The Phoenix Of Love

He paused and glanced at her meaningfully.

If Mr. Potts had expected Olivia to be flattered by his words, he was sadly disappointed. In truth, she thought him a pompous old windbag and an insufferable bore. But rather than voice these opinions out loud, she kept silent. Her expression gave away none of her thoughts.

Again Mr. Potts cleared his throat, trying to regain his earlier equanimity. After glancing briefly at Olivia over the top of his spectacles, he continued his speech. “But now the time has come for you to leave your humble abode and go on with your life. Yes.” He nodded like a silly ass. “That’s it exactly.”

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Oh, she knew that the inevitable must happen, but did it have to happen right now? Stoically she kept her external appearance of composure, though on the inside she was seething.

This conversation could only be taking place if her solicitor had found someone willing to act as her guardian. Who was this person and what did they want with her? Didn’t she do a good job of taking care of the manor? Maddie had died, it was true, but she got along just fine, thank you. Besides, she preferred to be alone. Olivia longed to say the words, but she knew they were futile.

Instead she inquired, “Where am I to go?”

Mr. Potts, relieved that Olivia appeared to be taking all of this so well, gave an audible sigh of relief. “Your grandmother, Lady Raleigh, the Dowager Duchess of Stonebridge, has kindly offered to have mercy on you. Even though she disowned your mother some twenty years ago, it appears as though now she is willing to forgive past grievances and take you in. You are sensible of the honor she does you, I am sure.”

The silence stretched on. Outside, the falling snow deadened all of the street noises, leaving the solicitor no hope of a distraction. He waited in vain for Olivia to agree with him. Then he took a deep breath and sighed. He should have known, he grumbled to himself, pushing his spectacles upright once more. Olivia could never be expected to do what she was supposed to. She was a very strange child.

“Lady Raleigh is waiting for you at the Three Crowns even as we speak.” As Olivia’s eyes widened slightly at the pronouncement, Mr. Potts gave a humorless smile. Finally he had gotten some kind of reaction out of her. With relish he continued. “Yes, it was all somewhat of a surprise, actually. One minute Mrs. Potts and I were quietly having our dinner, and the next minute there she was, pounding on our front door.” He muttered almost to himself, “Never thought for a moment she’d answer the letter in person.”

Olivia’s brain had almost ceased to function upon mention of her grandmother’s name. Surely she could not be going with her? It was beyond all thought!

And yet, who else did Olivia have? All of her immediate family was deceased, and all of her father’s family, as well. That just left her mother’s relatives.

But Lady Raleigh! Olivia’s father had never been able to mention the Duke and Duchess of Stonebridge without turning purple. He had been enraged at the way they had treated him and his poor darling wife. Why on earth did they want Olivia now?

Her eyes came back into focus and met with the solicitor’s. With anger she noted that he was pleased by her discomfort. She chastised herself severely. She hadn’t hidden her feelings well enough again, and now he was gloating—gloating just as her father had done every time she let her guard slip. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. She had had enough derision. She had vowed to take charge of her life, and she was going to do it. She’d never be at anyone else’s mercy again. No one would ever be able to use her emotions against her again. She wouldn’t let them.

Like a slate being wiped clean, Olivia’s face lost all trace of visible expression. She had her composure firmly in hand once again. Neutrally she repeated Mr. Potts’s earlier declaration, “She is waiting for me now?”

Disconcerted with her abruptness, Mr. Potts replied a little harshly, “Yes, at the Three Crowns, as I said.” He relented a little as he reminded himself Olivia was only a child. This whole experience was probably a great shock to her. He paused before adding more kindly, “Shall I escort you there?”

The child-woman speared him with her icicle eyes. Was he trying to manipulate her again? But no, that thought was too uncharitable. Mr. Potts was a fool, it was true, but he was not unnecessarily cruel. Still she would keep him on a short rein. Expressionlessly Olivia made her reply. “Thank you, Mr. Potts.”

After accepting his offer as escort, Olivia and Mr. Potts arrived at the Three Crowns some half an hour later. The snow on the ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked toward the door. Stopping a few feet away from the entrance, Olivia turned around and faced her solicitor. With a dignity unusual for one so young, she offered him her hand.

