Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (30 page)

Perhaps it was
about to yield another hidden secret. One much more important.

CHAPTER TWENTY

HER BONES
ACHED. Ached from the cold which seeped through her body despite
the three blankets Nathaniel had brought and from the hard, cold
stone of her bed: Lucien’s sarcophagus. She’d have chosen any other
except that his was closest to the light. After so many long hours,
including the endless night, she craved daylight.

Her teeth
chattered as she rubbed her hands together, trying to find rest and
comfort beneath the insubstantial layers of warmth.

Dear God,
Nathaniel would surely not leave the country with no clue as to her
whereabouts? He couldn’t hate her enough to let her die.

No … She
shivered even more.

His revenge
would be to orchestrate how she would be judged based on his lies
and twisted truths.

Staring up at
the ceiling she imagined all England gasping over her damning
confession. Nathaniel had had it delivered to the printing press
the night before.

Stiffly,
she sat up and stared around the dim chamber
. Her back ached;
her stupidity mocked her. Nathaniel had orchestrated her fate since
he had cast eyes on her eight years before.

What chance
had she of convincing Max she spoke the truth, even if he did come
for her?

The afternoon
was closing in on her. Sobs rose up in her throat. Another night
alone? How could she bear it?

She froze at
the sound of a carriage. The slam of a door. Every sense moved to
high alert, relief and desperation making her lightheaded as she
swung her feet to the ground.

‘Help me!’ she
screamed, the echo of her thin slippers resounding through the
chamber as she ran across the flagstones and pushed her face
against the bars. ‘I’m here! In the crypt!’

The sound of
purposeful footsteps followed the gravel path that curved beside
the high grassy knoll. Her rescuer was out of sight but surely he
could hear her?

‘Help me!’ she
cried again, so hard her lungs hurt, while she rattled the
bars.

She saw the
black hat before the rest of him came into view. The black coat and
breeches and, as he raised his head to look at her, the smug,
smiling, satisfied countenance of Nathaniel.

Terrified, she
leapt back.

‘I was worried
about you, Olivia.’ His voice was soothing as he unlocked the
door.

Horrified she
saw his smile of satisfaction, heard the whine of rusty hinges as
he closed the door behind him, stepping into the crypt.

‘I left clues
enough for Mr Atherton to have found you by now, Olivia, but
perhaps he thinks you haven’t yet learned your lesson and no longer
cares.’

‘Get away from
me!’ she shrieked, backing towards the far wall of the chamber.

Putting his
head on one side, he studied her from near the entrance, his heavy
body thrown into relief by the fading sun behind him.

‘But
I
care, Olivia.’ He advanced slowly, his voice heavy with intent as
he murmured, ‘That’s why I came back.’

With her heart
in her mouth, like a mouse staring into the jaws of a serpent,
Olivia watched his approach. She was his prey, just as she’d always
been.

‘You left no
clues, did you?’ she whispered. ‘You never intended Max to find
me.’ Tears trickled down her cheeks. She was the reverend’s puppet,
just as she’d always been.

He halted a
foot away, close enough for her to see the parody of concern that
twisted his features.

‘Tears of
joy?’ His hand reached out, a finger extended to taste the salty
evidence of her terror, her submission, before …

Before what?
Before he led her to Lucien’s sarcophagus to dominate and possess
her?

‘You bitch!’
With a shriek of pain Nathaniel whipped back his hand, choking on
another expletive as he sucked the damaged member.

‘You’d bite
the hand that feeds you? Where’s your gratitude?’

He lunged at
her, cursing as she slipped out of reach to hurl herself against
the grating.

‘Help me!’ she
shrieked, rattling the bars, cringing as his large meaty hands
snatched her elbows, screaming as he pulled her into him.

‘What do you
want, Nathaniel?’ she screamed, struggling. ‘You have the gold.
You’ve achieved my complete subjugation. You have damned me in the
eyes of the world. Is that not enough?’

Gripping her
chin roughly, he forced her face up as his other hand seized her
round the middle.

‘I want
you
! I want you to understand how much you need me!’ he
muttered, shoving his angry face close to hers as she convulsed
with disgust.

