Susan Schonberg - The Phoenix Of Love

Gazing at her in a kind of shock, Wentworth vainly attempted not to think about Olivia’s resemblance to his now long-dead wife. Silently he cursed the impulse that possessed him in a moment of madness to name his second child after his wife. His beloved’s creamy white skin, lush dark hair, firm chin and high cheekbones were replicated on the smaller version before him. Worst of all, though, were Olivia’s eyes. His dead wife’s eyes stared back at him from across the table, and tonight, in his own mind, they were full of accusation.

Tiny wrinkles formed on Olivia’s brow as she realized that something was dreadfully wrong with her father. He looked angry, upset and terrified. Worse, she thought, her father looked possessed.

Trying desperately to bring him back to the here and now, Olivia asked her question again, enunciating each word slowly and carefully.

“Papa. Who was that man?”

Wentworth, dropping his eyes before the interrogative stare of his daughter, attempted to take a bite of the boiled beef on his plate. But the dry meat stuck in his throat, choking him. Recovering quickly from his coughing fit, he got up from the table and threw his napkin onto his plate. The next second, he strode from the room without saying a word.

The long shadows, with their ominous shapes creeping across the room, were the only response to Olivia’s unanswered question.

A few hours after Olivia had finally drifted off to sleep, she was gently awakened by Maddie. The woman’s voice was soothing and calm. Although indistinct at first, the sound finally became words in Olivia’s consciousness.

“Here now, my love,” cooed the nurse. “I know you’re tired, poor wee thing, but we’ve got to get you ready for a trip.”

Olivia sat up in her bed slowly, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She blinked sleepily, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. After a moment, she was able to focus her eyes on her nanny.

“A trip?” she asked uncomprehendingly.

Maddie turned away from Olivia and returned the covers the little girl had tossed about in her sleep to the end of the bed. The old woman had her doubts about this strange trip in the middle of the night, but she kept them to herself.

“Indeed, yes,” she replied in as cheerful a manner as she could manage. “You and your father are going to Norwood Park.”

Olivia stared blankly at her nurse, the words not making any sense to her. Where was Norwood Park? What was it? Finally comprehension dawned.

Olivia’s eyes went round with fear. She had seen the park, and not so very long ago. Occasionally Olivia was able to slip away from Gateland Manor unattended, and on one of her more recent forays, she had glimpsed the house through the woods. The thought of going to that spooky old mansion, with all of its encroaching weeds and darkened, windows, did nothing to assuage her fear.

“Now, now, my poppet,” soothed Maddie, gently patting her charge’s hand. “’Tis nothing to be worried about, I’m sure. You mustn’t believe all those Banbury tales about the place being haunted, for I’m sure it simply isn’t true.”

In point of fact, Olivia was so isolated at Gateland Manor that she had never heard this particular rumor about the house, but she didn’t think that now was the appropriate time to bring up that fact. Maddie would just be upset if she found out Olivia had never heard the story before now.

Maddie made a dismissive gesture as she continued. “Besides, the master is going with you, and you know he would never put you in harm’s way.”

Olivia digested this bit of wisdom from her nurse and concluded that what she said was true. Her papa would never let anything happen to her.

“And look, Olivia. He brought you this.”

Maddie’s voice broke into the girl’s reverie, and she looked up to see her nanny holding the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. The material was pale blue and trimmed with navy ribbons. Around the neck and cuffs was delicately scalloped lace, and it felt rich to the touch of Olivia’s tiny fingers. When she put it on, the dress reached to the middle of her calves. Maddie had given her a pair of white stockings to complete the ensemble, and to Olivia, the effect was enchanting.

“Oh, Nanny!” cried Olivia, spinning around in circles in front of the peer glass. “Is it really just for me?”

Maddie laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Yes, my dear,” she answered fondly, “it really is for you.”

When Olivia came down the main staircase thirty minutes later, Wentworth’s breath caught in his throat. Never had he seen such a perfect-looking angel! The dress, with its contrasting shades of blue, was the perfect setting to show off his daughter’s unusual eyes and creamy skin. Her dark heavy hair, held back from her face with a navy ribbon bought specifically to match the dress, swayed gently against her back as she descended the staircase.

“You look just like your mother, child,” he whispered as she approached him.

And then it hit him. The vision struck so hard, it was just like a physical blow. Wentworth staggered back, his hands out before him in a plea of supplication and remorse. “No, my dear,” he pleaded as the ephemeral form of his former wife floated down to him, her eyes ablaze with righteous anger. “It’s not what you think! I did it for you! I did it for you!” He cringed as the dress he had just given her burst into flames around her form, consuming everything within its reach but leaving her fragile figure unscathed. He closed his eyes and moaned piteously until he felt the frantic tugging on his greatcoat.

“Papa!” Olivia cried, her eyes wide with alarm. “Are you all right?”

Silently he stared at her, his eyes uncomprehending. Then, with just the barest hesitation, his expression changed. His lids closed halfway over orbs that were crafty and furtive. He straightened his back, took hold of his daughter’s arm and scrutinized her appearance carefully.

Yes, he thought. This was going to be just as he planned. That dress made his beautiful sweet daughter look just like Persephone, the goddess of spring. The marquis ought to appreciate her sweet innocence, he chortled internally.

At the thought of Olivia’s impending marriage, Wentworth’s mercurial mood turned instantly black, and he scowled at his daughter. He was glad she looked so lovely and innocent. Just let Traverston see the beautiful creature whose life he was about to destroy. Just let him see what his black hand was about to corrupt. By God, he vowed, he would see the marquis in hell for this! Quickly he yanked his daughter with him toward the door and the carriage, before he could lose his newfound sense of purpose.

Although Norwood Park was really quite close to the manor, the carriage ride in the hired post chaise took over fifteen minutes. For Olivia, the minutes dragged by. Far from being reassuring, her father’s presence in the coach was an added torment. His actions today had been so strange that Olivia didn’t know what to think.

When they finally did arrive, Olivia was stunned by the spectacle that met her eyes. She had expected the house to be a forbidding sight, but instead the building and its surroundings were serenely beautiful. In the autumn moonlight, Norwood Park was enchanting. A silvery lake, illuminated by the brilliant moon, reflected a hauntingly mellow vision of the grounds around the water. A great oak arched majestically over the edge of one shore, hinting to the observer of quiet summer nights long past.

The house itself was a marvel, as well. Great blocks of gray stone formed the exterior, suggestive of chivalrous times and knights in shining armor. And best of all, every single window was brightly lit with candles, welcoming Olivia to the ethereal home. By the time the carriage stopped, she was breathless with wonder and excitement.