“Thank you so much for escorting me, Mr. Potts. You have been a tremendous help.”

Astonished, Mr. Potts stared at the young girl before him. He couldn’t quite comprehend that he was actually being dismissed by a chit half his size. Before he could make a suitable reply, however, Olivia reached down, grabbed his hand with her own, pumped it up and down a few times, and turned and walked through the door.

Somewhat uncertainly, Mr. Potts stared at the door that had closed with a solid thud behind Olivia’s retreating back. Finally, as if doubting the whole encounter, he shrugged his shoulders and began walking back to the carriage. He collected that this was one meeting where Olivia preferred not to have an observer. For once in his life, his assumption where Olivia was concerned was correct.

Once inside the establishment, the innkeeper’s wife immediately spied Olivia and rushed over to her. She was a big woman, and her sheer girth was enough to intimidate the young girl, although Olivia was careful not to show it.

“Well, little lovey!” she exclaimed, beaming. “You must be the little girl who must meet her granny!” She squeezed both of the girl’s shoulders in a friendly way, emphasizing her own excitement at the occasion.

Olivia thought this had to be the worst misinterpretation of the situation she had ever heard, but she wisely kept that opinion to herself.

Momentarily confused, the woman looked about them, still firmly grasping Olivia. “But where’s the little whatnot, deary?” she asked in her great booming voice. “Blimey if he didn’t tell me directly that you were both coming and that I should be preparing some refreshment. I don’t be understanding it at all. He shoulda come with you!”

Olivia stepped back a pace, inadvertently taking the large woman with her as her grasp on Olivia’s person held firm. “Mr. Potts was unavoidably detained,” she responded with quiet authority. “I have come here by myself.”

“Gone for a nip to stoke the fires, has he?” The innkeeper’s wife gave Olivia a searching glance. After a moment, she shrugged. “Well, it ain’t no never mind. The old lady’s been waiting for you.” She indicated somewhere behind her with the flick of her massive head. Then she maneuvered herself behind Olivia, taking hold of her shoulders from behind. “Just ‘round here, love,” she directed from the back, pushing Olivia toward the door of a private parlor.

The giantess nudged the door open with her shoulder. Inside, the room was surprisingly warm and cozy. A cheerful fire burned brightly in the grate, and the room was well lit with tapers.

In the center of the room sat Lady Raleigh. Her back was inches from the carved wood of an elegant Hepplewhite chair that she had no doubt brought with her, and her spine was as straight as a ramrod. Next to her elbow rested an untouched glass of water on an otherwise empty side table. Adorning the room was a comfortable-looking sofa, several armchairs and a pier table of cherry wood. But Olivia had eyes only for her grandmother.

She was even more striking in person than Olivia had imagined. Lady Raleigh, her back to the fireplace, stared across the room at her only remaining grandchild with eyes almost as pale as Olivia’s. Her gray velvet dress, capped with a gathering of lace high at the throat, only seemed to emphasize the unusual color of her eyes. Added to that, Lady Raleigh’s white hair and pale skin, combined with the profusion of pearls she wore about her arms and neck, made her look almost colorless.

She had a birdlike quality, thought Olivia. If she had any weight on her bones at all, she could have been a pigeon. As it was, however, her thinness undermined the comparison. For all her stern expression, she really looked to be a thin, frail old woman. That thought was oddly comforting to the girl.

Olivia had been so mesmerized by her grandmother’s appearance, she was somewhat startled when the apparition before her actually spoke.

“Leave us,” she commanded the woman behind Olivia in an imperious voice that only trembled slightly with old age.

The innkeeper’s wife abruptly let go of Olivia and bowed her way out the door, taking Olivia’s cape with her. Olivia thought it rather mean of her to leave a child all alone with the strange lady before her. But she managed to hold her ground anyway.

A few seconds brought about Lady Raleigh’s next words to her grandchild. In a surprisingly gentle voice, she asked, “Are you going to stand there all day, child, or are you going to come over here where I can get a better look at you?”

