Of Moths and Butterflies

CHAPTER thirty-two





RCHER AND HIS uncle returned to the Abbey the following afternoon. With the last hours of his bachelorhood now before him, and with nothing to do but contemplate the fact, he vainly tried to come to terms with the week’s events, and what was likely to come of them. The look on Imogen’s face as she had left him had nearly brought him to his knees, and he had then begun to understand just how gross an error he had committed.

He sat alone in his book room contemplating these things and grasping desperately at every rationale that might ease him of the guilt and hopelessness he felt. He had just begun to find some little success in the endeavour when the door flew open.

“Claire!” he said rising.

She entered the room and unbuttoned her wrap before throwing it onto a nearby chair, after which she proceeded to pace the room, one hand on her hip and the other fidgeting with the fob of her pendant watch.

“You are to be married,” she said at last.

“Yes.”

“I won’t congratulate you.”

Archer didn’t answer this and, after another long silence, she turned to face him with an expression he had never before seen on her usually placid face.

“What were you thinking?” She seemed about to cry. “What in heaven’s name can you have been thinking!”

“I didn’t have much choice, Claire.”

“You have all the choice in the world. You alone can stop this.”

“It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. Not yet. You can speak to her. I’ll speak to her. The money–” She waved her hand as though it were all inconsequential. “You can find another way. I’ll help you. Whatever it takes. But you must stop this.”

Archer’s voice was low but steady. “I don’t want to stop it.

“I can see that,” she said with a furious huff of breath.

“I spoke to her, Claire. She did agree.”

“Before or after she knew it was arranged?”

Again, he offered no answer. There was no need. Claire understood the matter already.

“You have betrayed her. Do you see that you have betrayed her?”

“I truly had no choice, Claire. Yes, the way this has come about is regrettable, reproachable, even, but if she would not have me, if I do not have her, the alternative is unthinkable.”

“For you. But have you considered her?”

“Yes, of course. It’s not all I’ve considered, granted. But think, Claire. She is unhappy where she is. Her cousin would marry her, but he’s unworthy of her. And through me, through us, she can be raised to what she truly ought to be.”

“You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Don’t I? I saw as well as you how ill-suited she was to a life of servitude. Now she will be mistress of it all.”

Claire closed her eyes and the look on her face frightened him.

“You do not understand. You cannot understand how a woman used to being always the object of some man’s desire must feel now that she has been made irrevocably so. And by you. Archer, I cannot believe it!”

“I can restore her, Claire,” he said, though his voice wavered under the intensity of his cousin’s accusing gaze.

Claire crossed to the fireplace and with one finger she pointed menacingly at the Blue Morpho on the mantelpiece.

“She is not one of your butterflies, Archer. She is not some creature you can collect. You cannot put the dust back on her wings. You cannot take the pin out of her back. She’s not the butterfly. She’s the glass box. Do you understand?”

But he didn’t. Not really.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I will earn her regard, Claire. I don’t care what it takes.”

“You haven’t the first idea what it will take. You’ve never had to make such sacrifices as will now be required of you.”

He was hurt by this. Claire had never before treated him with such disdain, and he could not comprehend it.

She sank down into a chair and looked at him as though he were some truant child in whom she was bitterly disappointed. “Why couldn’t you have broken with your uncle? You might have had some chance then.”

“I can’t leave him. Not now. Perhaps there never was a time. But do you see? I’ve at last done what he has all along wished for me to do. I restore him, too.”

“Archer,” she hissed.

“I have to believe it, Claire, or there is no hope at all.”

“Yes,” she said with a toss of her head. “That’s the problem. You believe what you want to believe. One day your uncle will love you. One day the woman you’ve bought will love you. When are you going to learn that love cannot be bought or bartered?”

“Claire, please.”

“What would make you agree to this?”

“I think I’ve just told you.”

“You love her.”

“Yes.”

“So much so that you will trade every last vestige she has of self-respect, for the fortune she brings with her. This is love?”

“My reasons are not entirely selfish.”

“Aren’t they?”

“Her aunts, Claire, are determined to sell her. To somebody. To anybody who will agree to give them their share in return. My uncle is determined to have it.”

“Through you.”

“So long as I’m willing. But there are others every bit as willing, and with far less regard for her welfare than I.”

She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, and then suddenly gasped and covered her mouth.

“I do see that this is wrong. I do understand that I have a great deal to do to make up for this. But I believe I can do it, Claire. At least I want the chance to try. And if the alternative is to watch her be married to Roger Barrett… Or worse, Wyndham!” He shook his head. “It’s unthinkable.”

Claire leaned back hard in her chair. It was several minutes before she found her voice. “This is dreadful, Archer,” she said and then fell silent again for a long time. “What she’s suffered already... What it will take to mend her... I don’t think you have it in you.”

Archer blinked in receipt of this.

“I hope I’m wrong. I pray that you can somehow make this right. But I don’t, at present, see how.”

“What has she suffered, Claire?” he dared to ask. “Do you know?”

Again, Claire was silent, thinking. “Have you ever wondered why I’ve never married?” she said at last.

“As a matter of fact, I have. It’s not for want of admirers, I know that much.”

“I can love very deeply, very intensely. From a distance, from an arm’s length, I can adore with all the fervour imaginable. But there is a line impossible to cross where that adoration ought to become that which I would have for husbands and lovers. I can’t get there. I won’t let anyone close enough to persuade me. Not again.”

“Why not?”

“Because, were I to open myself up like that, were I to be betrayed in that openness, I would never recover. It is the same for her.”

“So it’s impossible.”

“I don’t know. If you are the one who has ultimately betrayed her, then I’m afraid it may be. You have time on your side, I suppose. Unless she finds a way to extricate herself.”

“Claire!”

“She may. I would not blame her.”

“You would not help her? You would not betray me?”

Claire was silent for a minute or two. “Good heaven, Archer!” she burst out at last. “Above all others do you know how I have loved you?” Her hands shook as she spoke. “I have placed such hope in your becoming the kind of man I could love.”

“Claire, what are you saying?”

“It’s impossible. I know that and have always known it, but it’s true nevertheless. If you could become that man, Archer! But how to do it now? I simply cannot believe you have allowed this to happen.”

And Claire began to cry, great silent tears. His feet were pulled from beneath him. He’d never seen her like this before.

“I think I almost hate you now,” she said and arose to take up her coat.

“Claire,” he pleaded.

But she did not answer.

“Claire,” he tried again.

She did not acknowledge him in any way, only walked from the room and out of the house.