Page 56 of The Butterfly
“Yes. Adam and Niall would never countenance you and Serena being exposed, and neither would I. The purpose of my coming to you was not to ask you to testify. I simply wanted you to know what Niall and I are up to … what we intend to do.”
Olivia mulled that over for a moment, her gaze wandering out over the small garden. For all its beauty, she hardly registered any of it now, the foliage and flowers blurring into a mottled haze, through which she could only see the horrors of her past. What sort of coward was she, that she could not risk exposing herself in order to bring down her tormentor? How broken was she if she could not even speak of the things she had endured?
“I’d like to help, if I can,” she said slowly, thinking upon each word as if fell from her lips. “I understand the wisdom in keeping my own ordeal private. Serena is the most innocent of us all in this mess, and protecting her will always be the most important thing in the world to me. But, I might help you convince these women. Maybe, if they could see that they aren’t alone … if I told them what he did to me …”
Daphne was holding her hand again, squeezing it, seeking out her gaze with a heavy measure of concern in her own eyes.
“You are not obligated to do that. After all you’ve endured, you have earned the right to your peace and privacy, Olivia.”
She could be right; but, Olivia could not have stopped the outpouring of her soul in that moment. She had gone so long without speaking of it, confronting it. It was now more important than ever for her to step out of the shadows, if for no other reason than some other woman might be saved because she’d finally stopped being so afraid to face her demon.
“I’ve never really spoken of it, you know. When I returned to Scotland with Serena in my arms, I could hardly express myself in words. I managed to say enough for Adam and Niall to grasp what had been done, and my brother’s own investigation helped him puzzle out the rest. But, I have never actually told anyone what happened, how it happened, and I … I think that perhaps it is time that I did.”
Daphne went stiff on the bench beside her, back erect, hand clenched around hers, jaw tight as she anticipated Olivia’s story. It occurred to her that it might be difficult for the other woman to hear this, knowing her brother proved the villain of the tale. But she seemed to be made of sterner stuff than others might give her credit for.
“As you may know, I met your brother at Almack’s. It sickens me to remember how utterly he disarmed me our very first meeting. I was heartbroken over Niall at the time, missing him terribly each day that I spent away from him. I sought a distraction, something—or rathersomeone—to make me forget him. Bertram did that quite effectively for a time.”
She told Daphne of the broken string of her reticule and how chivalrous Bertram had seemed when returning it to her.
“In hindsight, I’ve wondered if he cut it somehow, in some sort of ruse so that he might play the hero returning my property. It endeared me to him, I must admit … so much so that I flirted more boldly than I might have otherwise. He signed my card for a dance, during which he charmed me so thoroughly, I thought myself half in love with him by the end of it. Ridiculous, I know.”
“He is good at that. Getting people to love him, I mean. I know that his tricks worked well enough upon me. My devotion to him was absolute … until I learned the truth.”
“I will admit, it is good to hear that I was not the only one fooled by him. For so long, I blamed myself for being foolish, for letting my grief over Niall drive me to do things I might not have done.”
“You mustn’t think of it that way. He might have gotten to you regardless.”
“Yes, I can see that now. The morning after Almack’s, he sent flowers to the townhome of my cousin and his wife, where I resided for the Season. There was a note, as well, with a beautiful bit of poetry scrawled upon it in his hand. Things progressed swiftly from there, and I found myself caught up in the romanticism of courtship. He took me riding, lavished me with compliments, gifts, small affections. Always the gentleman, he never made me feel threatened. When we managed to steal a private moment for a kiss, he never did anything more than I wanted and always stopped when I asked him to. He made me feel desired, and … I truly thought he might be the one. He spoke of marriage often, of his need for a future countess and heir. I told myself that I was ridiculous to have fallen for him—after all, London was filled with lovely debutantes, many of whom clamored for his attentions. However, he even found ways to squash those notions, to make me feel as if I were special to him. During our brief courtship, his head was never turned, his attentions focused solely upon me. Oh, he was polite to the other ladies, of course, but I was the only one he took riding or walking, I was the only one he danced with twice in one night, I was the only one …”
She paused for a moment, swallowing past the anxiety rising up as she went deeper into her tale. It was not so hard to speak of the beginning and the ways Bertram had tricked her into thinking herself in love with him. But now, she must tell the most abhorrent part of it all. The part that had irrevocably changed her life.
“I allowed him liberties I probably should not have. A hand on my breast, my thigh, under my skirts. It was thrilling, wanting him and being wanted, thinking that perhaps, it might be all right to be with him inthatway if our courtship were to end in a proposal. The only other man who’d ever given me such single-minded focus had been Niall, and I could not have him. We could never marry or have children, or … well, Bertram was my only chance, I thought. I could be happy with him; I could love him. I allowed him to get me alone often, reveling in our secretive encounters while confident that he would always stop when I asked him to. Even if he tried to convince me to give him more, even if he grew a bit frustrated when I demurred, healwaysstopped. Until the one night when he did not.”
Daphne’s hand tightened around hers, and Olivia squeezed it back. She felt as if she might fall apart, sinking to the ground in a sobbing heap if not for the strength of that hand.
“I’ll never forget the day … the twenty-fifth of March. The night of the Duke and Duchess of Lorham’s spring ball. They host the affair outdoors, in their massive garden—it is quite larger than any other in Mayfair, they say. Bertram and I began the night as we usually did, meeting when he appeared with a glass of champagne, filled with compliments for my attire. While signing for two dances on my card, he whispered to me that he had missed me. We had not seen one another all week, and he wanted a moment alone. God, how thrilled I was at the idea of sneaking off to be with him. I counted the minutes until the hour struck eleven. We’d agreed to slip inside, seeking privacy while everyone else remained outdoors. Through the entire evening, he watched me from across the room, as if he, too, could not wait.
