Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four

by Ramona Flightner

  He reached forward, clasping her arm, his eyes filled with concern.

  “Don’t ask me again if I’m all right,” she hissed. “I’m fine and recovering well. There’s no reason for me not to be here.”

  She shrugged her arm, but, rather than release it, his grip firmed. She fought a desire to fidget as he studied her. “Why do you hide away who you really are?” he whispered.

  She shook her head in denial. “What did you mean about my father?”

  Teddy sighed in frustration at her reluctance to answer his question. “I wouldn’t think any father would approve of the vow that Mrs. Belmont wishes you to take.” He cast a spurious glance in Alva’s direction.

  “My father supports me in all I do.” Zylphia tilted up her chin in defiance. She started as Parthena and Rowena approached her, unnoticed.

  “Did you hear Mrs. Belmont, Zee?” Parthena asked with unbridled enthusiasm.

  Before Zylphia could respond, Teddy had melted into the crowd, and then Rowena spoke. “I think we should take her vow. We three should promise not to marry until women have the right to vote. What do you think?” She turned from Parthena to Zylphia.

  “I agree. No marriage for any of us until we have rights equal to that of men,” Parthena declared.

  “Although I like to believe that being granted the vote would also grant me equal rights, I’m far from delusional,” Sophie said as she joined their group, her scratchy voice filled with wry humor.

  “Zee?” Rowena asked.

  Zylphia nodded. “Yes, it’s our pact.”

  Sophie sighed. “You do realize that the woman advocating such a thing has already been divorced and remarried? It seems a strange thing to ask of women when it’s not something she’s willing to do herself.”

  “Alice Paul isn’t married,” Zylphia challenged.

  Sophie harrumphed before pinning her with a fierce gaze. “No, she isn’t. But I had greater hopes for you, my dear, that you were able to forge your own road.” She turned on her heel, her cane whacking innocent bystanders as she walked past in her agitated state.

  “Don’t listen to her, Zee,” Parthena urged.

  “She’s always provided great counsel to my cousins.” She watched Sophie’s retreating form with a frown.

  “Well, that’s for them. For us, we have each other.” Rowena linked arms with Parthena and Zylphia, leading them down the steps, across the lawn, to the edge of the cliff walk and away from the crowd near the elaborate Chinese tea house.

  “What more do you think we can do?” Parthena asked.

  “If you do more than attend a function like this, your father will disown you,” Rowena warned her.

  Zylphia ceased her own musings, turning with surprise at Rowena’s words. “Certainly you speak in jest?”

  “He barely tolerates my interest in music. He’d hardly condone such a terrible lapse in judgment,” Parthena said, mimicking her father’s tone.

  Zylphia reached forward, clasping her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not all are as fortunate as you to have a father proud of his daughter and willing to support her in all she does.” Rowena was unable to hide her envy or her bitterness. “At best, we are tolerated. At worst, we are seen as an expense until we are married off.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zylphia whispered.

  “If your father had six daughters like mine, maybe you would.” Parthena sniffed, breathing deeply of the salty air.

  Zylphia turned away to face the sea, imagining a family with siblings. Instead of a glowering, domineering father, her father would be joyous and full of pride. She closed her eyes for a moment, giving thanks for Aidan McLeod.

  15

  Boston, August 1913

  Zylphia wandered the reading room at the Boston Public Library as she awaited the arrival of her requested book. She knew pacing the area appeared unladylike, and she should sit, with hands stacked on top of each other and ankles crossed as she passed the time. However, a restless energy filled her, and she was unable to do anything but stride back and forth.

  She spun around to walk in the opposite direction, nearly running into another patron. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered, failing to look at the man as she moved to step around him.

  “Please do not bother yourself,” said a man, his voice deep and distantly familiar.

  She raised curious eyes and bit back a smile. “Mr. Goff! What are you doing here?” She flushed as he raised an eyebrow at her question while standing in the library.

  He held up a book. “I just checked out this book and wanted to read a few pages before heading home.” His gray eyes watched her with a keen intensity. “And you?”