Obediently Olivia went to stand before her grandmother. Lady Raleigh took her time in examining Olivia. She reached out a hand and firmly grasped one of Olivia’s own, pulling the girl toward her. Squinting slightly, she studied Olivia from head to toe. Finally she spoke again.

“Who dressed you, child.” she asked with a genuine expression of mystification, “that you look older than I?”

Olivia thought this remark so highly amusing that she bestowed on her grandmother a smile. Or at least she thought it was a smile. In reality her eyes grew only a little warmer, and the corners of her mouth curled upward hardly at all.

She answered the question frankly. “I chose it.”

Lady Raleigh nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

In point of fact, she did not see, but she had no immediate concerns about that now. Given time, she and Olivia would get on quite famously, she was sure of that, despite the fact she had known the child for only a few minutes. The girl held her shoulders back proudly, and she did not wince or whine like other little girls. That was a good sign. Lady Raleigh didn’t like whiners.

The old woman beckoned the girl to sit down in a chair across from her. Waiting until Olivia had seated herself, she began her quizzing. “What have you heard about me?” she demanded.

Olivia looked at her elder with candor. “Not much.”

“What exactly does that mean…not much?”

Again her lips hinted at a smile. “Not much good.”

Lady Raleigh leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a good look at Olivia. As if she thought she could startle a confession out of her, she barked, “What do you think of me?”

Olivia’s expression turned ever so slightly wary. But her eyes were still cool. “I’m not sure.”

“Well,” replied her grandmother, leaning back a little in her chair after she had completed her own examination, “I shall be honest with you. You are not what I expected.”

Lady Raleigh waited for a reaction. She didn’t get one. Nonplussed, she continued. “No, whatever monstrosity I had expected Edgar to raise, you certainly are not it.” Her look was approving. “You act very poised, Olivia, just like a young lady. You impress me.”

Olivia couldn’t break her gaze from her grandmother’s. Her eyes were positively mesmerizing. Was this what it was like to be on the other side of her stare? Unsure, she replied, “Thank you.”

At that moment, a knock on the door announced the arrival of a visitor. The innkeeper’s wife, having.regained her earlier blustery manner, came into the room like a ship under full sail. Setting the refreshments out, she kept up a constant stream of chatter, not once noticing that her conversation was completely one-sided.

For Olivia, the interruption was an opportunity to reflect on her own impressions. She decided that Lady Raleigh was not what she had expected, either. From her father’s countless tirades, she had expected her grandmother to be a veritable dragoness. Oh, she had a bark… Olivia could see that, but she doubted the frail body before her had much of a bite. She narrowed her eyes a little as her thoughts steamed onward, but it was the only change in expression she allowed herself. At least until she got a good look at the spread laid out by the landlady.

With the woman gone and the food before them, Lady Raleigh was about to continue her conversation when she noticed Olivia’s expression. The child was not as good at hiding her feelings as she thought she was, Lady Raleigh noticed. The stare Olivia was giving the hot, buttered scones was practically burning a hole in the table.

In truth, Olivia was very smitten with the idea of biting into one of the scones. It had been so long since she had had anything like them. Looking hungrily at the treats before her, Olivia had to use all of her willpower not to reach out and snatch one.

Lady Raleigh’s words broke into her thoughts. “Go ahead, girl,” she offered kindly. “Take one while they are still hot.”

Olivia started to reach for a scone and then abruptly remembered her manners. “Wouldn’t you care for a scone, Grandmama?” she asked with all of the graciousness of a grown hostess.

Lady Raleigh, pleased at both her granddaughter’s polite behavior and her new name, shook her head. “I believe I’ll wait,” she replied.

While Olivia finished her scone and sat eyeing another one, Lady Raleigh continued their discussion. “Do you miss your father, Olivia?” she asked in a clipped voice.

Unsure of how to answer such a question, Olivia took a moment to think about it as she finished chewing her food. She regarded her grandmother seriously. “I accept my loss.”

“That’s a rather grown-up attitude for someone as young as you,” the lady replied.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders delicately. Her grandmother had meant no offense by the comment and none was taken. Still she wasn’t sure how to respond to her. For the moment, she decided not to try.

