Chapter 13 #2
A genuine smile tugged at the corner of Evander’s mouth. “That I do. She’s been… a miracle, really. I don’t know how she manages it—supporting me, my mother, dealing with all this pressure—but she does. Quietly. Steadily.”
“You know I’m no advocate for marriage,” Alcott said, though the warmth remained in his voice, “but in your case… I daresay it’s proven beneficial.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Your reputation as a determined bachelor would be forever tarnished,” Evander teased.
Alcott grinned. “Exactly. So let’s keep it between us. I’ve built a carefully composed image of romantic cynicism. I’d hate to see it shattered.”
“Still, you’ll have to marry eventually. You need an heir. Your estate won’t manage itself when you’re gone.”
Alcott gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, yes. One day, I’ll find some well-bred lady to tolerate me. It’ll be for practical purposes only, I assure you. No foolishness about love.”
Evander gave him a dry look. “What a lucky lady she will be.”
Alcott appeared unbothered. “Do try to rest, Evander. You look like a man being pulled apart by too many hands.”
You have no idea, Evander thought, but said nothing.
With a final glance at the room—a room filled with laughter and men who had no idea what kind of world was unraveling outside its walls—he turned and made his way towards the door, already dreading the quiet heaviness that waited for him at home.
The room was still, dimly lit by the weak afternoon light slanting through the tall windows.
Olivia sat by the bedside, her book resting open but unread in her lap.
Her eyes drifted away from the page, again and again, to the figure beneath the embroidered coverlet.
Lady Everwyck was asleep—truly asleep, not just resting her eyes as she sometimes pretended to.
The soft snoring that rose from her was gentle.
Olivia found herself listening for it, counting on it, as if its rhythm might ward off the silence she dreaded.
The countess’s face was drawn, her skin nearly translucent against the white pillows, but her features were still sharp.
She had never been a woman to shrink away from battle, and even now—frail, half in shadow—there was a stubbornness in her jaw that declared she would not go easily.
If death had come knocking, Lady Everwyck would not open the door without a fight.
Suddenly, the stillness broke.
“Dear heavens,” the countess murmured, her voice scratchy with sleep. “Was I snoring?”
“No,” Olivia replied, too quickly, too smoothly.
Lady Everwyck narrowed her eyes in that familiar way, a wry smile playing on her lips. “I daresay you are being kind to spare my vanity.”
Caught, Olivia grinned. “Guilty. But I thought it rather soothing, actually.”
A huff of laughter escaped the countess. “My snoring has only worsened with age, I fear.”
Olivia gestured to the silver pitcher on the side table. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said, pushing herself upright.
Olivia stood at once. “Let me help you.”
But the countess waved her off. “Do not trouble yourself, my dear.”
Olivia returned to her seat, watching carefully as Lady Everwyck arranged a pillow behind her back. She looked impossibly small in the vast bed, the silken coverlet swallowing her whole. Still there was fire in her eyes.
“Do not look at me like that,” the countess said, her tone light but pointed.
“Like what?”
“As though I might perish at any moment.”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia murmured. “I didn’t mean to.”
Lady Everwyck smiled again, but this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. But I have no intention of giving up. Not yet.”
“I’m glad. Evander… he will be devastated when you—” Her voice caught.
“When I die,” Lady Everwyck finished softly.
“Yes, but—”
The older woman raised a hand, silencing her. “You don’t have to soften the truth for me. I’m dying, Olivia. I’ve made peace with that.”
A wave of helplessness washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” Lady Everwyck asked. “It’s not your fault. This body has simply reached its end. There is nothing for you to apologize for.”
Olivia reached for her hand, desperate to do something—anything—that felt like comfort. “I just wish I could help you.”
“You already have,” Lady Everwyck said, squeezing her fingers. “You’re taking care of Evander. That is more than I could ever ask for.”
“I will always care for him,” Olivia promised.
Lady Everwyck’s gaze softened. “It is my greatest hope that one day you will love him, as well.”
Olivia’s heart jolted. “I do love him—”
“Not affection, Child,” the countess interrupted. “I’m speaking of that rare kind of love. The kind where you will find friendship and romance—all in the same person.”
Olivia looked away, unable to answer. Her feelings for Evander were tangled—deep and steady, yes, but also uncertain. She didn’t know what name to give them. Was it love? And if it wasn’t… would it ever be?
Lady Everwyck didn’t press her. “It’s all right. I know why you married him. You did it for me.”