She twisted
her head out of his grip, clawing at his arms and face with
flailing hands, stumbling free only to fall upon the sarcophagi,
her body exhaling on one violent gasp as the air was forced from
her lungs.

‘Just say it
and you shall be free!’ he screamed. ‘The gold is in the carriage.
Just say that you want me, Olivia, and together we shall enjoy
riches greater than in our wildest dreams!’

‘Never!’ Her
voice broke on a sob. Her spirit was nearly broken, too, but she
had to resist with all her might, or her mind would splinter into a
million shards.

Then how could
she be a mother to Julian?

Once again his
large body filled her vision.

Eyes wide with
horror, senses screaming with revulsion, breath and vitality
returned in time for her to thrust herself off the coffin and on to
the floor.

Immediately
she was upon her feet, but her slippers caught in the lavish
trimmings of her hem, tripping her up so that she was flung
forwards, arms upthrust to break the force of her fall as the
flagstones rose to meet her.

Nathaniel was
upon her before she could rise. Knees pinned against her sides, one
hand forcing her face down upon the floor, he grasped her wrists
behind her back and jerked her body upwards. She shrieked with
pain, tears blinding her as he rolled her over then scooped her up,
before dumping her unceremoniously upon Lucien’s sarcophagus.

Like a fly
paralysed by the venom of a wasp, she felt his hands upon her
collarbones, sweeping across the exposed skin to cup her now bared
shoulders.

She could
smell his excitement: the oil from his hair combining with the
familiar smell of animal lust and the arousal of power.

‘I have your
son!’ Pushing his thumbs beneath the lining of her bodice he
gripped the fabric and ripped, his eyes feasting greedily upon the
sight of exposed flesh above her stays. ‘You are in my power.’

‘Foul
murderer!’ she screamed, twisting uselessly beneath him.

‘Damn you to
the ends of the earth!’ She struck out at him with her right hand,
but he caught it, pinioning both her wrists to the lid of the
sarcophagus while his body came down to crush hers.

The fingers of
his other hand dug into her shoulders painfully. ‘Take what I’m
offering you!’ he shouted, as he pushed his face into hers. ‘My
love and the gold! Do you
want
me to take you by force?’

‘Let me go!’
she wept, twisting her head away. ‘It’s Max’s gold!’

Wincing at the
pressure of his grip she sobbed, ‘You damned me in the eyes of the
world, but you will never get your final satisfaction for I love
Max!’

His violence
filled her with defiance. She would not give him the satisfaction
of her submission yet again. ‘I hate you, Nathaniel! You are cruel
and evil and your power comes from threats!’

He laughed at
her struggles, his lip curling as she spat out the words, ‘Max is a
thousand times the man you are and I will always love him for he is
good and kind and he believes the best of people—’

Nathaniel drew
in a venomous breath. She could feel the heavy beat of his heart
and the oppressive thrust of his desire for her through her gown;
the ultimate expression of his domination.

‘He doesn’t
believe the best of you now, my love!’

She felt his
hand fumbling beneath her skirts, his hot, foetid breath upon her
neck as he panted above her.

Shrieking, she
freed one hand and tried to push him away but he was too strong for
her and his voice was triumphant as he delivered his verdict. ‘The
sight of you … the mere mention of your name—’

‘Inspires me
with love, respect and deep remorse! Get off her, God damn you,
Kirkman!’

Sobbing,
Olivia wriggled out from beneath her oppressor whose sweaty labours
had been arrested by his shock.

‘Oh, Max!’
Tripping upon her torn skirts she fell to her knees as she tried
desperately to reach him on the other side of the iron door.

Max had come
for her.

Not only to
rescue her from danger but to take her away … with
him
.
Surely that was what his impassioned tone implied for his face had
been in shadow and now she was on hands and knees like a cornered
animal.

‘She led me to
the gold, Atherton!’ Nathaniel crowed triumphantly as he whisked
her up from the ground, her arms and legs flailing as uselessly as
a cloth doll’s.

‘More lies,
Reverend?’ Max’s tone was strained as he worked the key in the
lock. ‘I know the truth.’

