Clarissa smiled mirthlessly. “I doubt Jeremy would.”
“You’d be surprised. He’s feeling more like the eldest brother as Gabriel has fallen apart.” Savannah’s sky-blue eyes shone with her worry. “I want you to know you can depend on me, no matter what you decide.”
“Zylphia!”
“Jeremy,” Zylphia called out as she spun to face him. She walked toward him with her long stride, her jade silk evening dress swinging around her ankles and clinging to her hips. A black velvet cape at her shoulders provided minimal warmth on the cool early March evening. She wore her raven hair pulled back in the fashionable Gibson-girl style, while her blue eyes flashed with confusion as her cousin ceased pacing the lobby of the hotel. Over six feet tall, Jeremy towered above her five-foot-eight frame. “Why are you here, rather than with Savannah?”
“Because we didn’t know where you were, and, as my wife wasn’t threatened in that damned march, we decided I could keep watch for our errant cousin.” He clasped her shoulders, his bright green eyes flashing their irritation. “Where have you been?”
She grinned at him when she sensed he wanted to give her a good shake but refrained. “I was at the after-parade party at the DAR’s Continental Hall. It was extraordinary. I met so many wonderful women, and I even glimpsed Carrie Chapman Catt!”
“I can’t imagine there was much to celebrate,” Jeremy said with a glower.
“On the contrary, many of the leaders present believed that the actions by the women today, and the barbaric reactions of the drunken men, will help propel our cause in gaining the public’s sentiments. There was even a call for a congressional investigation as to why we weren’t better protected.” She beamed at Jeremy. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”
“Who would ever celebrate your fellow suffragists being sorely abused and unprotected?” Jeremy groaned at Zylphia’s unrelenting optimism as he led her to a pair of chairs in the opulent lobby, where they both sat. He stretched out his long legs and flicked his fingers over the navy fabric of his suit coat. “Why didn’t you return here first and inform us of your plans?”
“I did return, but no one was here. Besides, I thought everyone would be at the party, so why bother leaving a note when we’d meet up anyway?” Her blue eyes shone with sincerity.
Jeremy squinted as he studied her, sensing her cunning. “You’re as much a McLeod as I am, thus just as capable of mischief. You know your father wanted one of us with you always whenever you left the hotel.”
“Why would he possibly think I’d need a chaperone? I’m old enough.” Zylphia attempted one of Sophie’s harrumphs but fell short in the execution, sounding more like she was clearing her throat. She saw Jeremy bite his lip as though he understood what she’d tried and failed.
“I would think after the chaos of today’s march, you’d understand your father’s concern for you and his desire to see you safe.” Jeremy’s gentle scold provoked a soft blush on Zylphia’s cheeks.
“Washington, DC, isn’t any more dangerous than Boston, and I’ve been roaming Boston alone for years.” Her gaze was calculating when she watched Jeremy. “Did cousin Savannah always have a chaperone every time she visited you before you married?”
“No, although she should’ve had one with her maniacal husband on the loose.” Jeremy’s jaw tightened, a sign he was either agitated or fighting a smile. “Listen, Zee, you’re not getting out of a scold. Not this time.”
“Fine, scold me, and then let’s find something to eat. I’m famished.” She slumped against the back of her chair in an unladylike fashion, watching her cousin in feigned boredom.
Jeremy coughed, and began a five-minute lecture on propriety and following a parent’s instructions. He ended with “Your father’s wish to see you with a chaperone, to see you safe, is just one of the many ways he shows you how much he cherishes you.”
Zylphia smiled and sat up straight. “That was a fine scold. You’ve become more proficient with them these past few days. I’m glad I’ve been good practice for you when you’ll need them for Melly in the future.”
Jeremy laughed out loud and rose, offering his arm to Zylphia. “Let’s find you some dinner, and you can regale me with tales of that party.”
“I know Father had hoped my coming here would, in some way, lessen my desire to become such an active participant in this movement. Instead it’s fueled my desire to become an ever-greater part of it.”
