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.
Jeremy turned sideways, shielding Savannah from jostling against the doorway and moved into the entranceway. He sat with Savannah on his lap on a chair beside the black walnut hallstand and continued to look around. “I had forgotten how impressive these homes are,” Jeremy said in a near whisper to Florence. “Aunt a
lways made us stay in the servants’ quarters, unless she dragged us out to be seen by friends in an attempt to exemplify her Christian charity.” His glance took in the white wainscoting, the mauve satin wallpaper that covered the upper half of the walls and the fine furniture relegated to the entranceway. He bit his lip from saying anything more as he noted the butler returning.
He motioned for them to follow him. “Mrs. Chickering just returned home and was desirous of a quiet afternoon. However, she will make an exception for you. Please follow me.”
They followed him up the stairs to a sun-filled yellow sitting room, with flourishing ferns sitting in a bow-fronted window overlooking Beacon Street and the Common.
“Florence, what do you mean, Mrs. Montgomery might need a doctor?” Sophronia demanded as she stood near the fireplace waiting for them. She had been staring into the painting of a quiet mountain glen with light sparkling through the tree branches as at dawn but turned toward them at their arrival. “Please, lay her on the settee.”
Jeremy did as he was bid, stroking Savannah’s hair once before he backed away a step.
“I don’t need a doctor,” Savannah said. “It’s not that bad this time.”
“This time?” Jeremy bellowed. “How many times has that man hurt you?”
Sophronia moved toward the settee, pushing Jeremy out of the way. “Mr. McLeod, it’s nice to see you are one male with good sense. I suspected as much when I met you last year at Clarissa’s when you called with your brother, Richard. However, I must insist you let Savannah breathe. Give her some space.” Jeremy backed up a few paces, his gaze never leaving Savannah’s prostrate form on the settee.
“Now, Savannah, you will tell me what he did and allow me to determine what needs to be done,” Sophronia said.
“He gripped my arms, struck my cheek and kicked me in the shin. Nothing that requires a doctor.”
“What has he done in the past?”
Savannah curled into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut. “Nothing that needs to be discussed now. It has no bearing on today’s events.”
“Oh, but I disagree. It has everything to do with today’s events, and our ability to show a court that you left him due to cruelty.”
“Court?” Savannah whispered as she opened her eyes to meet Sophronia’s. She flinched as Sophronia traced the red welt rising on her cheek below her left eye.
“Of course, my dearest Savannah. You wouldn’t think your aunt Betsy or I would have you simply leave and be a scorned woman in society? We want you to be a divorced woman.”
Jeremy hissed and Florence gasped. Savannah watched as Sophronia turned her icy aquamarine eyes on them to silence them. “If you are going to be scandalous, dearest, you might as well be a true sensation. Why allow Clarissa to have all the notoriety?” She smiled tenderly at Savannah as she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “And you must be free of that man.”
“What must I do?”
“Never fear. I’ve asked my butler, Poole, to send for my lawyer, and I’m sure he is en route by now. He will know what needs to be done.”
“Mrs. Chickering, thank you,” Savannah said, as tears streamed from her eyes.
“None needed. I had hoped you would come to me, but I had never expected it would be so soon nor in quite so dramatic a fashion.”
CHAPTER 7
Montana, July 1902
THE DRY, HOT BREEZE blew down the canyon and into town, and small funnels of dust formed in the front walkways of the homes we passed. The mountainsides in the distance were a baked gold, incandescent in the early evening light. I maintained a loose hold on Gabriel’s arm as we walked toward his uncle’s house.
Gabriel reached out and clasped my arm as I stumbled in a rut on the side of the road. I steadied myself and moved away from him, brushing down my skirts. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”
“No need to apologize, Rissa.” He offered his arm again, and I reached for it with shaking fingers. Gabriel reached down to cover my hand with his, holding it firmly in place. I moved a step closer to him, and we walked at a sedate pace to Aidan’s home on Pine Street. Although Aidan was currently in San Francisco, Amelia lived there as his housekeeper and cook. We spent many evenings there with our friends, at what had become our informal gathering place.
“Clarissa,” Gabriel said with a note of hesitancy in his voice. “Won’t you tell me what troubles you?”
“It’s nothing. Nothing that won’t be resolved with time.”
“Have I done something?”
“Of course not,” I whispered. I blinked rapidly to prevent any tears from falling.
“You’ve been distant lately, darling. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s all my own doing.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat.
He paused for a moment on the walkway toward his uncle’s house. “You say there’s nothing troubling you. Then in the next breath that there’s nothing I can do to help. Don’t you want what we had? Why did everything change in April?”
