Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (2 page)

“Shh, dearest, don’t weep so,” Betsy said as she stayed close.

“They told me that she was stillborn when I woke. How did my baby die?” Savannah demanded as she looked toward Mary. “Tell me, how did she die?”

Mary paled as she watched Savannah. She shared a glance with Betsy, uncertain what to say. At Betsy’s subtle nod, Mary squared her shoulders. “She didn’t.”

CHAPTER 2

MATILDA AND SAVANNAH sat on lady’s chairs in the Sullivan family parlor to call on Mrs. Sullivan for tea. Sunlight streamed in the front window, highlighting alterations to the room. Reupholstered settees and chairs in rich gold and ruby formed new seating patterns in the room. A love seat—with two chairs on either side—was placed where the piano had formerly stood near the front window. The fireplace had been refitted with imported Italian marble. The wallpaper, sparkling with its gold highlights, shimmered in the sunlight.

“It is so gracious of you to call. I am delighted to welcome you to see the completed refurbishments of the parlor.” Rebecca Sullivan waved around the room. “Now if I can only convince Sean to loosen the purse strings for the rest of the house.

“I’m sure neither of you contend with such an obstinate husband when it comes to financial matters. Sean believes in economy and moderation above all things. He believes I should act as his first wife, Agnes, did and be satisfied with her furbishment of the house. Can you imagine? When this house remains firmly rooted in the nineteenth century? It must be modernized!” Rebecca Sullivan spoke in a sweet alto voice, leaning forward as though imparting great secrets. She wore a teal dress, cut to highlight her voluptuous figure. Her light-blond hair was pulled back into a stylish chignon, enhancing her long, thin face.

“I know how you suffer, Rebecca,” Savannah’s mother, Matilda, said. “My sister Agnes was a wonderful woman but believed in thrift and economy as the ruling principles behind her decoration. For my part, Martin is much the same. Never understands why the drapery needs to be changed or why new furniture is a necessity. He seems to enjoy living in the past.”

“Of course, Savannah must have no such difficulties with a generous husband such as Mr. Montgomery.”

“Yes, Jonas is generous in all regards,” Savannah said.

“Such a genteel man. One can only imagine how he must be to live with,” Rebecca said with an envious smile to Matilda.

“You can only imagine,” Savannah murmured.

“You are looking much recovered, Savannah,” Rebecca said with a nod of agreement from Matilda. “Your extended mourning was not at all becoming.”

“I have felt more like my old self these past few days,” Savannah said. “I recovered well during my visit to Aunt Betsy’s. I no longer need the tisane recommended by Jonas’s physician.” She picked up her teacup with her right hand but dropped the cup with a gasp. The cup fell to the table, cracking its delicate china base.

“Savannah,” her mother hissed. Matilda stilled her movement to wipe the spilled tea with her white linen napkin when she heard Mrs. Sullivan gasp.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Sullivan. I fell and hurt my wrist, and forgot I shouldn’t use my right hand,” Savannah said. She massaged her wrist as she held it against her lower abdomen. “I will speak with Jonas about a replacement teacup.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Sullivan said as she edged her new china teapot and plates away from Savannah. She cleaned the spilled tea with her handkerchief. “You are fortunate indeed to have such a man’s interest that he would concern himself with something so minor as a teacup.”

Savannah forced a smile as Mrs. Sullivan continued to speak. “We have very little word from Clarissa. Do you hear from her? I had thought that ungrateful young woman would write us more, as is our due, as we are her stepmother and father, and yet she seems intent to break her father’s heart with her silence.”

“She writes us once a week. Their one year anniversary approaches, and I believe she is disappointed she is not yet expecting a blessed event.” Matilda took a sip of tea.

“Oh, if she only knew what a bother it is to have a child, she’d rejoice at her childless state. Just last week I was awakened by Melinda, not once, but twice. It seems she is teething again. Why she can’t soothe herself is beyond me.” Mrs. Sullivan pursed her lips in disgust.