“I know Uncle will only want for you to be content. If I know Uncle at all, he’ll be enormously proud of what you want to accomplish. Just as he was when he attended your graduation from Radcliffe.”
“I wish now I’d studied something other than English literature. I desire to know more about government policy and how to enact change.” She paused as she ordered dinner, and Jeremy asked for a cup of coffee.
“God help us if you were any more adept,” Jeremy muttered. “None of us would be safe from your plots to change the world.”
“I only have energy for the women’s movement.”
“For now. When you’ve accomplished this goal, you’ll find something else.” He smiled his thanks to the waiter and took a small sip of his coffee. “Unless, of course, you decide to do something truly conventional, like marry.”
Zylphia glared at him for a moment before laughing. “You know that I’ve never envisioned myself married with children.”
He watched her intently, and she struggled not to squirm under his scrutiny as he said, “I’ve heard how you are with Richard’s boys, how you dote and relish your time with them. Besides, I can’t imagine you wish to go through life alone.”
Zylphia flushed and played with her silverware, before tracing a finger along the starched white tablecloth. “There’s a joy in knowing I can leave for the quiet of my own house while they have to remain in the chaos of their home.”
“Zee.” He raised an eyebrow, refusing to be waylaid by her attempt at levity.
“I find it nearly impossible to imagine having what you and Savannah have. What any of your brothers have. I don’t think it’s meant to be for me.”
“You’re quite young to decide you are against marriage forever,” Jeremy teased. “Besides, didn’t Uncle mention you were to have some sort of foray into society?”
“Yes, I’m to learn what I can from Sophie and a few of my friends before I join them at a house party in Newport this summer.” Her eyes sparkled with her delight. “I’m hoping to make contacts that will help the movement.”
Jeremy laughed. “Or you could enjoy yourself. You never know who you’ll meet.” He laughed again at her frown, nodding as her meal was served.
“Can you see one of those society men interested in me? I have no graces. I speak before thinking, and I fear I’ll never learn to dance well.”
“If your worst fear is that you don’t waltz, I think you’ll do just fine.” He took another sip of his coffee as he watched Zylphia devour part of her dinner. “And, for what it’s worth—as I’m your cousin, and I know my opinion doesn’t count—any of those men would be fortunate to have a woman such as you in their lives.”
Zylphia flushed at his compliment before turning the conversation to Savannah’s and his adopted daughter, Melinda—Clarissa’s and Colin’s much younger half-sister by their father and his second wife. The older siblings persisted in calling their stepmother Mrs. Smythe as a sign of disrespect. At their father’s death in 1902, their stepmother had placed Melinda in an orphanage. However, Colin had rescued his youngest sister and brought her to live with him while he remained in Boston after his father’s funeral. When he decided to return to Montana in the spring of 1903, Jeremy and Savannah had joined him on the journey. During the train travel west from Boston to Missoula, Savannah and Jeremy had begun to consider Melinda their daughter and had raised her as such for the past ten years.
“We had a letter today from Araminta, who’s minding the children while we are away. She said they’re all doing well, although Melly misses us a
nd her siblings, and wants us to return.”
“I imagine she’s jealous she wasn’t able to travel with you.”
“We didn’t want her to miss so much school,” Jeremy said. “Although I realize now that might have been an error. She would have learned a tremendous amount traveling here.”
“You have the resources to travel with ease, Jeremy,” Zylphia said with a wry turn of her lips.
“Yes, but Savannah and I decided that Melinda’s education is what is most important. We want her to have every opportunity available to her.”
“Which is the reason you support women obtaining the vote.”
“Partially. I support it because I believe in Savannah.” His eyes became distant, almost haunted. “I want her, and women like her, to have more rights when it comes to their lives. I know the vote won’t change everything overnight, but I hope it will lead to an eventual transformation as to how we view women.”
“That’s quite advanced, cousin,” Zylphia teased.
