Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (28 page)

‘Charlotte!’
Eunice Dingley rushed forward, as the girl’s legs buckled. With
Max’s help they supported her to the sofa before Max went in
pursuit of some reviving brandy, the obvious question hovering in
the air.

After the girl
had spluttered on the amber liquid, he could contain himself no
longer. ‘What happened? We thought you were with Miss Olivia,’ he
asked, bending over her, burning for answers and chafing at the
need for patience for the girl was hysterical.

He poured her
another tumbler of brandy and after she’d choked it down she
calmed, collapsing against the back of the sofa with her eyes
closed.

‘I was taking
Julian for a walk yesterday morning when the reverend stopped and
told us to get into his carriage as the mistress were asking for
us.’ Her voice quavered. ‘We drove a short while to an inn just out
of the town. He told me to wait in the carriage and he took Julian
inside.’

Gripping the
arm of the sofa Max found it difficult to curb his impatience.
‘What about Olivia?’ The litany of fear kept repeating itself, over
and over, in his mind. If Julian had been taken hostage, Olivia
must be in grave danger.

Miss Dingley
grasped his arm and drew him back. ‘You’ll frighten the girl, Max,’
she warned. ‘Let her tell her story.’

Supporting
himself against the mantelpiece Max tried to quell the ferment in
his heart and mind.

Dear God, what
had he done? Where was Olivia and what danger was she in?

Charlotte
sniffed before resuming in a querulous voice. ‘One of the inn
servants brought Julian back to the carriage. She didn’t tell us
nothing though I heard her talk to the coachman about a grand lady
inside. Then the coachman just whipped up the horses and drove us
what seemed like hours to a village I’d never seen.’ She wiped her
nose on her apron and hunched forward.

‘Go on,
Charlotte,’ Miss Dingley prompted.

‘When we
stopped I asked the coachman where we were and where Miss Olivia
was, but he ignored me. Then a man came out and took us inside his
house though it were a hovel, really. He started to speak nice, but
as soon as we were upstairs and in a room where he said we could
rest, he snarled at us that we were his prisoners now and we better
behave ourselves else great harm would befall us and our mistress.
Then he locked the door.’ Charlotte’s small bedraggled form shook
with sobs. ‘I don’t know where Miss Olivia is!’ she wailed.

‘When I took
Julian to the privy we were alone after the man went inside, so I
grabbed Julian and ran. There were a passing cart and we jumped in
the back.’ She turned to Max, her face reflecting the same
hopefulness as Miss Dingley’s that he would be the architect of
Olivia’s salvation. ‘You’ll find her, won’t you, Mr Atherton?’

Still gripping
the gold coins, Max muttered, ‘If it’s the last thing I do,
Charlotte.’ Never had he felt so called to action. He raked his
hand through his hair. ‘I’ll bring The Reverend Kirkman to justice,
too and when I’ve finished
he
will be the one facing the
opprobrium of the world.’

He just wished
he knew where to start. A double measure of the brandy which had
revived Charlotte didn’t seem such a bad idea.

As he paced,
he turned the possibilities over in his mind. ‘Why would Mr Kirkman
do this?’

‘Revenge, Mr
Atherton!’ cried Aunt Catherine in her first burst of anger.
‘Olivia wouldn’t marry him so he made her write a false confession
and kidnapped her son.’

Miss Dingley
added in a menacing undertone, ‘He wanted to destroy what was left
of her reputation and take away that which meant the most to
her.’

Still puzzling
over events in an undertone, Max shook his head as he muttered,
‘Why would he kidnap his own son?’

The aunts
gasped, their outrage competing for an audience.

Miss Dingley’s
eyes blazed as she leapt to her feet. ‘Is that what you inferred
from Olivia’s confession?’

‘How could you
believe Olivia would betray her own husband?’ cried Aunt Catherine,
also rising.

‘What
confession, please, ma’am?’ Charlotte’s voice came out a strangled
thread, but with enough intensity to cut through the mayhem.

Forcing
himself to remain calm, Max said tightly, ‘Today’s newspaper
reported that Lady Farquhar confessed that Julian is the result of
adultery and not Lord Farquhar’s rightful heir.’

‘Oh, Lordy!’
Charlotte clasped her hands to her bosom and the colour leeched
from her face. She looked close to tears. ‘He finally used it
against her.’ Her whisper was not directed at the others.

