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

by Ramona Flightner

  “No, no, not at all,” Florence stammered. She glanced toward Jeremy with a lost expression, as though looking for help. Her eyes lit on Savannah standing behind Jeremy, belatedly recalling she had yet to introduce her. “I’m here with …”

  “Are you here looking for your family?” Delia asked, interrupting Florence. She patted Florence’s arm. “I just wish we’d been able to place your brother and sister with you. But, by the time we had realized they were your siblings, Mrs. Kruger had no need of more help. She knew she didn’t have long for this world and couldn’t take on any more responsibilities.”

  “My siblings were here?” Florence whispered.

  “Yes, for a few years. No one wanted them, poor dears. Terribly scrawny things. I thought the influenza would get them at one point, but they survived.” She paused to study Florence’s ashen expression. “I assumed you knew they’d come here. Been brought here by your mother.”

  Florence collapsed onto a chair in the hallway, bone white. “No, I’ve had no contact with my family since the day I was left here.” She raised devastated eyes to Delia. “Where are they now? I haven’t been able to find any of them.”

  “That would prove difficult,” Delia said. “They were sent west on one of the trains. We were overrun, and it was decided the most prudent action.” She shrugged, either with chagrin or embarrassment before turning to smile broadly at Savannah, noting her fashionable dress and coat.

  Savannah stiffened, melding an instinctive grimace into a practiced, impersonal smile.

  “Oh God,” Florence said as she leaned forward.

  “Breathe, Flo. Take deep breaths. Nothing is ever accomplished by fainting,” Jeremy said urgently as he crouched by Florence’s side. He rubbed her back and glared at the woman to remain quiet.

  Mrs. Maidstone paused as she moved toward Savannah. Mrs. Maidstone’s brow furrowed as she noted Florence’s distress while she watched Jeremy intently. “Be thankful they weren’t still with your parents, for they fared better than the rest of your family. Died in one of those pestilent outbreaks in one of the tenements.”

  Florence gasped, raising her head. “Is that why I can’t find them? They’re all dead?”

  “Yes, all but Victor and Minerva, who went west on the train,” Delia said.

  “Mrs. Maidstone,” Jeremy hissed, “I think you need to desist your chatter.”

  “Mrs. Maidstone,” Savannah said at nearly the same moment, when she noted the woman taking a deep breath as though to continue her prattle. “Might I have a word about a child?” She glanced toward Jeremy, and he flashed her a grateful smile.

  “Oh, wonderful. I knew my Florence would not forget us.” She bustled into a back office, and Savannah followed her.

  “Please have a seat, Mrs. …”

  “Mrs. Montgomery,” Savannah said as she sat on the edge of the seat with her hands on her knees, her small purse resting on her lap.

  “Yes, Mrs. Montgomery.” Her smile faltered for a moment before beaming brightly again at Savannah. “What sort of child are you looking for, dear? Is there a specific age?”

  “I would like to discern if you have, at any time, had a child in your home who was born last year in mid-November. A girl,” Savannah said in a soft voice.

  “A baby?” Mrs. Maidstone asked. She sat at a large desk, opening a side drawer for a ledger. “Mid-November, you say?”

  “Yes,” Savannah murmured.

  “No babies were brought to us from early September until January,” she said as she looked up from the ledger. “I have many fine young children here for you to consider, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  Savannah paled before nodding. “I’m sure you do. I thank you for your time.” She departed the office to find Jeremy still crouched in front of Florence.

  Jeremy glanced up and watched her as she reentered the hallway. “Any luck?” he murmured.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said with a sad smile. He turned back to Florence. “Flo, we should leave. Let’s get you home to Richard.”

  “How can it hurt this much, Jeremy?” Florence whispered, her low voice resonant with pain. “I haven’t seen them in years.”

  Savannah moved to her other side and bent over to rub her back. “I imagine it’s the loss of the dream that hurts. It’s that which must be mourned,” she murmured.

  Florence gripped her hand. “Thank you, Savannah. Thank you for understanding,” Florence said on a sob.

  “We have much in common,” Savannah said with a rueful smile.

  As they helped Florence to rise and then depart the orphanage, Savannah began to fidget. “I must return to my house in the Back Bay. My husband will be angry enough with me upon learning that I left today to visit my parents. I don’t wish him to suspect anything.”

  “Stay safe, Savannah,” Florence said. “Come visit us again soon.”

  Savannah nodded, turning away from Jeremy’s intense stare. She walked down Salem Street toward the nearby trolley stand and home.

  ***

  “HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY my instructions?” Jonas said in a soft voice as he entered the front sitting room that night, Savannah already in her lady’s chair. Lamps cast a warm glow on the walls, and no fire was lit in the marble fireplace. The curtains in the bow-fronted window were closed, engendering a sense of warm intimacy in the room. His tailored black suit highlighted his thin frame, while the amber waistcoat enhanced the brown in his eyes. The thick Turkish carpets dulled his stalking footsteps.

  Savannah attempted to quell a shudder at the tone she had come to dread.

  “I thought you knew better by now than to disappoint me, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “I advised you last night I wished to visit my parents.” She bit her lip in frustration at her inability to hide the quiver in her voice.

  He strolled toward her until he stood behind her. Jonas placed his hands on her shoulders as though to massage them and leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Do you desire my wrath? Have you missed my attentions?”

  “No, no, Jonas,” Savannah said quickly. She tried to rise, but his firm grip pushed her back onto the chair.