Jeremy shook his head. His sober countenance caused Zylphia to blush at her attempt at levity. “You didn’t see her. Battered and soul weary from the treatment inflicted upon her by her first husband.” He raised defiant, mutinous eyes. “When women have the vote, their concerns will be heard. Their abuse will no longer be brushed aside.”
Zylphia clasped his hand. “I’m sorry for teasing you, Jeremy. Forgive me.”
He sighed, the tension dissipating as the air left him. “Forgive me for becoming too serious. As you can see, everyone has a different reason for wanting to join this movement.”
Zylphia toyed with her silverware a minute before asking in a halting voice, “How did you coax Savannah into trusting you? I’d think she’d have remained an unmarried woman rather than place her faith in any man after what she suffered with her first husband.”
“With time and patience, she learned that not all men were like him.” He smiled with fondness as he thought about the months he and Savannah had shared that led to their unique courtship. “I had to be patient, and she learned that I needed her as much as she could need me.”
Zylphia rested against the back of her chair, lost in thought.
“You’re too young to settle for a cause as your bedmate, Zee. Be patient.” Jeremy winked at her and then sobered as he murmured, “Be brave.”
The door creaked open, causing Jeremy to cringe and dispelling any hope for a stealthy entrance. A small lit lamp cast long shadows on the walls and the bed. Savannah stirred under the cream-colored coverlet, and he grimaced. “Forgive me for waking you, my love,” he whispered as he changed out of his clothes.
“I meant to remain awake, but I was so sleepy.” She leaned up on one elbow, her rumpled strawberry-blond hair cascading over one shoulder in a long, disheveled braid. “Did you find her?”
“As you suspected, she attended the party alone.”
“I know you worry, but she is almost twenty-six. Besides, she was with a group of women.” Savannah yawned as she reached out an arm to Jeremy.
“Women who were attacked on the march today. The streets remain filled with rowdy drunken men intent on mischief.”
“Which, of course, you noticed outside while you were pacing in the lobby,” Savannah said with warm humor lacing her voice. “Come to bed, my darling. It’s been a long day.” She lay on her side, waiting to snuggle into Jeremy’s embrace.
He climbed under the covers, eliciting a shiver from Savannah as he tugged her into his arms, cradling her blanket-warmed body against him. He stroked a hand up and down her bare arm.
“How are you, my love?” he asked as he kissed the back of her head.
A stuttering sigh was his only response.
“I know it bothered you not being with your family today when they took to the streets.”
“You know as well as I do that I wasn’t strong enough for that,” she whispered.
Jeremy heard her breath catch.
“Besides,” she continued, “with what happened, … I wouldn’t have made it to the end of the parade route.”
Jeremy frowned as he felt the slight trembling of her body as she fought tears. “Talk to me, please, Savannah.”
“I am filled with such a nearly … unutterable … rage.”
Jeremy’s quiet acceptance of her words, the persistent soft stroke of his hand over her arm, encouraged her to continue.
“And a sadness that seems boundless.”
Jeremy coaxed her onto her back, stroking away silent tears, gazing with intense sincerity into her eyes. “Why the rage?” He bit back the question he most wanted to ask.
“At fate.” She swallowed back a whimper. “At what I can’t have.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, before asking, “With me?” He felt Savannah soften in his arms and opened his eyes to meet her gaze, filled with a mixture of revelation, self-recrimination and wonder.
“Never with you.” She stroked his cheek. “Every moment with you is a gift, Jeremy. I never knew I could be so fortunate as to meet a man like you. And to have a man such as you love me. I hate the limitations imposed on us by our recent loss and my slow recovery.”
“When you almost died this last time”—he broke off as his eyes filled with tears—“I just can’t lose you, my Savannah. Nothing, not making love with you, not even a baby, is worth that.” He met her eyes with a pleading desperation. “Please tell me that you understand.”
“I know we have Melinda, but I still yearn for more,” Savannah whispered, leaning up and burying her face in the crook of his neck. “A little boy with your eyes, my smile and a mixture of my impulsiveness and your good sense.”
