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

by Ramona Flightner

  Upon their arrival, Parthena and Rowena were already in the luxurious box. Scallop-shaped light fixtures infused a gentle light throughout the space, while the rich red velvet fabric, mahogany wood of the seats and the gold-filigreed wallpaper added to the sense of elegance. Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Tindall moved to welcome the newcomers and signaled a waiting attendant for glasses of champagne.

  “Do you know much about this opera, Goff?” Morgan Wheeler asked as he glanced into the cavernous opera house.

  “No, although it must be popular as it seems to have sold out,” Teddy said, nodding to the rapidly filling seats below.

  “It’s Madame Butterfly. Of course it would sell out. It’s a masterpiece,” Parthena said with unveiled exasperation.

  “Have you seen it before, Miss Tyler?” Morgan asked her.

  “I have, in New York City at the Metropolitan.”

  “I imagine it was much grander there than here,” Teddy said with an amused raise of his eyebrows.

  She laughed. “You’d be surprised. The stage here is just as big as the one there, if not larger. And the acoustics here are glorious.” She sighed with pleasure as the sounds of the orchestra tuning melded with the cacophony of myriad voices within the hall.

  “I’d forgotten. You fancy yourself as something of a musician,” Morgan said, his mouth turned up in what could be interpreted as either a teasing smile or an attempt to hide a sneer.

  Parthena glared at him. “I greatly enjoy music, yes. I play the piano.”

  “Your mother should have a recital of sorts for you someday,” Morgan said, earning a snicker from Owen, who, while standing next to Zylphia and caressing her arm at frequent intervals, failed to pay full attention to her conversation with Rowena.

  “I’m sure it would delight all present to hear you perform,” Teddy said, earning a nod of approval from Zylphia, whose group had become silent.

  The lights dimmed for the second time, and they settled, with Rowena, Mr. Tindall, Owen and Zylphia sitting in the front of the box. Behind them, Parthena and Morgan sat in stilted silence, while Teddy settled next to a vacant seat.

  As the lights dimmed, Teddy took a deep breath, watching the stage, while surreptitiously noting Zylphia’s reaction to the opera. He fisted his hand as Owen patted her arm at a haunting aria, noting the sheen of tears Zylphia fought. When they reached the first intermission, Teddy rose with the intent of escorting Zylphia for a refreshment, only to find Owen leading her out.

  “You’ll have to be more cunning if you want to head that one off,” Parthena murmured as she brushed by Teddy. She took Morgan’s elbow with a sniff and followed in her friend’s wake. Teddy, the last to leave the box, watched as Zylphia placed distance between her and Owen, even though she walked with her arm through his. Teddy stopped near their group as he watched the other groups mingling around him.

  “Why the long face, Goff? It’s not as though you were ever truly interested in the McLeod girl. She’s an oddity but a wealthy one at that,” Morgan said as they watched Owen tease a smile from her. “Besides, there’s much that a man would countenance to obtain access to Aidan McLeod’s influence.”

  “I thought he’d care that she’s a suffragist,” Teddy murmured.

  “Come. Women think they believe such nonsense until they can be persuaded otherwise. I’m sure Owen, with his charm and standing in society, will prove to be much more interesting than any social cause.”

  “Do any of you know her? Know her friends and what they believe in?” Teddy asked, his jovial tone underlaid with a hint of steel.

  “Parthena believes she can defy her father, but she’ll soon learn that’s not the case. Besides, marriage to a respectable man is a far less onerous future than many I could think of for her.” He watched Parthena speculatively.

  “Do you mean you?” Teddy asked, choking on his drink. “She can’t stand you.”

  “A minor hiccough we’ll overcome. She fails to remember the good aspects of our youth together.”

  “You mean, she only remembers when you were a beast to her,” Teddy said with a wry grin.

  “Exactly,” Morgan said with a laugh as he slapped Teddy on the shoulder. “Forget Miss McLeod. Owen has set his sights on her, and he’ll stop at nothing to have her.” He eased to move away from Teddy.