Lady Raleigh continued. “I do not pretend to have had any affection for Edgar, Olivia. He stole my daughter away from me and her rightful heritage and I cannot forgive him for that.” She added almost as an afterthought. “I can’t forgive her, either.”

Olivia regarded her grandparent gravely. In a quiet voice, she told her, “Papa blamed you for Mama’s death.”

Instead of snorting in disgust as Olivia was sure her relative would do, Lady Raleigh sat still, as if stunned by this bit of information. But after a moment she regained some of her composure and replied with an indication of uneasiness, “I do not doubt that my daughter and I caused each other grief during our respective lifetimes, but I can hardly be held accountable for her death. Your father never did want to see anything for what it really was. That’s one reason, although it is hardly the only one, my husband and I disapproved of the match.”

Olivia’s eyebrows quirked together in puzzlement. “One reason?”

“Yes.” Lady Raleigh’s own eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Olivia—your mother, that is—was engaged to an earl when she ran off with your father. The wedding papers were all but signed. We had no choice but to cut her.” She gazed at Olivia with brutal frankness. “She was a fool and she should have known better.”

Olivia took her time thinking this over. Up until now she had only her father’s version of the story. It was interesting to hear another version of an event that had caused so many people bitterness and pain. Still she felt somewhat unaffected by the whole affair—as if the story were an entertaining bit of gossip about someone else’s family.

Without warning, Lady Raleigh changed the topic. “You will be coming to London to live with me.” Her voice brooked no argument. “My husband died some years ago, leaving me a widow. The estate in Sussex went to my nephew, a pompous young man whom I detest, but he was kind enough to let me live in the dowager house, if I so chose. I detest the country, however, and live year-round in London instead. I have a house on Wimpole Street. It’s not overly large, you understand, but more than adequate for the pair of us.” She looked at Olivia expectantly.

Not wishing to offend her grandmother, she replied, “I’m sure it is quite nice.”

Lady Raleigh gave her a brisk, decisive nod. “Very well. We will leave in three days’ time. Although I doubt you have much to pack, I’ll need to stay at least that long to make sure all of Edgar’s affairs are in order. God knows, there are probably a hundred debts to pay off.

“I shall stay here at the inn until we leave for town. I won’t stay at your father’s house—you understand I cannot. Edgar would turn over in his grave if I did, and my husband would rise from his in outrage. You may come and visit me here as often as you like in the meantime.

“Mrs. Potts has graciously offered to oversee your packing for me. I’m sure she is already waiting for you at the house even as we speak. My coachman will drive you back.”

As she seemed dismissed, Olivia got up uncertainly from her seat. Subdued, she walked across the parlor to the door. Before she opened it, however, she turned around to face her grandmother. Politely she waited to be acknowledged.

“Well?” queried the lady, her imperial bearing once again very much in evidence.

“Do you…” began Olivia hesitantly. She searched for the right words. If she asked this question, then she would be opening herself up to attack. This strange woman before her would know her vulnerable spot. She’d know how to wound her in the future.

And yet how could she not ask it? She couldn’t very well leave Isis behind. An argument over the Siamese would be a terrible way to start her new relationship with her grandmother.

She almost bit back the words. But, no, she had to ask. Finally she opened her mouth again. Her eyes grew unconsciously wistful as she phrased the question. Such an awful lot of her future depended on the answer she would receive. “Do you…like cats?” She waited silently, building up her defenses against the rejection that was sure to come.

Again Lady Raleigh spied the little girl hiding behind the grown-up facade. With a conviction that would have surprised many of her cronies back in London, she declared soundly, “I adore them.”

Chapter Four

London, 1816

“Olivia!”

With painful slowness, Olivia brought her vision back into focus on the oil painting in front of her. The gay foursome, frolicking in the great Italian outdoors, danced across her eyes, the delicate brushstrokes of their picnic spread not quite becoming clear fast enough.

