Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (6 page)

“How, how …” Savannah stammered, as she stared after Jonas.

“A bully rarely knows what to do when one stands up to him,” Sophronia said with a small, satisfied smile.

“Please, I will ring for tea,” Savannah said but was forestalled by Sophronia moving toward the sitting room door and shutting it.

“I have no need for tea. And my dressmaker will despair if I eat many more tea cakes,” Sophronia said with a long sigh. She sat on a stiff-backed chair and grimaced with distaste. “This is as uncomfortable as it is ugly.”

“Yes, well, Jonas wanted a distinctive-looking room,” Savannah murmured.

“Pompous and overbearing in an attempt to proclaim his importance, even in your private sitting room,” Sophronia said censoriously. She studied Savannah, and her expression softened. “Savannah, you look terrible.”

“I know I’ve never met you. Why should you take an interest in me? How do you know how I normally look?” Savannah shook her head in confusion.

Sophronia examined her from head to foot, looking increasingly worried. “You are becoming emaciated. Your skin has no luster, and your eyes have no sparkle. If you are anything like my girl Clarissa, you used to sparkle.”

“Clarissa,” Savannah whispered.

“Yes, Clarissa. She has been very worried about you, especially when she has received no word from you for months. And then your aunt Betsy wrote me of your recent visit to her lovely home in Quincy. Made me postpone my usual sojourn to Newport. I had to come and see for myself how you were faring.”

“You know Aunt Betsy?”

“Of course. We traveled to Minneapolis together last spring with Clarissa to the NAWSA convention for the suffragists. Wonderful time we had together. Although I’m afraid our enthusiasm for the cause was momentarily overshadowed by Clarissa’s hasty departure for Montana.

“Thus, when I received letters from two of my favorite people, and I don’t have many of them,” Sophronia said with a raised eyebrow and a mocking half smile, “I knew I needed to determine for myself how you were. I will be disappointed to write them you are not well. Not well at all.”

“Please, Mrs. Chickering, you mustn’t exert yourself on my account. I chose—”

“I highly doubt anyone would believe this is the life you imagined for yourself. Locked away in a stifling second-floor sitting room, dreaming of what life might have been. Your life has barely begun!”

“I can’t …” Savannah whispered.

“Can’t bear to see reality? Can’t bear to realize that you were a fool when you let your miserly, narrow-minded grandparents manipulate you into a marriage with one such as your husband?”

“You know them?”

“Of course. And, no, we do not get along.” Sophronia
harrumphed
. “I have the misfortune of meeting them at social outings. I take great comfort in always grating on their nerves with my impolitic comments.”

“They must have disapproved of your friendship with Clarissa.”

Sophronia laughed. “Ah, they did. But then they never truly cared what Clarissa did. They looked upon her and saw a failure. Someone not worth their notice.”

Savannah flushed and lowered her eyes. “I wish they had gifted me the same consideration.”

“Well then, what are you to do?” Sophronia asked. “I can’t imagine this is how you want to continue.” She watched Savannah closely as she remained mute. “As I see it, you have two options. Continue to live a miserable existence and die an early death, or decide you want more from life.”

“You make it sound very simple,” Savannah snapped, a flush lighting her cheeks.

“If you don’t sound like Clarissa,” Sophronia said with a chuckle as she thought about Savannah’s cousin. “She said much the same when circumstances forced her to make difficult choices. Life’s hardest decisions are rarely simple, and sometimes they are made for us by a cruel fate. However, sometimes we must make our fate.”

Savannah looked away, uncertain what to say. “I don’t have that strength. Or the courage,” she whispered.

Sophronia
harrumphed
again but then leaned over and clasped Savannah’s hands. “Of course you do. But first you must decide what you want. And what you are willing to forego to obtain it.” Sophronia watched Savannah with passion-filled aquamarine eyes, as though daring her to dream for more from her life.

