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

by Ramona Flightner

  Savannah stilled Florence’s movement with a gentle touch to her hand. “Why has it meant so much to you, Florence? I would have thought, after the way I’d treated you, that you would gloat at my misfortune.” She made a face as Florence frowned.

  “Well, if not gloat, at least not be eager to help me. I was not kind to you. I scorned you for being a poor, orphan teacher, thinking myself above you because I was marrying a man such as Jonas. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and you married the better man,” Savannah whispered.

  “Do you know much about me?” Florence asked. Savannah shook her head and released Florence’s arm as Florence poured the tea. “Did it never seem odd to you that the head mistress of an orphanage would know who I am?”

  “Aren’t you an orphan like the McLeod brothers?”

  “No, Savannah.” Florence gripped the handle of her mug and continued to speak. “My mother gave me to the orphanage. She didn’t want me.”

  “That can’t be true,” Savannah argued.

  “On some level you are right. I’m sure she thought she was giving me a better future by bringing me when I was seven to the orphanage to be raised. My father was a drunk, and there was never enough food in the house. She was pregnant with another child.”

  “You can’t think she chose your siblings over you.”

  “For the longest time I did,” Florence whispered. “Until we returned to the Home, and I realized two of my siblings had been brought in.”

  “You must know that your mother acted as she did to ensure you had the best future possible, Florence,” Savannah urged. “No mother gives up her child without feeling as though her heart is breaking.”

  “Well, whatever the case, I’ll never know what my mother felt as she and the rest of them died in some sort of outbreak in the tenements a few years ago. My other siblings were sent on those orphan trains. I’m the only one left in Boston.” Florence blinked away tears.

  “I know what it is to have family, Savannah. To have siblings and a mother to tuck me in at night. To have a father that tells wondrous stories when he’s not sick with drink. You have no idea what it does to you to be torn away from all that is familiar.”

  Savannah gripped Florence’s hand, her brow furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, Florence. I wish there was more I could say. I’m sorry you had to suffer as you did.”

  “It’s why I no longer focus on how you thought of me in the past. You were blinded by Jonas’s and your grandparents’ values. The true woman, the Savannah I’ve come to know, fights to find her baby daughter. Fights to escape her husband and to not die an early death. Learns that all those trappings of wealth won’t bring happiness. That’s the woman I call friend.”

  “Thank you, Florence.” Savannah sniffled.

  “Because, like you, I know what it is to lose everything, I’m protective of the family I have now. Gabriel and Jeremy are the only brothers I will ever have. I don’t want to see them hurt.” She wiped at her eyes. “I hate to admit it, but I can understand Gabriel’s protectiveness of Richard and why Gabriel tried to separate Richard and me when Gabriel thought I would harm his brother.”

  “You’re being too understanding,” Savannah said with a wry smile.

  “When you’re alone in this world, I understand doing everything possible to protect those you love from harm. You have family, Savannah. It’s something you’ll never understand.”

  “You seem to be under the misapprehension that family always has the best intentions for its members. Often it’s quite selfish and manipulative. Or at least, that’s what I’ve found to be the case.”

  “But you still have your father, brother, aunt and Clarissa for support. Not to mention Colin,” Florence argued. “You might have to battle your mother and grandparents, but they haven’t turned everyone against you. You’re not alone, Savannah. Be thankful for that.”

  ***

  “DO YOU MIND IF I interrupt?” Savannah asked as she entered the workspace. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows on this late summer day, the first of September. She noted the pieces of wood piled haphazardly about, the workbench along one wall of the room, the table off to one side and the rocking chair. “I tried to visit Florence, but she wasn’t at home. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Jeremy said as he motioned for her to enter. “Today she’s visiting an elderly widow. She won’t return home until Richard does.”

  Savannah blushed and glanced away from the frank approval she saw in his gaze. She fidgeted, fingering the sleeve of her new plain yellow cotton dress. “I see you kept Clarissa’s rocking chair.” At Jeremy’s nod, Savannah wandered to it and sank into it. “He made her a comfortable chair.”