Knowing she had slipped back into her memories as easily as she had slid into her chemise this morning, Olivia strove for the center of calm that would help her retain her composure. There, she had it. But she hadn’t yet responded to the call of her name. Mortified but determined not to show it, she dropped her gaze to the slight form of her grandmother across the room, only to see the old woman perched precariously on the edge of a Georgian armchair covered in maroon-and-gold-striped upholstery.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last five minutes.” The look Lady Raleigh gave her was stern, but there was a worried frown that creased her brow, and her lips were white with fright.

Olivia was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Grandmama. I’ve been losing my concentration a lot lately. I guess I’m just tired,” she dissembled.

The dowager stared intently at her relative, knowing full well she was being put off with a half-truth. But she decided not to make an issue out of it. “Marie,” said Lady Raleigh, loudly addressing the seamstress on her knees who was pinning the hem of Olivia’s gown, “Olivia is exhausted. And to be frank about it, so am I. It looks as if we shall have to fit her ball gown at another time. Say, tomorrow at four?”

“Oui, madame.” The petite French seamstress immediately got to her feet and began helping Olivia out of the dress. In moments, all trace of the afternoon’s fitting session were gone, and the two ladies were left alone in the charmingly decorated room.

Lady Raleigh got up from the chair and walked over to the bellpull. Her steps came slower now that she found it necessary to walk with a cane.

“We shall have our tea in here today, I think,” she said as she turned around to face her granddaughter.

“That would be lovely,” Olivia responded without the kind of tonal inflection needed to make the statement ring true. Immediately she went back to her contemplation of the painting.

But instead of reaching up and pulling on the rope, Lady Raleigh merely rested her hand on the velvet cord and frowned at her charge. It tore at the old woman’s heart to think that to Olivia, her life was a normal one. Even after all these years in her grandmother’s loving company, she had never seen the girl feel anything. Not really. She had never seen her look unhappy or sad. She had never appeared angry or disgruntled. She never looked frustrated or upset. Her face, as beautiful as it was, seemed to be carved from marble, for her features never moved with expression.

But more than any other expression, Lady Raleigh wanted to see Olivia smile. Underneath it all, she knew that her granddaughter was suffering. The masque she played for the world was the way Olivia hid pain so deep it seemed impossible to heal. Of that, Lady Raleigh was sure. But she so desperately wanted to see her smile. She wanted so much for her granddaughter to be happy.

A few times, the old woman remembered with hope, a few times she had seen something lingering at the corners of Olivia’s mouth. Sometimes, when her guard was down, she would smile just a tiny bit, a ghost of something that could be much grander, much more impressive, if she were but to try.

But that was the problem. Lady Raleigh knew that now. Olivia had no heart to try. Whatever feelings the girl had were locked away deep inside her heart, behind walls so high and thorny the old woman had little hope of ever seeing them in her lifetime.

Yet, she knew they were there. She knew because she also knew that Olivia was fond of her aged relative. It showed in her gestures and in her voice. Sometimes her voice would grow soft and wistful, even while her face kept its expressionless lines. But only on occasion. It was actually very rare.

Lady Raleigh knew that her granddaughter responded to intimacy by stepping back, by avoiding the situation like a colt shying from its handler. It was as though Olivia distanced herself from any contact with other human beings that would put her on any footing other than that of a distant acquaintance. Even with her grandmother.

And she so needed that contact, thought Lady Raleigh as she gazed with fond sadness at the beautiful young woman across the room. Olivia desperately needed someone to tear her away from those silent, damning thoughts—the ones that ate at her and kept her from her grandmother’s company, even while she was in the same room.

“What do you think of your gown, dear?” inquired the dowager loudly, hoping to break Olivia from the new trance that had gripped her young charge.

Olivia turned her head to look at her grandmother. Her eyes, even though they were focused on her relative, seemed to look through her. “It’s lovely, of course.”

Lady Raleigh nodded vigorously. “And so it is. There can be no doubt about that. And you will look lovely in it, my girl,” she announced in ringing tones, and she hit her cane on the ground for emphasis.

Slowly Olivia dropped her gaze from her grandmother’s, and she searched distractedly for the embroidery she had left near her seat Finding it, she picked at the tiny threads with abstracted movements of her hands, all the while a single crease deepening on her forehead.