“Did you go to her? Comfort her?” Savannah asked.

“Of course not. She needs to learn to calm herself.”

“She’s eighteen months old,” Savannah said with a hint of steel in her voice. “I’m uncertain how you expect such a young child to know such things.”

“If I don’t instill such attributes as self-reliance in her now, she’ll never learn them.” Mrs. Sullivan watched Savannah with a censorious look. “What parenting advice can a childless woman give me, Savannah? I’d count myself fortunate your daughter died rather than have to listen to her mewling cries and constant interruptions in your life.”

Savannah paled and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I will never give thanks that my daughter was taken from me. Unlike you, I would have rejoiced at her presence in my life.” She rose and nodded to her mother and Mrs. Sullivan. “If you will excuse me, I have other calls to make.” She strode from the room, and, after a moment, the table shook from the force of the front door slamming shut.

Rebecca turned to Matilda. “Well, I never, Matilda. I thought you had raised her to be more respectful of her hostess.”

“The loss of her daughter continues to haunt her.”

“I would think she’d have recovered after six months.”

“It’s approaching seven months, and I see no end to her grief,” Matilda said with a sigh. “I had hoped that today she was beginning to show signs of recovery. She seems to believe she is the only woman who has lost a child. I understand her sorrow, but I cannot countenance such behavior.”

“I would think Mr. Montgomery would aid her in seeing the error in her ways.”

“I believe he tries, in his way. However, she is reluctant to be persuaded to his manner of thinking.” Matilda shook her head. “She has become fanciful in her grief, believing that her daughter lived and was taken from her.”

Mrs. Sullivan smirked. “As if that husband of hers would act in such a way. Her behavior’s been indulged too long, Matilda. You need to take care with her.”

“I fear she has been influenced by Clarissa’s radical beliefs about women.”

Mrs. Sullivan gasped. “Never say such a thing. Although I know it pains Sean to have her so far away, I’m glad not to have to listen to her spouting her suffragist nonsense nor live with the turmoil she brought to our daily lives. I can’t imagine what that man in Montana sees in her.”

“And yet you wanted her to marry Mr. Wright.”

“You know he would have been like Mr. Montgomery. A steady, strong hand to steer her in the proper direction. I fear that Mr. McLeod will only continue to encourage her radical ideas and she will become wilder.” Mrs. Sullivan shuddered.

“Any word about Mr. Wright?”

“I had tea with his mother recently. He has remained in Montana and is enamored of a Mrs. Bouchard’s daughter. He has chosen to remain to be near her.”

“Do you believe the proximity to Clarissa has anything to do with his desire to remain in Montana?” Matilda took a sip of tea and watched Mrs. Sullivan over her teacup.

“I should think not. She is a married woman now, and her dowry, or what she would have received had she married an acceptable man, has been donated to charity.”

“To charity? Any idea to which one?”

“I can’t remember the name, but to the women opposing the vote. Isn’t it such a wonderful irony? Her defiance has led to the group she despised receiving a generous donation in the amount of her dowry.” Mrs. Sullivan cackled with malicious glee. “Mrs. Wright, Cameron’s mother, is a member of that group and took great joy in telling me the tale.”

“I do feel badly for Sean. I know how he doted on his only daughter by Agnes.” Matilda exhaled a long breath. “It’s a bit how Martin dotes on Savannah. For some reason, he believes that Jonas is overprotective of her.”

“Martin’s just being a concerned father. Sean was the same with Clarissa. In the end fathers must learn their daughters will do what they like without their permission.”

“Hmm … you may be right,” Matilda said. “Although why Martin would ever suspect Jonas of anything remotely nefarious is ludicrous.” Matilda shook her head in consternation.

“For some fathers, no man will ever be good enough for their daughters. Even with such an estimable man as Mr. Montgomery, your husband finds fault. I’m sure, with time, Mr. Montgomery’s true character will be seen, and Martin will have no cause for concern.”

