Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7

by Ramona Flightner

  “She won’t die, Teddy,” Rowena said. She jumped as Morgan collapsed on the settee he had been mangling with his hands.

  “She won’t come back unchanged.” Teddy shuddered. “I saw what prison did to my cousin Eugenie in England.” He let out a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the cool windowpane. “I hate to imagine how this will affect Zee.”

  “Or Parthena,” Morgan said. Guilt seemed to emanate from his pores as he sank farther into the settee, his head resting against the back of it. “I should have come here sooner.”

  “None of us knew this was coming,” Rowena argued.

  Teddy scoffed and turned to face them. He rubbed at his forehead, massaging a scar on his hairline. “I doubt that. I’m sure that woman in charge of this debacle of a movement knew exactly what would happen to the women who dared to picket.” He cut off Rowena’s protest. “And I’m certain she’s delighted her protesters are in custody.”

  “As she’s already in jail, I think that’s unfair,” Rowena said. “We all knew the risks.”

  Morgan sat as though in a daze. “I’ll never understand why going to jail would be seen as successful.”

  Rowena shook her head in disappointment. “Of course you wouldn’t. It’s a sign of our determination to this cause. Of our dedication. It’s essential we change public perception of us.”

  Teddy laughed without a trace of humor. “You think that going to jail will erase the public’s memory of you standing outside the White House in a time of war calling our president the Kaiser?” He shook his head. “Our country is at war with Germany. You should never have made such banners.” At Rowena’s disappointed stare, he muttered, “I understand your determination, but your methods are mad.”

  “We’ve never provoked violence. We’ve never lied,” Rowena snapped.

  “You twist the truth to your way of thinking, just as any politician does,” Morgan said. “I read your newspaper every week. I find your articles to be the most illuminating.”

  Rowena flushed at his praise before focusing again on Teddy. “What do you plan to do for Zee?” Her gaze moved to Morgan. “For Parthena?”

  The two men exchanged a long glance and shook their heads. “I’m not sure,” Teddy said. “I’m not sure what can be done when they’ve refused to pay a fine and have chosen to go to the workhouse.”

  Rowena leaned forward. “That’s just it. They didn’t choose the workhouse. They chose jail.”

  Teddy’s silver eyes shone. “Aah, … then I think we have the beginnings of a case.”

  Four days later, Zylphia lay on the cot, her mind wandering aimlessly as she fought hunger. The overwhelming scent of bacon wafted through the air, and she pinched her nose so as not to smell it. Tears leaked out as she imagined eating again.

  A lassitude pervaded her, and she barely had the strength to braid her hair. She glanced at the door as a tray with buttered toast and milk was dropped on the floor. She ignored the offering, her inherent indignation waning with each passing day that they believed her resolve so weak they could corrupt it with a piece of buttered toast. She awaited the creeping sound of rats approaching her untouched food.

  Her mind wandered as she had increasing difficulty focusing on the reality of her situation. Visions of her time at the orphanage, of playing with children her age, of drawing and realizing she had talent. Her mind flitted around from memory to memory as though watching a motion picture in slow motion, images fading in and out of focus. Sitting in a steaming coffee shop as she spoke with her father. Moving into his home after he wed her mother. The first time she told him that she loved him. Her joy at seeing a room set up as her painting studio, arranged by her father. Meeting Teddy. Watching him watch her as she twirled around a ballroom in Newport with Owen Hubbard. She shifted uncomfortably after thinking about Teddy, preferring to doze and not remember, rather than focus on him and their relationship.

  Two days later, she was nearly insensate. She had had little contact with any of the other prisoners, and the few times she had crawled over to peer out her cell, she had been unable to see Parthena. She heard rumors that she and a few others were to be transferred to the jail due to their weakened states. When the workhouse cell door scraped open, she watched with a bleary-eyed indifference as they approached her. “This one’ll die if we do nothing,” the guard said with a shake of his head. “Stupid woman. Hasn’t learned to accept her place.”

  “Then she must be forced to accept the consequences of her actions,” another said with gleeful malevolence.

  Zylphia squinted as the sound of a chair scraping against the concrete floor echoed through the cell. She blinked a few times to bring the goings-on into focus. When her arms were grasped, she kicked and bucked. Two more men came from outside, forcing her into movement as they hauled her into the chair. She kicked out, landing a strike on one man’s shoulder. Strong arms gripped her legs, and she lacked the strength to fight them off. After her legs were strapped to the chair and her arms tied behind her back, she continued to buck and fight.