“I must leave. And I hope someday soon you will follow me. This is the address of my residence in Boston. I will soon journey to Newport, but I always leave a full staff at my residence here. I will be sure to inform them of your”—she raised an eyebrow—“impending arrival.” Sophronia handed Savannah her card.

Savannah sputtered. “Mrs. Chickering, you presume too much! I … I …”

“You what, dear? You could never leave your husband? And why is that? Because he treats you with such respect and consideration?” She patted Savannah on the hand and rose. “Good-bye, my dear. I will see you soon.”

***

“JEREMY!” FLORENCE GASPED as she flung open the door and entered the workshop. “Jeremy!”

“Flo, what is it?” he asked, turning to face her. She paused, trying to catch her breath, waving a piece of paper. “This just arrived. Delivered by a maid.”

“A maid? Who do we know with a maid?” he asked in confusion before whispering, “Savannah,” and grabbing the letter out of Florence’s hand.

Dear Florence,

Please forgive my presumption in writing you. I have no one else whom I can trust.

Oh, what to say! I fear for my safety. I fear that Jonas will finally make good on his threats and harm me irreparably. He was very angry with me tonight for being away from the house, although he thought I’d only visited my parents.

Please forgive me for writing. I know there is nothing anyone can do for me. I married him and must accept this fate. If I am absent for a while, I wanted you to know it is due to my husband’s dictates.

Savannah

Jeremy lowered the letter, staring at Florence in horror. “What in God’s name does she mean by saying she fears for her safety? She fears he will harm her irreparably?”

“I don’t know, Jeremy. I didn’t know what to do when I read that letter. I couldn’t sit at home, waiting for you and Richard to return tonight, and I know Richard’s new foreman has little patience for wives when they visit.”

“We must go to her,” Jeremy said.

“Like this?” Florence asked, waving at her ratty dress and Jeremy’s dusty, worn clothes. “We have no business in the Back Bay.”

Jeremy paced, picking up pieces of wood and setting them down again. “She can’t be forced to live in a place where all she knows is fear.” The anguish in his voice tore at Florence.

“Jeremy, it isn’t up to us to save her.”

“Isn’t that what she is asking us to do?” he asked as he twirled away from the workbench to face Florence. “Isn’t she begging, in her aristocratic, so-sorry-to-bother-you way, for help?”

Florence nodded reluctantly. “But what are we to do?”

“Have you ever met him?” At Florence’s blank stare, Jeremy said, “The bastard husband. Have you ever met him?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.”

“I’ve only met Cameron. Not this Jonas. He wouldn’t know who we are.”

“Although we couldn’t use the McLeod name. He’d recognize that after Clarissa’s scandal.”

Jeremy began to pace. “We’ll use my mother’s maiden name, Sanders. He won’t have heard that in relation to Clarissa. Let’s go home, clean up and go to her house.”

“We don’t know where she lives, Jeremy.”

“There can only be so many Jonas Montgomerys who live in the Back Bay. Someone will tell us.”

CHAPTER 6

SAVANNAH SAT IN A DAZE in her upstairs sitting room after Sophronia left. She had never imagined such a woman would come to her aid. Could she really leave Jonas? Savannah glanced around the room, taking in the large mirror, the pale-gray silk-covered walls with filigree highlights and the sumptuous furniture. She closed her eyes as she imagined walking away from this luxury. It was everything she had been taught to value. And yet, as she opened her eyes to take in the room again, she could not remember one moment’s worth of happiness in this room. Not until Sophronia presented her card, offering her freedom.

There was a moment’s warning before her sitting room door was flung open. “Jonas!” Savannah sputtered as she took in his enraged countenance. “Have your meetings for the afternoon concluded?”

“I canceled the rest. I found that I needed to deal with a pesky domestic issue.”

“Has one of the maids spilled claret on the rug again?” Savannah asked. She kept her voice calm and refrained from gripping her hands together, although she was unable to prevent tensing involuntarily as he stalked toward her.