  “Yes, Gabriel always was talented,” Jeremy said.

  “What are you making, Mr. McLeod?”

  “A dining room set for an apothecary. He wanted cherry, but I convinced him maple was more practical.”

  “I would think cherry would be a more beautiful wood.”

  “Yes, though not on his budget,” Jeremy said with a smile. He watched her for a moment as he leaned against his workbench, absentmindedly wiping his dusty hands on his workpants. “What brings you by, ma’am?”

  “I … I just wanted to see a friendly face,” Savannah said and then blushed, looking away.

  “How are things with your family?”

  She grimaced before attempting to smile. “Lucas and my father are willing to visit me.”

  “Your brother, the musician?” Jeremy asked.

  “Yes, he’s supporting me through all this. I hadn’t realized until I saw him a few weeks ago how much I’d missed him.”

  “I’m glad then, ma’am,” Jeremy said with a smile.

  “As for my parents, my father’s supportive, but my mother would prefer if I were barred until I had the good sense to return to Jonas,” Savannah whispered.

  “Who would ever wish for you to continue to suffer at his hands?” Jeremy asked as he moved toward her.

  “My mother worries about what her parents will think of her. And about her hoped-for inheritance. How can money ever be worth more than me?”

  “I imagine your mother fears poverty. At least her version of poverty.”

  “I doubt she’s known a moment of hunger in her life,” Savannah said.

  “Well, then the fear of it can make you irrational. Have you any idea what it is to be poor?” he asked. “Do you know what it is like to wonder where your next meal will come from?”

  “No, but I know what it is to have every material possession I could imagine and still wish I were dead, because anything would be better than the reality I was living,” Savannah murmured. “And I will not return to that. Never.” They shared a long, mournful look before turning to stare around the workshop.

  “Oh, ma’am,” Jeremy murmured. “I’ve never known the type of hunger where you think your insides will eat themselves. But I know those who have. And that sort of desperation and fear will make you do drastic things.”

  “But my mother knows of no such reality!” Savannah cried. “My father will always provide for her. Why would she consign me to such a life?” Savannah scrubbed at her face a moment.

  “I imagine there is much about your mother you don’t know or understand.”

  “Sophie said much the same,” Savannah said. “At any rate Lucas explained to me it isn’t my scandalous desire for a divorce forcing customers away from the linen store but the new, ugly raised tramway. But my mother can only see me as the cause of all her problems. Why must I be the one to blame?” Savannah demanded as she barreled on. “She sends me scathing letters daily about my lack of propriety and decency, saying that the shame I have brought on the family is worse than anything Clarissa had done.”

  “I’d throw away her letters before opening them in the future,” Jeremy muttered.

  “Sophie says they’re best used for kindling,” Savannah said with a grin. “Why is what I’ve done so terrible?”

&nb
sp; “There are some who are afraid that women will become too independent. And others are afraid of the changes that will bring to society.”

  “Is this what you think, Mr. McLeod?”

  He flashed a fleeting smile. “No, ma’am. I prefer that women speak their minds. Even if I don’t agree with all they have to say. Sometimes their viewpoint is fascinating.” He chuckled. “I might think it’s wrong but still fascinating.” He watched her closely for a few moments. “Besides, why would any man want a woman who is a parrot to him?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Savannah murmured. “I’d always been taught that was the ideal woman. That I should think and feel as my husband does. That I had no need for anything more.”

  “You have no need for anything more than a husband’s opinions?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow. “What a bunch of hogwash, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re an intelligent woman. You just need to find faith in your own ideas.”

  “Thank you,” Savannah whispered as she blinked rapidly.

  He cocked his head to one side. “You’re welcome, although I don’t know for what.” He winked at her as he returned to his work.

  “Thank you for not ridiculing me.” She laughed then. “Oh, if Gabriel could only hear this conversation!”