  “Don’t be wasting the little energy you have left,” one of the guards scolded. “The doctor will be right here.”

  “No!” Zylphia screamed, moving with such force she toppled the chair backward. Another guard jumped and pushed her upright before she collapsed and smashed her skull on the concrete floor. With a few hand motions, he instructed the other guards to hold her in place.

  The doctor arrived with a nurse beside him. She carried a long tube, and he held a small black bag. He approached Zylphia with tired eyes and frowned as she struggled against the guards. “If you would accept your fate, this will be much more pleasant for you.”

  “Thrusting a tube down my throat will never be pleasant, no matter how docile I am,” she hissed. She gasped as one of the guards gripped her hair and yanked her head back. That small gasp allowed the doctor to pry apart her jaw with a metal instrument. He tightened the screws, holding her jaw open against her attempts to close her jaw, the metal digging into her lips and gums.

  One guard sat on her legs to prevent any movement of her lower body while two others held her shoulders back so she would remain as still as possible. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she gagged as the cold rubber tube was thrust down her throat. Her imploring gaze turned to one of hatred as the doctor forced a thick liquid gruel down the tube into her stomach. After a few minutes, he nodded with satisfaction and eased the tube from her throat. Afterward he removed the tube and he patted her on her shoulder. “There, that should keep you going so you reach the jail.”

  He removed the metal instrument from her mouth, and she turned her head, vomiting all over the doctor’s feet. She clutched her stomach, ignoring the commotion as the mess was cleaned up. Rather than crawl into bed, she was tugged into the hallway where another orderly awaited her. She swiped at her bleeding lips with the rough cotton of her workhouse gown and leaned against the wall, her legs shaking and barely holding her weight.

  “I’m not carrying you, so don’t expect special treatment ’cause you refused to eat,” the orderly snapped. “Follow me.” He motioned to Zylphia, and, when she was slow to move, he grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall to a set of stairs and to the awaiting vehicle.

  She fell on the seat in the back of the trucklike transport with two other women already present. She had a bench to herself and curled onto it, shaking, willing herself not to cry.

  “It’s all right, Zylphia,” Lucy Burns said, her voice roughened and raw. “Things will be better at the jail. Alice is there. You’ll see.”

  “I never imagined …” Zylphia whispered. “With everything I’ve read, I never …” She shuddered and pulled her knees to her chest.

  “The important thing is to keep resisting. To keep fighting. They think we don’t know our place. The problem is that they don’t understand that their vision of the world must change.” Lucy stroked a hand over Zylphia’s head. “And we’ll help them acknowledge that.”

  �
��I don’t want to die,” Zylphia murmured.

  Lucy laughed. “You won’t. They’ll keep you alive. Through forced feedings. Through any means possible. The death of a previously healthy young woman in jail is not the notoriety the government needs. You’re doing well, Zee. Keep up the struggle.”

  “I can’t imagine that happening again.” She scrubbed at her tear-soaked cheeks.

  Lucy sighed. “The truth is, it will continue. It will occur up to three times a day. You must find the strength to fight but know that whatever happens is worth it because it furthers the struggle.”

  “I’ll try,” Zylphia whispered before she grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Do you know how Parthena is?”

  Lucy gripped her hand to calm her. “She’s brave. Like you, Zee. She’ll most likely follow us to jail in a few days. She’ll need feedings soon.”

  Zylphia sensed Lucy move away from her to settle on the other bench. She dozed during the trip to the jail on the outskirts of Washington, DC. The transfer from the back of the police wagon to her new jail cell was a blur. Dimly lit hallways, stale air and curious eyes peering from inside cells were fleeting impressions before she tripped and fell to the floor in her new cell. She crawled to the bed in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest as exhaustion overwhelmed her.

  Chapter 17

  Teddy sat beside Morgan in the courtroom’s spectator balcony. Jam-packed with reporters, suffragists and curious citizens, they had opted to sit in the balcony rather than down below so as not to draw attention to themselves. Teddy sighed when a reporter watched them with keen interest, jotting down notes as the case progressed as though analyzing their responses to share with his avid readership.

  Teddy shifted in his seat again as the proceedings dragged on. The judge showed little inclination to reduce the prisoners’ sentences and release them early. Teddy glared at the lawyer he and Morgan had contributed a large sum of money to as the attorney remained ineffectual in his arguments.