She jerked
with surprise when Max snapped, ‘What do you mean?’ Immediately he
felt ashamed of himself. Charlotte’s lip trembled and she exhaled
on a sob. ‘I can’t tell you.’

Max covered
the distance between the mantelpiece and the arm of the settee in
less than a heartbeat. ‘Charlotte!’ He gripped her arm as he
crouched before her. ‘Tell us what you know about Julian and your
mistress!’

The girl
buried her face in her apron, pulling her arm free of his grip,
shaking her head. ‘I swore I’d never speak of a word of it and I
never have. I never will!’

‘Charlotte,
please, you don’t know how important this is!’ He tried to sound
soothing but heard the croak of desperation in his own voice.

‘For Miss
Olivia’s sake, you must tell us. What secret did you promise your
mistress you’d always keep?’

‘It weren’t a
promise to Miss Olivia ’cos Martha and I never knew if she knew
that we knew her secret.’

Max shook his
head at this convoluted logic and tried again. ‘What secret? And
who is Martha?’ Exasperation threatened to get the better of
him.

Charlotte
rubbed her swollen eyes. ‘Martha were Miss Olivia’s lady’s maid
before she married the publican of The Pelican and became Mrs
Mifflin.’ Her expression remained mutinous as she added, ‘We
promised each other we’d never say a word to
anyone
.’

Max rose and
went to the fireplace, kicking a log that threatened to dislodge
itself. Turning, he told Charlotte, ‘Lady Farquhar confessed her
adultery in this morning’s new sheet. Everyone now knows Julian is
not her late husband’s legitimate heir. There is no point in
keeping your secret any longer, Charlotte.’

The apron
dropped. The girl’s white face appeared above it like a frightened
rabbit’s just as Amelia bustled into the room, adding her
contribution, ‘Yes, Charlotte! Lady Farquhar’s sins were made
public this morning—’

She stopped
short and looked uncomfortable when she saw Olivia’s aunts to whom
she’d been introduced so recently at Lady Glenton’s, before
exclaiming, ‘Good gracious, Charlotte! What have you been
doing?’

‘Charlotte has
come through quite an ordeal, Amelia.’ Max spoke crisply. ‘Please!
It would be better if you left us alone.’

‘No!’

Max turned
back to Charlotte. ‘If you wish her to stay then—’

‘That’s not
the truth!’ The girl started to her feet, her hands cupping her
cheeks. ‘Why would Miss Olivia say such a terrible thing when
Julian is Lord Farquhar’s son what she’s brought up as her own? Her
own husband’s child what she’s fought for so hard. It don’t make
sense!’ The log in he fireplace thudded from the grate with a hiss;
the only sound in the confused silence. Max ignored it,
concentrating on Charlotte’s horrified expression.

There was no
suggestion of play acting. Shock, outrage and confusion were etched
into every soft, dirty feature.

Miss
Catherine’s quailed, ‘I don’t understand. If Julian is Lucien’s son
there is no secret, no sin—’

Her sister
added her objection. ‘I told you from the outset, this confession
is a lie which Olivia’s been forced to fabricate by Reverend
Kirkman.’ A flash of inspiration crossed her face. ‘It would only
be a secret if Julian were not Lucien’s
legitimate
son.’
Turning, she addressed Charlotte, ‘This is no time for keeping
confidences, however honourable your intentions, Charlotte. Only
the truth will help us find Olivia.’

He heard
Charlotte’s quavering voice while he cursed himself for the
arrogant fool he was. Gripping the mantelpiece he forced himself to
remain calm. Charlotte was about to reveal the truth which had torn
his beloved Olivia asunder. A truth which, he suspected, would turn
his – and the world’s – harsh judgement of her on its head.

‘I were with
my mistress the night the babe was born,’ Charlotte began in a soft
voice. ‘I were to be the child’s nursemaid, Miss Olivia said. My
reward as I’d been with her since I first went into service.’

‘Yes, yes! But
what happened that night?’ Miss Dingley asked impatiently. ‘Where
was Lord Farquhar?’

Surprisingly,
Amelia intervened as the voice of restraint. ‘With due respect,
Miss Dingley, I think the girl needs to tell her story in her own
words.’

Max cast his
sister a grateful look as he took the fire irons and crouched to
tend the fire, listening as Charlotte went on.

‘Lord Farquhar
had never been good to my lady and she’d lost so many babes. Her
first went full term but died within the hour and he beat her for
it.’