“That is partially true,” Olivia admitted. “Evander offered his name to protect me. He saved me from ruin. He gave me safety when I had none.”
“And he would do it again,” Lady Everwyck said. “He would do anything for you.”
“And I for him.”
That seemed to please Lady Everwyck. Her lips curved into a genuine smile, one that reached her eyes and crinkled the corners. “You two have always been thick as thieves.”
Olivia laughed. “Only because he used to follow me around.”
“Like the time you dressed as a boy and snuck into his fencing lesson, calling yourself his cousin.”
A laugh bubbled up from Olivia’s chest. “The fencing master didn’t believe me for a moment. ‘Marco’ was not my finest invention.”
“No, it wasn’t,” the countess agreed. “But Evander played along.”
“He always did,” Olivia said, her smile lingering. “I remember when he helped glue feathers onto my arms and convinced me that I could fly. It took hours for the maid to scrub the glue off me.”
Lady Everwyck leaned her head back and laughed, a rich sound that warmed the room. “You were a wild sight. All feathers and bare knees, running across the lawn like you truly believed you’d take flight.”
“I did believe it. But I was only eight.”
The countess’s laughter faded into a thoughtful silence. “I can only imagine what your children will get up to.”
Olivia stiffened. “Evander and I haven’t discussed children.”
“But you will have them?” the countess pressed, tilting her head.
“I… I suppose. One day.”
“Of course you will. Children may be useless little creatures, but they bring more joy than sense.”
Olivia gave a short, uneasy laugh. “I do want children. I think. But I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Of not liking them. I’ve never cared for other people’s children. They seem so… tedious. And loud.”
Lady Everwyck gave her a knowing look. “Most people feel that way. Until the child is their own. Then you would gladly move heaven and earth for them.”
“And if I don’t?” Olivia asked, her fear crackling at the edges of her voice.
“There will be days you won’t like them. But the good days will make it worthwhile. And on the bad days, you’ll be especially grateful for the nursemaids.”
Something in Olivia’s chest unknotted at that. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”
“No,” Lady Everwyck said with quiet certainty. “You’re far more normal than you believe. Even Paul was terrified of babies. He used to hold them like fragile glass, convinced he’d drop them.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“He was just like you. The endless questions from our sons drove him mad. But he loved them all the same.”
“I don’t think he’s changed.”
“He has,” the countess insisted. “Slowly. And not always in ways you can see.” She paused. “Have you ever truly been in love?”
Olivia looked down at her hands, fingers laced tightly in her lap. “I thought I had been. But I was wrong.”
“Love is unpredictable,” Lady Everwyck said. “Your heart rarely picks with logic. Mine chose Paul.”
The word came out before Olivia could stop it. “Why?”
The countess’s expression grew amused. “Because beneath his harsh exterior is a deeply tender heart.”
Olivia raised a skeptical brow. “Are you quite sure?”
“I am. He was always hard on Evander because he saw his younger self in him. As a second son, he understood how precarious life—and inheritance—could be. He wanted Evander to be prepared.”
“He was cruel about Evander’s choices,” Olivia responded. “He mocked his love of learning. Scorned his career in academia.”
“Because he believed Evander should stay close. Be ready to assist Bryon in case of his untimely death.”
“Evander had to make his own way.”
“He did, and I’ve never been prouder.”
“I don’t think your husband shares that sentiment.”
Lady Everwyck sighed. “Paul is not easy to love. But those are the moments he needs it most.”
Olivia hesitated, then said, “Evander’s relationship with his father is… complicated.”
“I know. I won’t excuse Paul’s behavior, but he does love his son. In his own way.”
“Forgive me, but he has a terrible way of showing it.”
Lady Everwyck grew quiet, her gaze distant. “Paul’s father was a cruel man. He beat his sons for any infraction. Vindictive, brutal. Paul ended that cycle. He refused to lay a hand on his boys. But the anger still lingers sometimes. It slips through.”
“I daresay Evander is not like his father,” Olivia said. “He’s slow to anger, thoughtful. That’s one of the reasons he is one of my dearest friends.”
Eyeing her curiously, the countess asked, “Does your heart still belong to another?”
The question landed like a stone in Olivia’s chest. “No. No, no…” She shook her head, too quickly, her words too vehement. “I fell for the wrong man. He married someone else. At the time, it felt… unbearable, but it was for the best. It had to be.”