***

SAVANNAH STUMBLED ON the cobblestone as she looked for the New England Home for Little Wanderers. She stood on a street corner with her back to an alley dimly lit in the afternoon sun. Across the street, three- and four-story brick buildings gleamed in the bright sunlight. Businesses from bakeries to locksmiths to cobblers to grocers lined the first floors of the street. The sounds of a baby crying, a heated argument in Italian and the faint strains of a violin solo drifted down from nearby upper-story windows. The smell of freshly baked bread competed with the scent of horse manure and other rubbish in the street.

“Excuse me,” she said to a stout woman dressed in black. “Could you …”

“No
Inglesi
,” the woman said in a thick accent as she bustled past Savannah.

Savannah glanced up and down Salem Street in the predominantly Italian North End of Boston, a street she had already traversed three times to no avail.

“What am I to do?” Savannah whispered to herself. She blinked away tears as she realized she would be unable to communicate with most of those walking past her.

“Ma’am?” a deep voice said. “Ma’am?”

Now a gentle hand to her arm.

“Are you lost?”

Savannah turned to find a tall, familiar-looking black-haired gentleman watching her with concern. “I know you, don’t I?” Savannah whispered.

“You are Mrs. McLeod’s cousin,” he said. “Clarissa’s cousin.” At her continued silence, he said, “I’m Jeremy McLeod. We met at your parents’ house last year.”

“Of course,” Savannah said. “Forgive me for not remembering right away.”

“Are you lost?” At her quick shake of her head in denial, Jeremy watched her with curiosity. “Are you searching for something?”

Savannah’s eyes filled with tears, and she began to shake. “Yes, something very dear to me.”

“Come. Let’s find a place where you can rest for a moment.” He gripped her arm and led her through a maze of narrow streets until he reached a small alley. At one of the entryways, he extracted a key, opened the door and ushered her inside.

“Oh, but this isn’t proper,” Savannah protested.

“I highly doubt fainting in the middle of a street would be proper either, ma’am,” Jeremy said. “Flo! We have company.” He continued to propel her down a darkened hallway.

Savannah blinked when she saw the sparse yet clean living area. Jeremy pulled out a scarred chair from the table and gently helped Savannah into it. “Sit before you fall down,” he muttered. “Flo, can you make tea?” He paced away toward the back window area, watching Savannah closely.

“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery,” Florence said. “I never thought to see you in my home.”

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” Savannah asked, as her eyes quickly roamed the room and its contents. Her eyes lit on the shelves filled with books, and she seemed to come out of a dazed stupor. “
Florence
. You were Clarissa’s friend. You were at my parents’ house last spring.” She then turned haunted sky-blue eyes to Jeremy. “And you are Gabriel’s brother.”

Jeremy nodded as he watched her from across the table.

“You have another brother,” Savannah said.

“Yes, Richard. My husband. He will be home soon from the forge,” Florence said, unable to hide the connubial contentment from her voice. She set a mug of tea in front of Savannah. “Richard, Jeremy and I live here in the home they used to share with Gabriel.”

“Do you think Clarissa is as happy as you?” Savannah whispered after she took a sip of sweetened tea. Florence blushed and nodded.

“I should hope so. If not, Gabe’s a damn fool,” Jeremy said as he joined them at the table.

“Don’t you know how Clarissa is?” Florence asked.

“I can’t remember if I’ve heard from her lately,” Savannah said. She saw Jeremy and Florence exchange a concerned glance.

“What do you mean? Either you received a letter or not,” Jeremy said.

“But that’s just it. I might have received a letter. And I might have responded. But I can’t remember,” Savannah said in a soft, anguished voice. “Until recently there’s so much I can’t remember.”

“Ma’am, what is it that brought you to the North End? I would think you’d have little cause to leave the Back Bay and its exalted environs,” Jeremy said.

“I hate the Back Bay,” Savannah muttered, then blushed.

Florence raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me for speaking out of turn.”

“There’s no one here to care how you speak, ma’am,” Jeremy said, still watching her intently.