Page 78 of The Butterfly
Thus far, he’d erected a separate stable, carriage house, and circle of paddocks on the grounds of Dunvar House—where he kept the horses he would breed. He expected several foals in the coming weeks, and a recent trip to Tattersall’s had seen him the proud owner of a trio of carriage horses—one male and two female. He hoped to breed a pair like his beloved Cally and Celeste, a prize worthy of pulling the equipage of any London gent.
Thanks to Adam’s influence and connections, he’d begun to amass a growing clientele of gentlemen in Edinburgh who hired him for the training of their stock. As word of his skill with the horses began to spread, Dunvar began to see more and more visitors as men journeyed from clear across England to seek his expertise.
Olivia had realized that his erratic behavior had nothing to do with business on the day he’d informed her that they were to take a trip together, just the two of them. On their way out of Scotland, they would deposit Gawain and Serena at Dunnottar with Adam and Daphne. Olivia had not wanted to trouble them, with Daphne being confined and the birth of her babe looming near. But her sister-in-law had insisted that it would be no trouble and she’d enjoy having the little ones about. Olivia imagined she’d grown quite bored during her confinement, especially considering Adam would hardly allow her to lift a finger, let alone walk about the castle, or even across a room.
All had been arranged, right down to the packing of her trunk. Puzzled and a bit excited, she had trusted Niall’s guidance, refraining from asking where they were going or when they would get there. It proved difficult, especially as it grew apparent they were headed to some farflung place.
Now, as she blinked to clear her vision, stepping onto the cold, hard ground of wherever they’d ended up, her heart began to pound. Her mouth went dry when Niall guided her forward, revealing what they had traveled across the entire country to reach. Her stomach clenched, and bile rose up in her throat as she took in the massive stone tower stretching up toward the sky. Like some monolith straight out of Hell, it taunted her, reminders of the time she’d spent here flooding her mind in an instant.
“Niall…”
His hand came to the small of her back, strong and sure. “It’s all right,mo gradh.”
Swallowing past the nausea welling in her chest, she blinked back tears. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had brought her back to the asylum where she had suffered up until Serena’s birth. The place where she had lost hold of her mind.
“Why?” she croaked, turning a questioning gaze up to him. “Why would you bring me here?”
To her surprise, he smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Ye trust me, don’t ye, Livvie?”
Despite the terror ripping through her like a hurricane, she nodded. “You know that I do.”
“Then trust that I’ve brought ye here for a good reason,” he said. “Ye’ll understand it all in a moment.”
Then, he was propelling her along, steering her toward the monstrous tower, his hand slipping tight around her waist to offer support. She did not want to go there. She did not want to be anywhere near this wretched place. Tremors wracked her from head to toe, her stomach churning and roiling as she fought not to be sick. For the first time in a while, the craving for laudanum reared its ugly head—hard and swift. It did not happen as often as it used to, but when dark moments fell upon her, she began to long for the thing she’d set aside. She wondered if she might always wrestle with these cravings. However, she did not dwell on those thoughts, nor did she live her life in fear of these episodes. They came, she endured them, and found some other thing to focus upon. Before long, the pain would ease, and she’d emerge on the other side, as strong as ever.
She could do this. She would face whatever awaited her inside this tower, and she would come out of it unscathed.
As they neared the place, she felt as if it were six years ago, and she was being left here by a carriage speeding off into the night. As if she were the frightened girl once again, facing an unknown fate.
But, one look at Niall helped her to remember. Her present life was more than she’d ever dreamed it could be, and her future shone bright before her.
They slowed as they neared the large, wooden double doors leading into the maw of the stone edifice, finding that they were not alone. Waiting just within those open doors stood several people—men and women whose faces she recognized as they grew closer.
Lady Parham and her husband; Miss Agatha Daventry and her brother, Lucien; Mrs. Viola Cathorn and Mr. Cathorn. Victims of Bertram and the men who loved them.
“Lady Gibbs!” Lady Parham called out, the first to rush forward and greet her. “How good it is to see you again. You look splendid!”
Dumbfounded, Olivia managed to embrace the woman, though she could not stop staring about her, slack-jawed.
“It is lovely to see you, as well … all of you. But, what is going on? My husband has told me nothing.”
Mr. Cathorn bowed to her with a smile. “He wanted it to be a surprise. How he managed to keep it all from you is beyond me. Well done, Mr. Gibbs.”
She glanced back to Niall, who gave her a sheepish grin. “I didnae think ye’d understand unless ye saw it for yourself.”
She huffed, furrowing her brow. “Saw what?”
Agatha took her arm and gently pulled her forward, gesturing for her to come inside. Olivia shuddered, a chill sweeping through her. A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought of stepping foot into this place. She half-expected Mother Dragon to come roaring around a corner at any moment, despite the evidence that tower and the convent looming in the distance had been abandoned. What could they be doing here?
It all became clear the moment Agatha turned her to face a wall of the vestibule. The stained glass windows overhead cast colorful prisms across the stone, a sickeningly cheerful display inside a place that held so many awful memories for her.
But then, a bronze plaque—newly affixed to the stone—caught her attention. She gasped, turning back to Niall to confirm that she’d read it right.
Giving her a smile, he nodded. “Aye,mo gradh… ye’re seein’ it right.”
Turning back to the plaque, she pressed a hand over her mouth and took a step forward. With a shaking hand, she reached out to touch it, her gloved fingers tracing the grooves of the fresh-carved letters.
GOODALL HOUSE. A HOME FOR UNWED MOTHERS AND ORPHANS.
