to hear me out, some of you even going so far as to tell me your own personal accounts of what happened. Nevertheless, I know that my promise to see this done might not be enough … which is why Lady Olivia Goodall has joined us this evening. If you will indulge me, I think you all need to hear the extent of her own ordeal. She might be the most poorly treated of Bertram’s victims, as well as one of the strongest. I urge you to listen to her.”
She moved as if to pull away, but Olivia tightened her grip to prevent that. She glanced up to meet Daphne’s gaze, hoping the other woman understood that she could not stand here alone. She needed the strength of a person who already knew this story. Daphne gave a little nod and remained where she was, clinging to Olivia’s hand.
Straightening her shoulders, Olivia began her story. Holding nothing back, she told them all of it—their meeting at Almack’s, their courtship over several weeks, the sense of security he had lulled her into before striking. Then, she related the rest of the tale, including the discovery of her pregnancy and the asylum, followed by the years of madness she had fought against.
The telling was as difficult this time as it had been with Daphne in the garden, made all the worse by the reactions of her audience. Some of the men swore under their breaths upon hearing of how Bertram had slapped her and pinned her down. One of the women broke out in sobs while her brother held and rocked her as if comforting a child. Lady Cassandra stood from her chair and turned away into a corner of the room, as if unable to abide what was being said. And Niall … he never took his gaze off her, the dark irises simmering with rage and shock. There were so many details she’d never imparted to him, so many things he’d been ignorant of. She could see his conflict over the details he was hearing, the anger at her for holding it back, the fury toward Bertram for doing it to her in the first place, the grief hanging over it all like a heavy cloud.
When she had finished, she found that her cheeks had grown wet with tears she hadn’t even realized she had spilled. Yet, the churning in her gut had eased, and her hold on Daphne’s hand was no longer quite as tight. The sensation of relief that had followed the first recounting came again, and left her feeling less heavy. Only now, she also felt far less alone than before, seeing the expressions on the faces of the other women. They were united by their trauma, made part of a faction by their pain.
Mrs. Viola Cathorn was the first to speak. “You are so very brave, Lady Olivia. To have not only suffered such abuse, but to then give birth to the child of that man … how difficult it must be for you.”
Olivia accepted a handkerchief from Mr. Cathorn, who had come around the circle of chairs to deliver it to her. She thanked him and dabbed at her damp face before addressing his wife.
“The pregnancy and birth were difficult. But Serena is a beautiful, wonderful child. Despite where she came from, I love her. She has been a bright spot in my life these past five years.”
“She must be protected,” said Mr. Cathorn, returning to his place behind his wife. “Under no circumstance should you testify, Lady Olivia.”
“She willnae,” Niall called out from across the room. “Not if I have anythin’ to say about it.”
Before anyone could reply, Lady Cassandra spoke up, turning from her place in the corner. “So, we are all expected to publicly incriminate and ruin ourselves in her stead, then. Is that it?”
Viola was on her feet in an instant, glaring at Cassandra over her shoulder. “Lady Olivia is the only one of us whose rape resulted in a child. Of course she should not be made to testify. I, however, will do it gladly.”
“Well, some of us do not have the protection of our husband’s good name to keep us from being branded the ruined whores of high society, now, do we?” Cassandra muttered, crossing both arms over her chest.
“She is not the only one who became pregnant,” said a soft voice from the other side of the semicircle.
Olivia swiveled to find that everyone had now looked to Miss Agatha Daventry. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she looked down to her hands, which she clenched tight in her lap. Daphne let out a strangled sound of shock, obviously as ignorant of this revelation as the rest of them had been.
“Like Lady Olivia, I discovered my condition a few months after Bertram raped me,” she continued. “I panicked, of course, not certain what I would do should my parents discover that not only had I been compromised, but I’d also become pregnant. I was not as brave as you, my lady … I could not bring myself to give birth to that man’s child. So, I searched about the city until I found a woman who … for a price … would help an unwed woman eliminate an unborn child.”
Agatha flinched at the gasps that rippled through the room, choking on a sob. Sniffling, she swiped the sleeve of her gown across her face to dash away her tears.
“She gave me a dose of Widow Welch’s pills,” Agatha said. “They caused a great amount of pain, but no blood like she said they should. When I returned, she charged me thirty shillings to act as a surgeon and … and use this abominable iron instrument to induce the desired result. By the next day, it had happened. I lay abed weeping and writhing in pain, bleeding as the child was purged from me. My maid helped me through it, ridding me of the remains when it had ended. No one ever knew.”
Another of the men came forward, his face tight with emotion he tried to keep at bay. Agatha’s brother, she recalled. Tears glistened in his eyes, his fisted hands shaking at his sides.
“Why did you never tell me?” he ground out with a shaky voice. “How could you have done that? It is abominable … it is wrong … it is …”
“A choice I made, and have mourned every day since,” Agatha declared, coming to her feet to face her brother. “What do you know of what it means to have someone force himself on you, then find that you have been carrying a piece of him inside you for months—to know that you must birth it andlookat it every day? What do you know of any of it, Lucien?”
Lucien swiped at his wet face and trembled, shaking his head at her. “Mother would be so appalled.”
“Mother is not here,” Agatha countered before turning to face Olivia. “You did what I could not do. For you, and for that little girl, I will testify. I will ensure he can never lay a hand upon Serena. You have my word.”