  “Why is it humorous?”

  “Because, when I was convincing myself to marry Jonas, Gabriel and I had an argument about domestic animals. He equated domestic horses to domesticated women. Said that they were docile, demure creatures and that he had longed to meet a woman who could think for herself.”

  Jeremy laughed at the thought. “Sounds like Gabe. What did Clarissa do?”

  “She defended him of course. I think she already knew at that point that life without Gabriel wasn’t for her. I became irate and stormed out of here. I felt as though he were attacking my way of life. And I couldn’t believe Clarissa would want to tie herself to such a man.” Savannah paused, sighing. “After a few months with Jonas, I realized the wisdom of Gabriel’s words.”

  “What did he do to you, ma’am?” Jeremy asked softly as he moved toward her. He sat on a bench across from her and clasped her hand in his, tracing patterns on her palm. “You can trust me,” he coaxed.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Savannah stammered out, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m just so ashamed.”

  “There is no shame in survival,” Jeremy whispered as he wiped away one of her tears.

  Savannah closed her eyes as tears continued to course down her cheeks. “The first time he hit me was our wedding night. No one had ever hit me before. I had prepared for bed and had my maid pattern my hair in a pretty style, loose, over one shoulder. When he came into my bedroom, he was irate, saying that I had spoiled the night for him by denying him the pleasure of taking down my hair. He slapped me across the face and …” Savannah paused, choking on a sob.

  “You don’t know what it’s like, always waiting for the next blow. Sometimes there would be weeks, maybe a month between them. And yet it would always come. You begin to live in this state where everything makes you jump—any small noise or creak on the stair—because you think, now is the time for the next punishment.

  “He rarely struck me where anyone would see the bruises. But the worst was how he spoke to me. As though I were beneath his contempt. As though I were stupid. As though everything he did I made him do.” Savannah bowed her head as she fought back a sob.

  “Ma’am,” Jeremy murmured. He pulled the bench closer, plucked her out of the rocking chair and sat her next to him, enfolding her in his arms. “You must know none of that was your fault.” He rocked her, soothing her, crooning in her ear. He stopped talking, simply held her and let her cry.

  After many minutes, Savannah began to calm. She stiffened and tried to rise from his embrace. “Shh, love, let me hold you,” he murmured. He continued to caress her hair and to sing gentle words in her ear.

  “You have a lovely voice,” Savannah murmured.

  “Gabe whistles. I sing,” he said. “You will be well again. Someday you’ll find a man whom you can trust.”

  Savannah snuggled into his arms, content for the moment. “Thank you, Mr. McLeod. Thank you for listening and understanding.”

  “Anytime, ma’am. Anytime.”

  ***

  SAVANNAH RETURNED to Sophronia’s, riding partway in the new underground subway. She stepped out of the trolley, ascending the stairs at Park Street in the Common, breathing a small sigh of relief to be aboveground again. A cool breeze ruffled her skirts, and she walked at a moderate pace in the warm afternoon air. She followed one of the paths toward Sophronia’s stately home on Beacon Street, across from the Common.

  After entering the front hall and taking off her hat and gloves, she walked upstairs to the front sitting room to look for Sophronia. She entered the soothing pale-yellow front sitting room with the painting of a mountain glen at dawn over the mantel. Savannah wished she could banish the memories of her mother’s visit in this room.

  “Hello, dear,” Sophronia said. She sat in a comfortable lady’s chair, sipping a cup of tea. She appeared to have been deep in thought. “Are you well?”

  “Of course,” Savannah said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Sophronia studied her closely. “You appear somewhat rumpled and as though you’ve been crying.”

  Savannah flushed. “I visited Mr. McLeod at his workshop. I wanted to see a friend.”

  “Don’t you think it would have been more advisable to visit Florence?”

  “I tried to visit her, but she wasn’t home.” Savannah tapped her fingers on the edge of her seat. “My visit with Mr. McLeod was … enlightening.”