  “Oh, waiting for my selection. I already know I’ll want to check it out, but it’s taking forever for them to find it.” Zylphia swayed in place. “I’m afraid I’m not a very patient person.”

  “Zylphia McLeod!” a loud voice rang out, and Zylphia jumped.

  “Oh, that’s me!” She reached out and gripped his arm for a minute before hastening toward the desk. She spoke with the librarian, smiling and laughing for a moment as she extracted her library card. When she finished, she turned toward Teddy, pointing to the exit with her head.

  He walked toward her, opening the door for her into the heavy, humid air of a hot late-August afternoon. He steered her to the shaded part of the street, any decrease of the oppressive heat an illusion.

  “I hate weather like today. I dream of a breeze that will blow all this away,” Zylphia said as they walked at a sedate pace.

  “Ah, but if we didn’t have days like today, we wouldn’t appreciate those perfect days.” Teddy moved in front of her, subtly shielding her from two men marching down the street, their voices lowered as they discussed business or politics.

  “I disagree. There were never days like this when I lived in San Francisco, and I didn’t enjoy the weather there any less.”

  “I will have to bow to your experience,” he said, giving her a mock tilt of his head. “What makes days like today bearable?”

  “Thinking of cool gray days, like the day we walked along the cliffs in Newport. I envision the breeze cooling me, the sound of the waves soothing me.” She sighed as she shook her head to clear the reverie.

  “I greatly enjoyed my time in Newport, much more than I expected,” he murmured. “I was disappointed to hear you were to depart before the end of the house party.”

  “Mrs. Chickering needed to leave, and, as she was my chaperone, I had to depart with her.” Zylphia smiled at him. “I thank you for your chivalry, as I know my absence was not mourned.”

  “Ah, that is where you are wrong, Miss McLeod. I never had my dance with you, and, for that alone, I might be enticed into Boston society.”

  Zylphia laughed as she skirted past a boy peddling ices, melting faster than he could sell them, his cart leaving a trail of water as he pushed it down the street. “Now I know you are teasing me.” She gripped his arm more tightly for a moment. “Is it true you are a recluse?”

  “No. I’m out on the streets of Boston, walking beside you right now.” She squeezed his arm again, prompting him to sigh. “No, I’m not a recluse, just quite selective of the company I choose to spend my time with. At society gatherings, I do not have the choice of who I will interact with.”

  “And yet you might meet fascinating people who become your friends.”

  “I can see you are an optimist, Miss McLeod.” He was silent a few moments. “The only event I’m glad I was convinced to attend was the house party in Newport.” He glanced down at her, the warmth in his eyes making her blush. “How is your ankle, Miss McLeod? I was saddened you departed before I was able to ascertain you had made a full recovery.”

  “I am quite well. I have no pain as I walk.” He nodded his agreement as she strode next to him with no evident discomfort. “I thank you for your concern.” She slowed as they approached her home. Trees yet to reach full maturity provided minimal shade as they wa
lked up her street, passing brick bow-fronted houses with small front gardens protected by wrought-iron fences.

  “Did you attend more suffragist meetings?”

  “Yes, I attended a tea with Sophie, and it was wonderful.” Her gaze was unfocused as she thought about that afternoon in Newport.

  “What made it wonderful? I would think sitting around and bemoaning what you don’t have rather tedious.”

  She shook her head in frustration. “That’s not how it was at all. We reviewed the recent march in Washington, DC, and the subsequent burst of public support for our cause. We discussed various fund-raising efforts and the continuous challenge to remain on the forefront of the nation’s conscience when so many other worthy causes are vying for attention. It was wonderful to be included and to have my voice heard.”

  “How do you plan to proceed?” Teddy stepped to the side to allow Zylphia to walk in front of him for a moment as the sidewalk narrowed. When they were shoulder to shoulder again, Zylphia slipped her gloved hand through his elbow.

  “I’m uncertain how, but I’m confident we will succeed. Especially when we have women such as Alice Paul, Anna Howard Shaw and others working together to ensure our success.”