  “Why?” Teddy demanded, stepping in front of him and preventing him from joining Mr. Tindall and Rowena.

  “An alliance with Aidan McLeod would only benefit him. Or any of us. But especially the Hubbards.”

  “Why?” Teddy asked again, sifting through the recent gossip he’d heard about the Hubbards. He shook his head in frustration to realize he should have paid greater attention to his mother’s prattling.

  “Not all emerged as unscathed from the Panic of ’07 as they’d like you to believe,” Morgan murmured as he sidestepped Teddy to join Parthena, Rowena and Mr. Tindall with a chuckle and a joke.

  Upon returning to the box, their group took their same seats. Teddy watched Zylphia, although he now knew that Parthena was aware of his interest in Zylphia. During one particularly haunting aria, where the heroine sang of her dream to reunite with her husband, he saw Zylphia take a stuttering breath and bite her lip. A moment later, tears coursed down her cheeks. Teddy stiffened when he saw Owen swipe away her tears with a handkerchief, and then Teddy clenched his teeth as she clasped Owen’s arm for a moment.

  When the lights came on for the second intermission, Teddy rose, following close on the heels of Zylphia and Owen. He stifled a growl as he saw Owen’s hand linger longer than it should at the small of Zylphia’s back before moving to brush her arm. Teddy approached them, hearing the tail end of their conversation.

  “I’d think she’d understand he’s never coming back to her,” Owen said.

  “It’s unutterably sad that she’ll be deceived by him,” she said.

  “Not all men act in such dishonorable ways. Although there are many men who leave on ships, who fail to return.” Owen watched her with a speculative look in his eyes.

  Zylphia stiffened and refused to comment.

  “Give me a chance to prove to you that I am a different sort of man, Zylphia. Let me show you the fervency of my admiration.”

  “Men were deceivers ever,” Teddy muttered as he approached them.

  Zylphia heard him and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’d be fascinated to know what you plan to show her as your demonstration of such fervency.”

  Owen glared at him. “Goff, your pathetic attempts at humor are wearing thin.”

  “Miss McLeod,” Teddy said as he turned to her. “Aren’t you curious about what Mr. Hubbard means?”

  “I’m warning you, Goff,” Owen hissed.

  “And I’m warning you that you’d better only ever treat her in an honorable fashion.” His voice came out in a low growl, and his eyes were as flint behind his glasses. He gripped his hands at his sides as though preparing for battle.

  In an instant the two men were toe-to-toe, with Zylphia watching on. “This is ridiculous,” Zylphia hissed. “You’re causing a scene.” She pushed at Teddy’s shoulder, barely budging him. “Teddy, stop this.”

  He flicked a glance toward her, a flash of confusion and pain in his eyes before focusing again on Owen. Rather than backing away, he took a step forward as Owen leaned into him.

  “Stop it, both of you. There’s no reason to act like boors.” She put a hand out to each of their chests to separate them further and to prevent them from coming to blows.

  “She’s not yours to guard, Tedd,” Owen said.

  Teddy flushed, his breaths stuttering from him as Owen taunted Teddy under his breath about his bookish ways, his inferior looks, his dependence on glasses, his lack of social graces. When Owen saw Zylphia’s attention was otherwise engaged, motioning to Mr. Wheeler, he said, “You’re a fool to think a woman like Zylphia would want you.”

  Zylphia had glanced away, looking for some sort of aid. When she turned to watch the two men
again, she gasped with horror to see Teddy landing a forceful blow to Owen’s jaw. The resounding smack caught the attention of nearby operagoers.

  “Teddy, no!” She gripped his arm, preventing a further escalation of their argument.

  He stilled under her touch and backed up a step. “I’d never mean to harm you, Miss McLeod,” he said, his breath coming out in agitated pants. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You should be asking it of Mr. Hubbard,” she hissed, her blue eyes lit with anger.

