Page 22 of The Butterfly
True to her word, Olivia remained at his side in the days it took for him to feel strong enough to leave Adam’s bed. His friend had taken a guest chamber, but spent as much time with him and Olivia as possible, ensuring no one disturbed his rest.
When Niall emerged from the room to resume his duties, he was called into the earl’s study and informed that Conall had been let go, sent away from Dunvar.Hewas now Stablemaster.
Days later, Adam informed Niall that he’d been the one to convince the earl that Conall should be let go.
“It was the notion that your father’s drunkenness made him a liability that did the trick,” Adam had told him. “That he might get in his cups and set that temper of his on other servants couldn’t be countenanced. Besides, everyone knows you were doing his job as well as your own. Now, you’ll earn his wages, as well.”
Niall spent what remained of Olivia and Adam’s holiday with them, when his duties allowed. He took care to ensure Adam was nearby more often than not, as the few times he found himself alone with Olivia, he had the devil of a time keeping his hands to himself. Their rare moments of solitude inevitably led to more kissing, more secret caresses in hidden corners, more warnings from him that went unheeded. The girl was determined to flirt with danger, and while his da had been sent away, he remained ever aware of the earl and the consequences of being found out.
It came as both a relief and a torment when his two best friends were forced to leave him again, Adam to finish his final term and exams, Olivia to complete her own schooling. It never stood far from his mind that when she finally came back, it would only be for however long it took to prepare her to go out into the world and find a husband. Then, she would truly be lost to him forever.
CHAPTER SIX
livia tossed and turned amongst the bedclothes, the tremors wracking her body still as powerful as ever. Exhaustion weighed down her eyelids. Nevertheless, every time she felt as if she might be able to close her eyes and sleep for a bit, her body would betray her. She thought the trembling would never stop, nor the flashes of hot and cold that seized her, as well as the unbearable clatter of her teeth. Her skin itched and burned, as if venom poured out of the tiny follicles where fine hairs grew. She ached everywhere, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, from her skin to as deep as her bones. Most acute of all, the throb of her mutilated forearms resounded with every beat of her heart, reminding her of what she’d done to herself. Niall and Maeve changed her bandages as best they could while she shivered. The pull of her skin knitting itself back together rankled with a persistent itch.
From time to time, her gaze went to the washstand across the room, upon which a bottle of laudanum sat amongst clean linens and other vials. Her mouth practically watered for its taste, and despite the fact that the glass container had been corked, she could swear she smelled it, sickly-sweet and noxious. Her gut clenched and twisted as she curled into herself and closed her eyes, determined to fight the urges demanding she leave the bed and lurch to the washstand, where she might unstop that bottle and drink to her heart’s content.
Her dreams were as vivid as ever, though she now found that her waking hours had begun to untangle from them, so that she had an easier time discerning reality from the terrors of her mind. It was what kept her in bed, what gave her the strength to refuse her own self. This was what she’d wanted. Freedom from the addled intertwining of past and present, the inability to tell reality from nightmare. She could never remember the things she did during her fits of terror, but had been told that she sometimes hurt others as well as herself. Thankfully, she had not harmed her own daughter, but the fear that she might stayed her hand. It kept her from the enticing poison beckoning from across the room, offering sweet relief.
For Serena’s sake, as well as her dear brother and precious Niall, she must endure.
Thinking of the people who loved and cared for her so well, she opened her eyes once more and searched the room, realizing that one of them must be here. She was not entirely certain how long she’d been abed, suffering through withdrawal, but knew she was never left alone. Every time she opened her eyes, someone was there to soothe her, reassure her, coax her into drinking broth and tea.
This time, it was Adam she found at her bedside, his face drawn into an expression of worry. Noticing that she was awake, he rose and approached the bed, sinking onto its edge. She reached for him, grasping his shirt in her fist and holding on for dear life. From the day her mother had died, Adam had been her strength, the person she could always look to for reassurance and even guidance at times. Not a perfect man by any means, he had been the first to love her—or rather, the first she could remember loving her, as she’d been a babe still at her mother’s breast when her father had died. No matter his faults, there was nothing he would not do for her. In her lucid moments, she suffered no end of guilt over not being able to reciprocate.
She sighed with relief when he began mopping at her sweat-soaked face with a cool, damp cloth.
“Shh … I’ve got you, butterfly. It’s all right.”
Butterfly. A pet name he had given her when they’d been children, due to her skill at the harp. She’d played masterfully, even from a young age, and the way her hands moved over the strings had earned her the name. Her heart lurched at the reminder of how long it had been since she’d touched an instrument. Also adequate at the violin and piano, her life had always been filled with music. Art had been another passion of hers—particularly drawing with charcoal. Those pastimes felt so far removed from her, like the practices of some other girl … someone she no longer knew.
A violent shudder ripped through her, but Adam never let her go, still gently cleansing her face. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she felt the darkness crowding in on her, her cravings making her head pound. She needed something, a distraction, anything to keep her thoughts away from laudanum’s call.
“T-talk to me,” she urged.
“About what?” he replied, his scowl making her want to laugh.
Adam had never been one for unnecessary conversation. He’d much rather sit about and brood over whatever had him in a dudgeon at any given moment.
“A-anything,” she managed between clatters of her teeth. “D-distract m-me.”
He looked away, his gaze focused somewhere across the room. Something was on his mind and it had nothing to do with her—she could see it. They knew each other well, and so Olivia realized before he even spoke that he’d already decided to lay whatever it was at her feet.
“Very well,” he said. “Serena seems to like it here. She has been having a wonderful time exploring the house with Daphne. So, you do not need to worry about her lingering outside your door.”
Ah, so this was all about Lady Daphne Fairchild. He would not have mentioned her name if she were of no consequence.
“D-Daphne?” she said, hoping to pry for more information. “B-Bertram’s sister?”
In her more lucid moments back at Dunnottar, she had heard snatches of conversation regarding her brother’s vendetta against the family of the man who had ruined her. Lady Daphne had simply been a part of Adam’s plan—making her his plaything and publicly flaunting the fact being the final blow. However, weeks had passed since then. There were so many things she did not know about what had gone on during Lady Daphne’s time in Scotland.
The look he gave her in response would have made her burst out laughing if she could manage it. As it was, she could barely talk through her chattering teeth. It never failed that those who knew of her malady of the mind tended to forget she had not become a dimwit. Just because she often forgot where she was or who stood before her, or had fits of madness, did not mean she’d become a simpleton who was blind, deaf, or dumb.
She issued a sarcastic snort and nudged him with her elbow. “Sh-she looks j-just like S-Serena … It w-wasn’t h-hard to w-work out.”
He sighed. “Forgive me, butterfly. I did not think you’d understand. Daphne … she came to Dunnottar seeking answers, and I exploited her to retaliate against Bertram. To repay him for what he did to you.”
She closed her eyes again, this time trying to keep the pain his revelation caused out of her eyes. It would hurt him to see that she did not approve of his actions one bit. It had been one thing to hear about it; it was quite another to have him admit to her, out loud, that he’d purposely set out to ruin an innocent woman because of what had been done to her. However, her hazy recollection of those first days after her return from the asylum made it easy to understand his motives. He’d done what he thought was right to even the score, and after all the pain and loss he had suffered, it made sense for him to react the way he had to losing a part of her.