Miss Catherine
let out a wail of distress. Turning, Max caught the dismay in his
sister’s eyes. He knew the story of Olivia’s sorry treatment at the
hands of her husband. It did not help hearing these abuses
reinforced by Charlotte, but it might not be too bad a thing for
Amelia to hear the truth.

‘Miss Olivia
was happy Lord Farquhar was on a hunting trip because she was
afraid of what would happen if she gave birth to a girl, or if the
babe died.’ Charlotte blushed. ‘Lord Farquhar was determined to
have an heir. My mistress told it to me a hundred times the week
before the babe was born. She were terrified something would go
wrong.’

‘And something
did?’ Amelia shook her head as she put her hand on the back of the
sofa and looked at Max. ‘I’ve heard such terrible things about our
cousin—’

‘Your
sympathies didn’t exactly extend towards his wife,’ Max responded
drily.

‘She was the
season’s most outrageous debutante. They eloped, Max!’

‘She was
seventeen, Amelia! A child! Lucien was a dashing rake! Perhaps
you’ve forgotten how smitten you were with Lord Sylvester when you
were an impressionable debutante. If he’d crooked his little
finger—’

‘With due
respect,’ Miss Dingley cut in, as Amelia, embarrassed and outraged,
turned away, and Max, ashamed, ceased his defence of Olivia at the
expense of his sister.

‘What happened
to the child, Charlotte?’ asked Aunt Catherine.

‘The baby to
which Miss Olivia gave birth?’

Charlotte
smiled, dreamily. ‘It were such a beautiful little thing. Perfectly
formed with dark hair and eyes nearly black, just like his father.
And it seemed so healthy. Miss Olivia were entranced.’

‘But it died?’
Max could barely contain himself, now, despite his earlier
deviation. Here was the crux of Olivia’s great secret upon which
she would be condemned or otherwise. ‘And where was Miss Olivia’s
physician during all this?’

‘Attending a
breech birth an hour away.’

‘You delivered
Miss Olivia’s child, yourself?’

‘Mrs
Flannigan, the village midwife came. We sent one of the stable boys
to fetch her but she were already overcome with spirits by the time
she got here and soon sleeping in a corner so Martha and me did it.
Martha had delivered her mother’s last six so she knew what to do
and I just followed orders.’

‘When did the
baby die?’ Max asked.

Charlotte
sniffed and wiped her nose with the corner of her apron.

‘Within the
hour. Martha and me were bawling our eyes out. The mistress were in
shock. She kept saying, “My beautiful baby’s dead. Another one gone
to Heaven”. She kept saying over and over, “He
has
gone to
Heaven, Martha! He
has
!” ’ Charlotte choked on the words,
adding in a whisper, ‘Then she said, “Lucien will tell me it’s not
true. He’ll say if the baby was not baptized it’ll be writhing in
the flames of Hell and that it’s my fault. Martha! Charlotte! One
of you must fetch Reverend Kirkman to baptize him. We must beg him
not to tell Lucien the baby died before he came”.’

She took a
shaking breath. ‘Mr Kirkman arrived later the same night bringing
with him another baby boy. It were Meg Dorling’s from the village,
’is lordship’s mistress who’d died birthing the babe. Everyone
thinks her babe died as well, ’cept for the reverend, Martha and
myself – and Miss Olivia, o’ course – who only did what any good
wife and mam would a’ done – looking after the little one like her
own.’

He brought his
head round at his sister’s gasp.

Dear God,
Julian
was
Lucien’s illegitimate son
.

A weight like
an iron bar rested across Max’s shoulders. Why had he never
considered this? Olivia had intimated Julian was illegitimate. Not
for one moment had he imagined the boy was not
her
natural
child. He had drawn the only conclusion that seemed to offer itself
in view of her insistence upon marrying Kirkman.

Charlotte
looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘The reverend was Lord
Farquhar’s confessor and his lordship paid him well for telling
tales on my mistress.’ Her lip curled. ‘Although he kept Miss
Olivia’s secret I knew he would one day use it to his advantage. I
knew I should never have trusted him when he told us to get into
the carriage yesterday. Oh, Mr Atherton, we must find Miss
Olivia!’

‘Yes, we
must!’ Max agreed, rising, his mind racing to answer the call to
action. ‘Finish your story, quickly, Charlotte,’ he said, striding
to the door. ‘If there is something which casts light on the man’s
motives for forcing Olivia to make that confession and for taking
Julian—’