“Gabriel, now is not the time,” I whispered, as I forced a smile at a passing couple.
“When is the time? You’re never home. You don’t want me near you. I thought we’d moved past what happened in Boston.”
“Gabriel—”
“Dammit, Rissa,” he said, as he stepped in front of me and gripped both of my arms and glared at me with azure eyes lit with pain. “Be honest with me. Tell me what I can do to make you happy.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing you can do. I—”
He backed away, releasing my arms before I finished. “I see. Well, can you at least act as though I make you happy for our friends? They’ve gone to some trouble for our anniversary dinner.” He motioned for me to precede him up the walkway.
“For my sake, can you please try?” Gabriel asked again, as he knocked on the front door of his uncle’s house.
I nodded, moving a step toward him and gripping his arm as Colin eased open the front door.
“Welcome!” he said in a booming voice. He enveloped me in a warm hug before releasing me to slap Gabriel on the back. “Amelia’s in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Seb and Ronan are in the living room, playing with little Nicholas, and Anne’s had her supper and is already asleep.”
We entered the small foyer to Aidan’s house with its staircase leading upstairs. The main doorway was in the middle of the house. To the right was a large room he used as an office. To the left was a formal sitting room connected to a dining room. The previous owners had added a kitchen in the back, transforming the once-square, two-story building into an irregularly shaped residence. A pantry and another small storage room were next to the kitchen. Behind Aidan’s formal office was a bedroom, currently used by Amelia and her children. Upstairs, three nice-size bedrooms remained largely unused.
“Gavriel!” Nicholas yelled as he rose from the floor and clamped onto one of Gabriel’s legs. “We get to eat cake!”
Gabriel chuckled as he ruffled Nicholas’s russet-colored hair. “That we do, little man. Today is a day to celebrate.”
Nicholas scrambled back to Sebastian to continue their marbles match. Sebastian, our friend and overseer of one of the local lumber mills, glanced toward us and nodded, his long, lean frame still sprawled on the floor. “Gabriel, Mrs. McLeod.” He smiled, before returning his attention to Nicholas.
I managed a wan smile as I met Ronan’s gaze. “Hello, Ronan. How did you travel here?”
“Seb took one of the wagons from the mill and picked me up.” Ronan sat on his wheelchair in the living room, watching Nicholas’s and Sebastian’s antics, his sherry-brown eyes lit with pleasure.
“Doesn’t weigh more than a few two-by-fours,” Sebastian said, before he began to tickle Nicholas.
Over Nicholas’s delighted shrieks, Colin said, “That’s not what you were muttering as I helped you. You were carrying on worse than an old woman.”
Amelia swatted him on
his arm as she hugged first me and then Gabriel. “Men will do no end of bellyaching if they think there’s a receptive audience.” She smiled at Ronan, Sebastian, her son Nicholas, and Colin before retreating to the kitchen.
I moved to follow Amelia. However, Colin directed me to a dining room chair. “Don’t even think about it, Rissa. This is one meal that I’m looking forward to eating!”
“I’d have to agree with Colin,” Ronan said with a wink. He wheeled his well-used wheelchair—made of sturdy maple, designed by Gabriel; and steel to form the wheels, forged by Colin—into the dining room. The steel wheels were a simple design with little ornamentation. However, with enough determination and arm strength, Ronan was able to move himself short distances. “Not that I don’t appreciate your attempts to feed me, Clarissa. But a man does look forward to a good home-cooked meal.”
“I’m not that bad in the kitchen.” At their smirks, I remained seated.
“Disastrous is the word most often used with you and the kitchen,” Colin said with a grin.
I knew their remarks weren’t intended to harm, but, in my present state, they only added to my melancholy.
Soon Sebastian rose from the floor, carrying Nicholas with him toward the kitchen to wash their hands. Gabriel settled next to me at the dining room table with Colin sitting at my left, Ronan on his other side. Amelia scurried to and from the kitchen, carrying platters of food, and before long the large oval table was covered with a delicious feast. Green beans, beets, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls and slabs of a carved roast filled bowls and platters.
Sebastian emerged from the kitchen, sat next to Ronan and propped Nicholas by him. Whenever Amelia settled, she would sit next to Gabriel and Nicholas.
“Amelia, sit down so we can begin. I can’t imagine you have any more food out there for us,” Colin said. He reached for a roll but stilled his movements as Amelia entered the room from the kitchen. He flashed her a quick grin as she glared at him.
“I want this meal to be perfect for our celebration.” She beamed at everyone present and took her seat, setting down the bowl of mashed potatoes.
Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 Page 5