  Morgan slipped between the two men, forcing Zylphia to the periphery and toward her friends. His presence effectively ended the brewing brawl, although the resentment and anger lingered. “Why don’t you go home?” he whispered to Teddy. “I’ll ensure Miss McLeod arrives home without incident. We’ll travel with Miss Tyler, so there will be no whisper of impropriety.”

  Teddy nodded, noting Zylphia was firmly ensconced with her friends, the two women forming a wall in front of her and curious gazes. Parthena glared at him and shook her head, as though with disappointment.

  Teddy bowed slightly toward Zylphia and her friends before turning on his heels, his long tuxedo coat snapping behind him. He pushed through the inquisitive throng, not taking a full breath until he’d exited into the cool March night.

  24

  “What’s wrong with Zee?” Aidan asked over breakfast the following morning. He took a sip of strong coffee as he studied his wife, Delia. Her hair, more gray than black now, was pulled back in a loose bun, and she wore a comfortable day-dress in navy. Bright morning light poured in through the windows, hinting at the warmer months to come on this springlike day in early March.

  “I think she’s interested in that Theodore Goff, against her better judgment. She visited his home recently to look at art, and last night she was at the opera while he was also in attendance. She appears to have had some sort of interaction with him during both occasions.”

  Aidan stiffened. “Interaction?” He calmed only marginally when Delia gripped his hand.

  “From everything I’ve seen of the man, he wouldn’t hurt her. However, I believe he’s capable of confronting her on her beliefs of what she desires for her future.”

  “I would have thought Zee intelligent enough to realize she can marry and have a fulfilling life.” Aidan raised Delia’s hand and kissed it.

  Delia lowered her gaze and played with the silverware by her china plate. “I fear not having a father for the first part of her life has affected her.”

  Aidan sobered. “I’ve done all I can to atone for not being here for her. For you.”

  Delia blinked away tears at his husky, remorseful tone. “My love, I’m not chastising you. I want you to be aware that the effects of being raised in the orphanage with the fear of being alone are still present. She wants to be self-sufficient because she fears that, at any moment, all of this could be taken from her.”

  “She has a family now. She will always have someone to care for her and care about her should anything ever happen to us.” Aidan frowned. “How can she not understand this after the past decade together?”

  “Not everything is rational, least of all our emotions or fears.” Delia took a sip of tea. “Imagine, dearest. Right when she had accustomed herself to living this new life, with a home in Boston and San Francisco, the earthquake struck. To say it rattled her is not an overstatement.”

  Aidan’s gaze became distant before focusing on Delia. “Those were the longest days for me. Longer than when I had lost my first wife and our baby. Longer than when I was first separated from you. When I couldn’t find you and Zee for days afterward, I thought I’d go mad.”

  Delia nodded, lost in the memory of raging fires and overwhelming smoke, and the fear that she’d lost Aidan again. The destruction of their home had barely registered as she and Zylphia raced from the house, evading the roaring blaze while battling fear as aftershocks struck. When they were offered seats on a train out of the city, she’d eagerly accepted them, if only to ease Zylphia’s torment.

  “I’m sorry it took us so long to be reunited. However, this is just another reason why Zee is determined not to need anyone.”

  Aidan nodded, his shoulders stooping. “I feel as though I have failed her in some way. Rationally I know I haven’t. Not since I’ve returned. And yet I’ve never been able to ease her of this irrational fear.” His piercing blue eyes focused on Delia. “This Goff lad. What do you make of him?”

  “I don’t know him well. He’s often in the company of Owen Hubbard.” She raised an eyebrow at Aidan’s hmph. “And he’s very dedicated to experiments. His mother wishes he would take a more active role in running the business, but he appears to have no interest in it.”

  “Mr. Goff, his father, is a sage investor, although he spends the majority of his time in New York.”

  “Mrs. Goff preferred Boston. She did not like the hustle of such a large city. I suspect theirs is a marriage where they do not mind spending time apart.”

  Aidan grunted. “I do not want the same for Zee. She deserves more than a distant man, lost to his experiments.” He pushed away his plate and drummed his fingers on the dining room table. “What can we do to help her?”