  “Really? In what way?” Sophronia asked, humored interest sparking in her aquamarine eyes.

  “He doesn’t seem appalled that I wish to have my own ideas and dreams. He says that there are men who believe that women should be their own person.” She shared a wondrous look with Sophronia.

  “Ah, yes, there are such men, dearest. Although they are more elusive than you may wish them to be. If there were more of them, we would have our amendment by now.”

  “Must it always be about suffragism?” Savannah asked, unable to hide her impatience.

  “No, although I believe that, if you’d had more freedoms, more rights to your own opinion, including who you wished to vote for, you might not have married the man you did.”

  “Thus my miserable existence is due to a lack of the vote?”

  “Partly. And partly due to an antiquated society that doesn’t fully value half its citizens.” Sophronia held up one hand. “I’m not here to argue women’s rights with you, Savannah dear. Either you will come around to it on your own or you won’t.” Sophronia gave her a fierce frown. “And I refuse to agree that your existence is miserable.” After a moment, she said, “Would you care to tell me why you are looking rumpled?”

  Savannah nodded. “I also spoke with him about what life had been like with Jonas. Mr. McLeod was very understanding. When I cried, he held me.” Savannah looked up, eyes swamped in memories of misery. “He told me someday I’d find a man I could trust. But I don’t know as I ever will. How can I?”

  “You have too big a heart to leave it locked away due to the misfortune of having married a brutal man,” Sophronia snapped. After a moment, her voice calmed. “And I’d quit searching for that man, if I were you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Just think about it,” Sophronia said with a grin. She sobered, and Savannah watched her with curiosity. “Now, unfortunately, I have disturbing news to impart.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have spoken with my lawyers, and they do not believe they will be successful. In their estimation, they do not have enough proof of Jonas’s cruelty to ensure obtaining a divorce decree.”

  “What more proof do they need?” Savannah wailed. “All the servants heard, and some saw, how he treated me.”

  “None, besides your maid
, are willing to corroborate your claims.”

  “Even if that means lying in court?” Savannah asked, anger lacing her voice. “And what my maid, Mary, Florence or Mr. McLeod saw? Does none of that matter?”

  “There is the fear that their testimony would be construed as biased due to their association with you. They need to have irrefutable testimony as to his cruelty to have a successful case.” Sophronia watched Savannah with an intense stare. “As we can find no evidence of your daughter’s placement in an orphanage, we cannot use that as evidence of his cruelty toward you. The courts would believe him, especially as he has a doctor to provide testimony to his claim.”

  “If the court would believe Mary, believe me, they’d know what kind of man he is. Stealing away my child,” Savannah rasped. “Why would they believe him over me? Over what I’ve suffered?”

  “Without irrefutable proof of her birth and either time in an orphanage or adoption, the court will not consider it evidence of cruelty against him.” Sophronia sighed. “You know that divorces are not frequently granted in Massachusetts, and you must be willing to provide all the evidence necessary for the case.”

  “I can’t return to him. I can’t …” Sobs tore from Savannah’s chest, and she bowed over, curling herself into a ball in her chair. “I can’t detail everything I suffered at his hands. I refuse to be an object of gossip and ridicule for the papers.”

  “No, you will never return to him. I have summoned your aunt Betsy, and we will help you determine what is to be done.”

  “Aunt Betsy?”

  “Yes, the only member of your family, besides Clarissa—but she is too far away to render any help—who is capable of showing any sense.” Sophronia harrumphed again. “You’ll remain safe and free of him. I promise you.”

  “Thank you, Sophie.”

  “Now, as for the other matter at hand, I know you have enlisted the aid of your friends, the McLeods, in your search for your daughter.” At Savannah’s nod, Sophie continued. “I, too, have turned to those I can trust in an attempt to discover what occurred last November.”

  Savannah gripped her hands together on her lap. “What have you discovered?”