“No, my sweet, it has to do with an errant wife and her unfortunate liaisons. How dare you have a friend such as Mrs. Chickering? She is an abomination to womanhood, and I am ashamed to learn my mother associated with her. It makes her no better than your cousin, Clarissa.”

“Jonas, I did not know her before today. I had no idea she would call,” Savannah protested in an attempt to soothe him.

“Why did she come?”

“She is friends with Aunt Betsy and wanted to make my acquaintance.”

He leaned down and gripped her arms, half lifting her from the chair. “Why now, Savannah?”

“Aunt Betsy was worried about me after I visited with her in Quincy last month. I haven’t written her since my return, and she wanted her friend to call on me and see how I fared.”

Jonas roared as he threw her back into her chair. He then slapped her so hard across the face, she fell onto the rug. Savannah recoiled, bringing up her hands to her cheek to guard against further attack. She turned onto her belly, attempting to crawl behind an overstuffed chair.

“How dare your family gossip about the goings-on of your marriage?” he hissed as he leaned over her, reaching down to hold her shoulder and keep her in place. “I know I should expect no better from a shopkeeper’s daughter, but I had hoped you had learned some refinement from your grandparents.”

“No. No, please!” Savannah begged as she curled into a ball. His booted foot connected with her shin but missed her belly.

“I will teach you about the proper public persona you must always don.” He clasped her arms and dragged her to a standing position. Savannah struggled, trying to break free from his merciless grasp. She gasped as his fingers dug into her arms.

Suddenly Savannah was dropped to the floor with a thud as Jonas flew backward and crashed into an ornate bookcase. She backed into the side of the settee, her knees pulled up to her chest as tears poured down her cheeks.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” a menacing voice hissed as another loud
thwack
sounded of a fist meeting bone.

Savannah heard Jonas groan weakly while she sat huddled on the floor, shaking. She whimpered when strong arms picked her up, and soon she was moving from the sitting room, down the stairs and out the front door.

“Sir! Sir!” her maid, Mary, yelled as she ran after them down the sidewalk. “Take this,” and she handed him a bag so jammed full of clothes it could not be closed.

“Mary,” Savannah whispered as she flung out an arm to grasp her hand.

“You’re her maid.”

Savannah recognized Florence’s voice.

“You will come with us. If you return to the house, he will harm you. Come!”

The man holding Savannah maneuvered them into a carriage. “Ma’am, are you all right?” Savannah relaxed fully when she recognized Jeremy’s voice.

“Mr. McLeod,” she said. “How did you know to come?”

“I received your letter today. Mary delivered it. We became frantic with worry and wanted to ensure you were well,” Florence said, as she leaned over to stroke Savannah’s forehead.

“Where are we going?” Savannah whispered.

“To my dragon lady friend. She’s a fellow suffragist, a friend of Clarissa’s and mine, and not one to be trifled with. She’ll not allow anything to happen to you,” Florence said.

Savannah shook at the realization that she was safe.

“Shh, ma’am, you’ll be all right,” Jeremy crooned into her ear as he caressed her back, soothing her. He continued to hold her protectively on his lap.

Upon their arrival at a row house on Beacon Street across from the Boston Common, Florence walked toward the door and banged on the knocker a few times.

“Flo, I hardly doubt anyone who lives here expects the likes of us to call,” Jeremy said as he stared at the imposing bow-fronted brick home with green shutters beside all its windows. The white trim around the door gleamed in the bright sunlight, as did the brass knocker on the door.

“Nonsense. I’m good friends with her,” Florence said, and Savannah, carried in the sure arms of Jeremy McLeod, saw Florence greet the butler with familiarity.

“Ah, Mrs. McLeod, a pleasure to see you again. Please allow me to inquire if Mrs. Chickering is receiving this afternoon.”

“Please inform her that Mrs. Montgomery is with us and is injured. She may require a doctor.” The butler nodded imperiously and made his slow ascent upstairs, refraining from touching the gleaming mahogany banister. Florence entered the front hall, nodding for Jeremy to follow her inside.