“At last, eleven of the clock came, and I practically ran through the doors of the veranda into the ballroom. He was there waiting for me, insisting that he knew the perfect place. We would not be disturbed. I went with him, of course. He had fully gained my trust by then, and I had no reason to fear him. He took me through a series of corridors, as if he knew where he was going. I supposed he had been to enough soirées in the duke’s home to know his way around. He pulled me into a drawing room and shut the door, taking me into his arms. Things began as they always did between us. All these years, I have thought back to the moment often enough to realize that everything was literally just fine up until the moment it was not. He worked me into a fervor, trying as always to press me past our usual stopping point, whispering in my ear how beautiful I was, how badly he wanted me, how good a life we would have together once we were wed. I insisted we should wait … at least announce a betrothal and have the banns called before we did something reckless. I wanted the security of an impending wedding, the knowledge that I would end the Season with him as my husband. He insisted it would be so, that he would give me anything … but he could not wait to have me, it had to be now. Even then, I did not grow alarmed, simply crying off as I had before. He had me on a sofa, laid back upon one of its arms. I sat up and tried to push him from on top of me. ‘The hour grows late’, I insisted. ‘We must go back to the garden before we are missed.’”
The tears she’d been holding back had begun to burn, too filled with her pain to be held in for another moment. She blinked, letting the first wave of them trickle down her face, her chin trembling as she sucked in a deep, slow breath.
You can do this … youmustget through this, or you will never be free of it.
“Bertram did not budge, and for the first time, I noticed how heavy he felt, how much larger and stronger than me he was. Even still, I was not afraid. I simply thought him overcome by passion, refusing to let me go, still trying to coerce me into letting him take me. ‘You’re only scared,’ he told me. ‘I understand that your innocence might make this daunting. But I will make it good for you, love, I promise. I need you, Livvie … just a taste, love.’ I squirmed beneath him, trying to twist and writhe my way free. ‘Bertram, please,’ I begged. ‘We must not do this … it isn’t right.’
“In truth, this part of it had never felt right … the moment where I must decide whether to give him what he wanted. I suppose I still loved Niall so much more than I did Bertram, and a part of me … the foolish girl who still thought she could run off and marry the Stablemaster could not betray him that way. It was a part of myself I’d always wanted to give to Niall. But, Bertram became frantic, wrestling with me, trying to grasp my wrists and pin my legs so I could not escape him. All the while, he kept crooning to me as if trying to calm a skittish mare, murmuring to me that I was only frightened, and I would come to see there was nothing to be afraid of. I wanted this, didn’t I? I’d let him go so far because deep down, a part of me must want it. And by now, I am certain you are thinking that here is where fear must have come into the picture. Surely, by now, I should have worried for my virtue, perhaps even my life. But, I am ashamed to admit that I still trusted him, still believed that all I need do was convince him that I truly wanted to stop—get him to see that I did not mean to lead him on, but I simply was not ready. The truth of the matter is, I did not see past my unwavering trust in him until the moment he slapped me.”
Daphne sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as if she had been struck herself. “I am so sorry. I-I knew what he had done, it is just … I had not thought …”
“That it was violent? It is interesting, isn’t it, the way we women are conditioned. I do not know about you, but when I was taught to guard my virtue, it was always to be against flowery words or seduction. It wasn’t … I had never been taught that ruination could be so painfully brutal.”
“No,” Daphne murmured, lowering her eyes. “I suppose I never imagined it, either. I have never seen a man of my acquaintance strike a woman. It seems so … unconscionable.”
“It is … itwas.And he did it without an ounce of hesitation or regret … slapped me across the face so hard, I saw stars and my eyes watered. I felt as if the entire left side of my face went up in flames. It stunned me still and silent, the shock of it overwhelming all my reflexes for a moment. In a way, I knew I must fight, that this would not end just because I said no. I became aware of the need to fight, to run away from him, and get into the view of others to save myself. But, I cannot describe to you the sense of betrayal and shock that washed over me just then. As I stared up at him, it was as if I were seeing him for the first time—thetrueBertram. Like a mask had fallen away, and I was staring into the eyes of … of a demon.”
Her heart had begun to pound, her gut roiling, and Olivia felt as if she’d gone right back to that drawing room—could even feel the crushing weight of Bertram on top of her, the sickening bite of his knees digging into her thighs to pin her down, the sting of her struck cheek. If she closed her eyes, she might even see his face, so she fought against the urge, blinking to allow more tears to fall and staring out at the garden.
“He grasped me by my jaw, his hold unrelenting as he forced me to look at him. ‘There’s nothing I hate more than a cocktease’, he said, his voice taking on this grating quality I’d never before heard. It sounded as if he truly did hate me. Then, he went on hurling insults at me while pulling at my skirts, lifting them up. ‘Fighting me will only make this harder than it has to be. You’ve been practically begging for it since the night we met.’ ‘No’, I said. ‘That is not true. Please, Bertram … stop’. I was terrified witless by then, realizing that I had no choice but to physically fight him. Even as hopeless as that was, I gave it everything I had. When he shifted his weight to free me from the tangle of my petticoats, I drove a knee straight up between his legs. He rolled off me, falling onto the floor. I shook off the daze that had fallen over me and stood, running across the room with no other thought than getting out of it. But, he recovered far faster than I anticipated, overcoming me before I could get to the door. He grabbed my hair and yanked me back. His grip was so tight, I could swear a few strands pulled free of my scalp when he swung me around and threw me onto the carpet. I tried to crawl away from him, but he was on me within seconds, pinning me on my belly. He … he kept one hand twisted in my hair to keep me still so he could get my skirts up. When I tried to kick and squirm free, he pulled my head up, then slammed it against the floor.”