The truth. She
tried to wriggle free but Nathaniel was too strong. Struggling to
breathe, unable to move, she wondered how she was painted in the
version of the truth Max claimed to know and if that was why he
didn’t close the distance between them now he’d gained access to
the crypt.

Her answer
came as she felt the cold press of steel against her breast; looked
down to see the small silver barrel of a pistol digging into her
flesh below where her bodice gaped open.

‘No!’ she
gasped. Swallowing down her terror she strained towards Max,
wishing she could see the look on his face, to be reassured by the
concern for her wellbeing endorsing the tension in his voice.

Had he come to
rescue her
despite
what he believed? Or did his love for her
transcend lies and half truths?

‘I shall kill
her!’

She forced
herself not to react. Fear motivated Nathaniel. It shored up his
power; his belief in his invincibility.

‘I wanted her
since Lucien made her his,’ Nathaniel snarled. ‘For eight years I
have worked towards this moment. I shall not let her go so easily.’
He gave a humourless laugh. ‘If I can’t have her, you certainly
shan’t!’

Max did not
move. ‘You’re vanquished, Reverend, and you know it.’ His voice
carried across the three yards that separated them, a low and
controlled murmur. ‘Drop the pistol and let her go.’

Nathaniel’s
left arm squeezed her tighter; the other pressed the pistol harder
into her flesh just below her breast. Her neck was clammy from his
foul, hot breath. She could smell his desperation and knew he would
never relinquish her willingly.

‘Right through
the heart, Atherton. Or should I say, “my lord”?’ Nathaniel
sneered. ‘You have me to thank for that! Where is your
gratitude?’

‘It is my
birth-right.’

Olivia trained
her gaze on Max’s beloved face. Anything to block out the fear
engendered by the barrel of the pistol which stabbed into her.

The tone of
his voice continued to reassure her. ‘Olivia tried to tell me that
a long time ago, but I was too obtuse to understand her.’

A ray of
sunshine burned through the heavy cloud and slanted across Max’s
face, revealing the love for her that kindled in his eyes. He was
speaking from the heart; here to save her and exonerate her in the
process. Her fear of Nathaniel dissipated, despite the noxious
smell of him that burned her nostrils and the painful, threatening
hold he had upon her.

Not ten feet
away Max represented her salvation. His expression confirmed her
greatest longing: that in his arms she would bask in the loving
warmth of his embrace, revel in the urgency of his kisses and glory
in the knowledge that he was her future.

But Nathaniel
held the upper hand and he was unpredictable.

‘She
considered her son more important than either you or the truth!’
Nathaniel spat.

Max raised one
eyebrow but said nothing.

‘Max, I wrote
to tell you …’ she said, brokenly. How wicked, how venal the truth
sounded when distilled. How calculating it made her when presented
in its essence.

‘Hush,
sweetheart,’ he soothed with a smile for her. ‘I’ve no doubt that
man intercepted it.’ He took a step forward. ‘Despite your lies,
Reverend, and the lies you forced Olivia to publish to the world, I
know what kind of woman Olivia is—’

‘The kind who
will dance naked on the table, who will let the men line up to lick
the cream from her!’ Edgily, Nathaniel pressed the barrel of the
pistol harder into Olivia’s flesh. ‘Tell me, Mr Atherton, have you
ever kissed Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly?’

With a cry of
shame, Olivia brought her hands up to her face.

‘I look
forward to doing so when it is not a sin,’ said Max with a wry
smile. ‘I daresay you have not, either, Reverend.’

‘Do you
want
me to kill her?’ Kirkman screamed, pushing her so hard
that her upper body snapped back over his supporting arm. ‘Are you
so arrogant you believe you can arrive like an avenging hero and
everything will go your way?’

Ignoring him,
Max’s voice continued, low and mesmeric. ‘At every opportunity you
prevented Olivia from telling me the truth when she was desperate
to unburden herself.’

Nathaniel
laughed. ‘The truth? You don’t know what to believe! That’s your
eternal problem. Look at her!’ Roughly he gripped Olivia’s chin and
turned her face upwards. ‘Beneath this perfection lies a heart and
soul more corrupted than mine! Olivia and I are soulmates,
Atherton. I will
never
give her up!’