  “Nothing. She must decide what she desires. I fear at the moment she wants her life to continue as it always has. And she wants to become more involved in the women’s suffrage movement.”

  Aidan sighed. “Then I have to admit that, in many ways, I’m hopeful this Goff lad can continue to rile her. I want my girl to live a full life, not one hampered by fears fostered from growing up in an orphanage.” He met his wife’s gaze and raised both palms up. “I promise not to interfere in any way, but I can’t say I’m not rooting for the lad.”

  Zylphia stood in the room she considered her studio. Savannah had written how it used to be her private sitting room and had hoped Zee would find a better use for it. The dreary wallpaper had been removed, replaced by bright cream-colored paint. All the drapes covering the front and side windows had been repurposed for the servants’ quarters, leaving the windows bare and allowing bright sunlight to shine in. Two tufted red velvet chairs and a matching chaise longue were scattered throughout the room, along with a few tables and lamps. Haphazardly stacked paintings lining the wall were the only other flashes of color inside the room.

  Zylphia stood, studying her canvas, squinting at it. “It’s missing something,” she murmured to herself. She tapped her paintbrush against the palette and squinted with frustration.

  “It looks beautiful to me,” a man with a deep voice said behind her.

  She squealed, nearly upending the palette she held of its mixture of browns, grays and blacks onto the canvas. She spun, facing the amused gaze of Theodore Goff. “Teddy, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d call for tea and apologize for my behavior at the opera last night.” His alert gaze took in the paint splattered on her apron, cheek and hair.

  “Tea? What made you think we had tea here?” Zylphia asked as she placed the palette on a side table and scrubbed her hands in a basin. The clear water was soon discolored, and her hands were only marginally cleaner. “My mother only deigns to act that conventional when she has matrons over for meetings about the orphanage. My friends know when they call it will be a culinary adventure, at best.” She grabbed a nearby rag and rubbed her hands dry and relaxed at Teddy’s soft chuckle.

  He roamed the room, bending over to study her paintings. He pulled canvases forward to see the ones behind them. “This is why my mother invited you to see our collection. She knew you were an artist. A very talented artist.”

  “My mother shared that information with her during one of their discussions at the orphanage. They thought to auction off a piece of art as part of a fund-raiser, and my mother mentioned my paintings.”

  “I can see why she did. Why aren’t these displayed somewhere? They’re magnificent.” He stopped in front of one with a cherry tree in bloom, its colors muted and melded as though see
n through gauze or a wet windowpane.

  “I just dabble at painting.”

  Teddy raised his eyebrows before shaking his head. “This isn’t dabbling, Zee. Most professional artists can only dream of accomplishing what you have. It’s like you studied the Impressionists and then formed your own interpretation.” His smile softened at her embarrassed blush. His gaze turned to her current project. “This is quite different.”

  “I’ve read a lot about the current trend in Paris, and I’ve seen a few of the lesser paintings. It fascinates me how art is changing, and I wanted to attempt my own version.”

  Teddy tilted his head and clasped his hands behind his back as he studied the painting of a couple, formed from cubes and geometrical shapes. The hues were more subdued than the vibrant work stacked along the walls of the room.

  “It’s called Cubism. Picasso is painting like this.” Zylphia was unable to hide the excitement from her voice. “Or at least I think he is.”

  “And do you desire to be like Picasso?”

  “I’ll never know what it is to have his talent, but I enjoy creating art in his style.”

  “Why?” He moved to one of the tufted chairs and leaned against the chairback.

  She waved at him, silently giving him permission to sit even though she remained standing. “What do you mean?”

  “Why should you stifle your art by copying other great artists? Why shouldn’t you use what you know, use your talent, to create something new? Art à la Zylphia?”

  She laughed for a moment before sobering when she realized he was serious. “I’m not an artist. I just tinker away here when I have time.”

  He motioned to all the paintings on the floor. “This isn’t an idle hobby, Zee. This is your passion. Embrace it. Share it.”

  “No. My passion is to see women obtain the vote.” She spoke resolutely, as though challenging him to contradict her.