  His fingers worked to knead her neck as Savannah panted with agitation. “Then I would think you would obey my dictates,” he hissed as he gripped her neck, thrusting it back so that her head faced upward, and she saw him. Her startled whimper of pain appeared to please him as she stared, upside down, into his irate eyes, and he tightened his hold around her neck.

  “Jonas, please!” Savannah said on a weak gasp, as she struggled in an attempt to breathe.

  “Never disobey me again,” he said as Savannah turned white. “Or you will be disappointed by the consequences.” He released her abruptly and strolled out of the sitting room.

  Savannah fell forward, collapsing onto the floor as she gasped for air. Futile tears fled from her eyes as she stared dazedly at the refined splendor of the formal sitting room. The perpetually joyful, flute-playing cherubs in the ceiling mural mocked her misery.

  When she had recovered to the point she could stand, she walked upstairs to her bedroom, latching the door. She collapsed against it, knowing no way out of this prison she had fashioned for herself.

  A connecting door opened, and she squinted, expecting to see Jonas cataloging her every fault. Instead her maid, Mary, was there, a look of horror and concern in her expression.

  “Missus!” she gasped as she shut and latched the door. She hurried to Savannah and gripped her hands. “What has happened?”

  “I … I …” Savannah shook her head, unable to express her agony.

  “Can you write?”

  “Writing Clarissa will do me no good,” Savannah whispered.

  “Write those friends of yours who you mentioned a few weeks ago, Missus. If you tell me where they live, I’ll deliver the letter myself,” Mary said earnestly. “Tomorrow I have a few hours to go to the post office and run my weekly errands. I can deliver it then.”

  Galvanized by
Mary’s idea, Savannah pushed away from the door and rushed toward her escritoire. She scribbled a hastily written note and, after ten minutes, sealed the letter. She turned to Mary. “I am trusting this to you. Please, do not let anyone find this or I …” She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

  “I will not fail you, Missus. And don’t fear. I’ll bring you some dinner later.” She turned to leave. “Lock the door after me.” Savannah rose, locked the door and crawled fully dressed into her bed. She wondered when she would stop shaking.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Savannah sank into her chair in her upstairs sitting room. She placed the book she had attempted to read on a nearby table and stared at her embroidery. Faint light shone behind the curtained windows. The gray satin wallpaper, the ice-blue parlor suite and dark brown mahogany furniture gave no relief to Savannah’s dark mood. She glowered at the pitcher of purple hydrangeas. She closed her eyes, imagining throwing them out and filling the room with the sweet scent and vibrancy of pink peonies.

  “Do not even think of barring me entrance,” a loud, imperious voice declared.

  Savannah heard rustling skirts and footsteps approaching on the thick rugs. She rose from her chair to see a woman near her grandmother’s age barging into her second-floor sitting room. The woman’s vivaciousness was more startling for her age.

  “I beg your pardon,” Savannah said, although she wondered why she was asking this woman’s pardon. She marveled at the gall of the woman dressed in jade-green silk, the color highlighting her silver hair.

  “As you should. If you had any sense, you would have come to see me and not forced me to call on you.” She sighed as she glanced around the room. “This is a rather depressing room, isn’t it? I should think you’d want lighter colors in a more soothing tone to highlight the afternoon sun.”

  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “I was sent to you by Clarissa.” With this the woman turned the full force of her stare on Savannah, looking her up and down, her aquamarine eyes squinting in displeasure at what she saw. “I understand why she was concerned.”

  “You will leave this house at once,” Jonas hissed from the doorway, having been summoned upstairs to Savannah’s sitting room by the butler. “Mrs. Montgomery is not accepting callers at this time. She is recovering from her illness.”

  “Any illness that requires seven months to recover from would be better treated at the hospital, Mr. Montgomery. Or by a competent physician rather than by useless tonics peddled by charlatans. Or is it that you prefer to keep her here, sequestered away from her friends and family, for some other reason?”

  “Mrs. Chickering, I would thank you to leave things well enough alone. This is not your place.”

  “Oh, but it is. Your mother would have wanted you to behave in a more gentlemanly manner. If she could see you now, she would be ashamed of her only son.” A flush highlighted her cheeks, and a fiery gleam of displeasure lit her eyes. Sophronia straightened her shoulders as she faced Jonas.

  “How dare you speak of my mother in such a way?”

  “Didn’t you know I summered with her in Newport? We attended the loveliest parties together. She had such elegance and grace. Knew the importance of decorum, tradition and family. She understood that all members of the family, both male and female, were to be cherished.”

  Jonas glared at Sophronia, and his face reddened. “I think I knew my mother better than you to know that she would never have willingly associated with …”

  “With a firebrand suffragette?” Sophronia smirked. “Didn’t you know she was one of our greatest supporters? Had a lovely luncheonette each summer to support our cause.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I imagine she didn’t inform you. Always did think you were too stodgy, even for someone so young.” She turned toward Savannah with a dismissive gesture toward Jonas. “Now, Mrs. Montgomery, I was hoping to have a cup of tea and discuss your future.”

  “Mrs. Chickering,” Jonas hissed.

  “And you, Mr. Montgomery, may retire to your library or to wherever it is you spend your afternoons. We will be fine without you.” Her aquamarine eyes appeared more steel-like in their distaste, daring Jonas to contradict her. He inhaled deeply but then turned on his heel, and the sound of a slamming door reverberated up the stairs.

  “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 l
ike 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.