“Ah, my love.” Jeremy cradled her face between his palms, knowing she dared never to dream for another daughter after losing her daughter Hope. “How could we want for more? We have a beautiful daughter in Melly. A wonderful home in Missoula, near Clarissa and Gabe. You have causes you promote, and I have my work. What more could we want?”
“Rationally I know what you say is true.”
“But the heart’s not rational,” Jeremy murmured, a deep love and understanding in his voice. “No matter what you want, no matter how I wish to give you your heart’s desire, I can’t bear to risk your life with another pregnancy.”
Savannah stifled a sob and nodded. “I know. I understand. And a part of me, the part that clawed back from the brink of death after the last miscarriage, is relieved.”
After a few moments while Jeremy held Savannah in his arms, stroking a hand over her head, her back, her arms, he felt her relax. “And the other part?”
“Continues to mourn the dream.”
“It’s nothing we can’t face together, darling.” Jeremy released a contented sigh as Savannah snuggled into his arms.
3
Clarissa sat at the table in Sophie’s suite, sipping a cup of tea. Bright light streamed in through the curtain-free windows, casting a warm glow on the gold and green flowered rug. She perused the morning’s newspaper, shaking her head in disgust as she read an editorial criticizing the women for marching. She flipped the page, featuring a picture of Inez Milholland on her white horse, and read the account of the violent march. She glowered as the reporter cast blame on the women marchers for enticing the men into acting in such a manner, although the reporter admitted that the men forced their way past the erected barricade.
Even though she’d lived through it, she shivered when reading how over one hundred women needed medical care after the march. Dozens remained hospitalized or incapacitated in some way. The varying calls for the return to a traditional home and values equaled that of the outrage voiced at the treatment of the women on the march. Calls for a congressional investigation were strong, although one opined his belief that the women who marched should expect no deferential treatment if they desired to move into the political realm.
Clarissa focused on a small notice of President-Elect Wilson’s arrival in Washington the previous day. Her glower transformed int
o a smile as she read of his disgruntled realization that no crowds greeted his arrival because they were watching the women’s march. “I hope this will help him understand the importance of our cause,” she murmured as she flipped to another page.
She grimaced as she read about the disastrous sinking of a British passenger ship, the Calvados, sunk during a storm in the Marmara Sea near Istanbul, where all two hundred passengers perished. “So terrible.” She momentarily thought of losing her family in such a way, but her mind shied away from such a tragedy. Losing one child had been painful enough. She couldn’t imagine any harm coming to her three living children.
“Are you ready, dear?” Sophie asked as she emerged from her room. She raised an eyebrow at Clarissa’s downcast expression.
“Of course. I was reading about the disaster in Turkey.” She folded the paper and held out the article for Sophie to scan.
“Poor wretches,” Sophie said. “Although I can’t imagine anyone desirous of visiting that part of the world.” She thunked her cane. “Come. We are meeting the others in the lobby, and I refuse to lose our seats along the inauguration route due to any dillydallying.”
Clarissa smiled and rose. Her woolen sage-green dress highlighted her trim figure, chestnut hair and the bruise blooming on her cheek.
“I’m thankful you did not use any of those horrid so-called beauty products on your face to conceal your injury.” She paused in the doorway to look at Clarissa’s face. “It’s coloring as I’d hoped it would.”
“Sophie, how can you be pleased at my mistreatment?”
“I’m not. However, seeing as you were abused, it seems only proper you stand front and center of our group as we greet our new president. He should see what the actions of so-called gentlemen have wrought.” She spun, her cane thunking with her determination as she strode down the carpeted hallway toward the elevator.
“Sophie!” Clarissa sputtered. Others were present in the elevator, preventing Clarissa from speaking freely. As the elevator stopped at each floor and filled, pleasantries were exchanged by those who boarded. Clarissa hid a flinch each time a stranger gawked at her bruise, tilting up her chin with false bravado.
Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four Page 3