  “I wish you success, although I fear it will take some time to change the minds of most Americans.” He glanced at Zylphia for a moment. “The only advice I’d give, as an outsider who is theoretically in favor of your cause, would be to avoid the use of the violence employed in England.”

  Zylphia turned to watch him a moment as he appeared lost in thought.

  “I have a cousin, with more money and time than sense, who became entranced with the suffragettes in England. At first we supported her and the cause. However, when they used violence—blowing up mailboxes and smashing windows—and afterward she was imprisoned and force-fed, our support waned.”

  “How is she now?” Zylphia asked.

  “Eugenie is a bit weaker, and my aunt fears she’ll never fully recover from her time in jail. I’m merely thankful she was not strong enough to be at that horserace that killed Emily Davison.” He shook his head as he thought of the suffragette who’d dashed onto a racetrack, was struck by the king’s horse and died from the injuries sustained a few months before in England during the Derby.

  “Had your cousin known her?” Zylphia asked.

  Teddy smiled wanly at her. “Vaguely. I think they met in jail. She was terribly upset and wrote me about her.” He sighed. “Thus I can see the merit to your cause, Miss McLeod. I merely hope you spare those who care for you, and the American people, such harrowing antics.”

  Zylphia nodded and motioned to a house across the street, a large four-storied corner-lot mansion with a mansard roof. The bricks shone in the bright midday sunlight while the front garden wilted under the unrelenting heat. Teddy walked across the street with Zylphia to her front door.

  “Will you attend the Wheeler soiree?” Teddy asked as Zylphia turned to enter her house. “They are old friends, and if I knew I could dance with you …”

  “I might.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as he watched her slip inside her home and out of sight.

  Teddy waited until the door closed behind her before he crossed the street and headed toward the Charles River, Cambridge and home.

  Zylphia sat with Rowena and Parthena in Parthena’s private sitting room painted a soothing rose color with cream-colored wainscoting covering the lower half of the walls. A small piano sat in one corner, and comfortable settees and ladies’ chairs formed two conversational areas. A fireplace lay dormant, and a vase filled with purple asters sat on the mantel. Clear curtains blunted the bright sunlight, and the open windows captured what breeze the day offered.

  Zee’s mind was not on her friend P.T.’s chatter about the proper way to obtain a man’s interest. Zylphia sighed, reenvisioning the previous night’s ball and her dances with Mr. Goff. The ballroom had had a romantic turn-of-the-century feel to it, as it was mainly lit by candle-filled candelabras. Electrical lights enhanced rather than overwhelmed the delicate candlelight, enriching the deep burgundy of the wallpaper. Twirling on the parquet dance floor, one side of the room lined by mirrors to enhance the sense of grandeur, Zylphia had felt as though she were royalty.

  She bit back a chuckle as she recalled Mr. Goff’s quick-witted humor, displayed only when they were alone. In a group, he became the taciturn, glowering man she’d first met in Newport. Now she sat with her friends, enjoying their teasing for having twice danced with the reclusive Mr. Goff.

  Rowena lay on a settee, her legs tucked alongside her. She waved a fan lazily in front of her face. As it was just the three of them, they were much more relaxed than usual. “I’d think you’d find Mr. Hubbard much more intriguing than the glowering Mr. Goff,” Rowena said.

  “All he does is stare at my bodice or comment on my dancing skills.” Zee snorted. “And you know they are deplorable. It’s as though he can’t reconcile himself with the reality that women are intelligent and can have their own opinions, independent of that of a man’s.” She glared at the still curtains as though conjuring a cooling breeze. “Teddy simply prefers to spend his time with his friends or closer acquaintances.”

  “Teddy?” Rowena asked, attempting unsuccessfully to quell her giggle.

  “He asked me to call him by his given name. I told him Theodore made him sound like a commodore in the British Navy, and he compromised.”

  “I imagine the conversation was much more interesting if you’re blushing about it,” Parthena teased.

  “It was nice to dance. To have someone pay attention to me for a change, rather than be a near-permanent fixture to the wall of the room.” Zylphia stroked a hand down her burgundy-colored skirt.

  “You know most men avoid you because they’re afraid you’ll convert them to your way of thinking. They believe you’re a radical woman intent on upending society as they know it,” Parthena said, any levity dissipating.

  “I know. But I’d rather they knew who I am now, rather than have them become shocked to realize I’m a suffragist.”

  “Or worse, believe your beliefs aren’t strongly felt and attempt to change you or them,” Rowena said. She took a sip of water from a glass next to the settee and fanned herself a bit more vigorously. “I’ve had suitors believe that the prospect of marrying them would be inducement enough to alter my beliefs.”

  Zylphia shuddered while Parthena chuckled, then focused on Zylphia again. “Zee, you are sly, but I’m not letting you evade discussing your apparent fascination with this Teddy.”

  Zylphia resettled her skirts and played with her fan, although she didn’t fan herself in a sophisticated, practiced manner like Rowena. Parthena squinted as she watched Zee, who was either attempting to find a more comfortable position or squirming in discomfort at P.T.’s question.

  “He’s a nice man. I like him.” Zylphia flushed and attempted to fling open her fan in an elegant manner as she’d seen Rowena do, instead smacking herself in the leg. She grunted in pain as her friends giggled.

  “Is he a suitor?” Rowena asked, slowly opening and closing her fan, demonstrating to Zylphia how to do it without bodily harm.

  “We’re friends. He actually listens when I speak and seems to care about my answers. He has a cousin in England who’s a suffragette, and he seems to support her and the cause. He made me laugh, rather than want to run away and hide, when I tripped over my feet dancing.” Zylphia shrugged her shoulders.

  “He sounds much more gallant than I would have expected from his reputation,” Parthena said. “Although we all know reputations are determined by those deemed popular and not by those with the most sense.”

  “At any rate, you can’t be friends with him, Zee.” Rowena frowned at Zylphia’s infantile attempts to use a fan. “Unmarried women of our class simply aren’t friends with men.”

  Zylphia dropped her fan and collapsed against the cushions on the settee. “At times like this I almost wish I were poor again.” At
her friends’ horrified gasps, she said, “At least then I knew what to do, how to act and who I could befriend.”

  A tense silence pervaded the room for a moment before she relaxed. “I’d never give up the opportunity of meeting my father. Of seeing my mother filled with such joy. Of having been able to travel a little. Of having the freedom to work on the causes that mean so much to me.” She paused for a moment. “But I no longer know where I belong in the world.”

  Rowena smiled as she tapped Zylphia gently on the knee with her fan. “If I know anything about you, Zee, it’s that you don’t back down from a challenge. I’m sure you’ll determine where you fit in this world of ours and will thrive.”

  16

  Missoula, Montana, October 1913

  Araminta picked up a framed photograph of Aidan with Delia and Zylphia, running a cloth over the frame and along the tabletop where it sat before setting it back down. She wore a kerchief over her thick sable hair, pulled back in a tight bun. An apron faded to dull gray with tattered edges covered her serviceable navy blue dress. She dusted the room, moving quietly through Aidan’s study. She did not startle as Delia entered but continued her quiet, efficient progress here.

  “Araminta, there you are,” Delia said, slightly out of breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She motioned for Araminta to put down the dusting cloth and join her in one of the comfortable chairs across from Aidan’s desk.

  Araminta settled, crossing her ankles and holding her hands in her lap, her anxiety belied only by a slight twitch at the corner of her left eye.

  Delia smiled, reaching forward to clasp her hands for a moment before releasing them. “Please don’t fret. There’s nothing the matter.”

  “Then why won’t you allow me to continue my chores, so I might move on to Savannah’s home?”

  “That’s just it, Minta. I think you are working too hard, keeping three or four houses running simultaneously while also caring for the children.” Delia exhaled deeply. “I wanted to speak with you before talking with the others.”