  Finally he called forth women to describe their treatment in the workhouse. They detailed the filthy conditions, the taunting by the guards, the screams they heard from the women who were force-fed. As they spoke in blunt words, an uneasy murmur rose among the spectators watching the hearing.

  When the jail warden gave testimony, the suffragist lawyer said, “I would like to hear from one of the ringleaders. That Lucy Burns or Zylphia Goff. They’ve been arrested enough times.”

  “I’m afraid they were deemed too weak to be present today,” the warden said.

  “Too weak?” The lawyer raised an eyebrow as he peered over his spectacles at the man. “Have you not just informed me that they are on a hunger strike?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And did you not just say that they are force-fed?” At the warden’s nod, the lawyer squinted as he tapped the papers in front of him. “How many orderlies hold them down to feed them every day?”

  The crowd gasped and instinctively leaned forward to hear the warden’s words. Teddy stiffened next to Morgan, and his hands clenched at any description of Zylphia’s mistreatment.

  “I’ve been told it takes four to hold down Miss Burns, while only three are necessary for Mrs. Goff.” The warden’s face reddened as he glared at the triumphant lawyer.

  Morgan nudged Teddy in the side when he subtly shook after hearing three men held down his wife to force-feed her. “She’s strong, Teddy. She’ll be all right.”

  “How would you feel if they were describing Parthena?” Teddy asked, their wild, worried gazes meeting.

  Morgan blinked his understanding before returning his attention to the proceedings.

  The lawyer whipped off his glasses and pointed them at the warden as though in confusion. “You’re telling me that they weren’t allowed to testify because they were deemed too weak, but it takes three or four grown men to hold them down to feed them?” He shook his head in feigned befuddlement. “I seem to have a different definition of weakness.”

  The judge glowered at the warden and intoned, “I am deeply displeased at this show of malfeasance at this hearing.”

  When the hearing was over, no resolution had been agreed upon, and the women were to remain in jail or the workhouse for the foreseeable future. Teddy strode from the courthouse, pushing past nosy reporters and refusing to comment. He hailed a cab, escaping the curious onlookers.

  Later Teddy sat in Rowena’s sitting room, staring into space as he relived the hearing. Lamps were lit as darkness descended earlier on these the late-November evenings. He sighed his thanks as Rowena handed him a cup of tea. Morgan had followed the lawyer to his office in hopes of ascertaining any further information and pressuring for an immediate release. He planned to meet them at Rowena’s after his meeting.

  “She’ll be all right, Teddy,” Rowena whispered.

  Teddy shook his head. “That’s what Morgan said. But I don’t believe she’ll ever be the same Zylphia as when she went in.” He ran a hand over his face. “Do you know I haven’t seen her since August?” He set aside his tea and rose, moving to stare out the window. “I thought it kinder to the both of us if I stayed away. All we seemed to do was bring each other pain.”

  “She enjoyed your visit here, Teddy,” Rowena murmured.

  Teddy laughed mirthlessly. “She did for a few hours. Then the bickering started again. If we could gag each other and not talk, we might get along.” He sat down on a wingback chair and rested his head against its high back. “I wonder now if that wasn’t her goal. To induce an argument with me so that I’d leave her to do what she pleased.”

  “Why is it so important that you retain your British citizenship?” Rowena asked. “You’ve lived here for years.”

  Teddy shrugged his shoulders and flushed. “It’s one of those things that’s a part of who I am. I’ve lost so much in my life. I didn’t want to lose that too.”

  “Is it worth keeping if you lose Zee?” Rowena asked.

  Teddy bolted upright to face Rowena, who’d become a close friend during Zylphia’s incarceration. “I can see why Zee enjoys your counsel,” he said. “All I’ve focused on is what I’d initially lose. Not what I’ll gain if I change my mind.”

  Rowena smiled. “If you mean what you said, Zee will be delighted, not because you’ve changed your mind, but because you’ll have harmony again. She’s missed you dreadfully.”

  “I thank you for saying that, but I fear you’re being overly optimistic.” Teddy’s eyes clouded as he watched Rowena.

  She frowned. “What is it?”

  He ran a hand through his sable hair. “I shouldn’t even contemplate what worries me.” He rose again as a restless energy filled him, his hands grasping the back of a tall chair. “I’ve heard … rumors … that Zylphia has become close to a man who frequents Cameron House. An Octavius Hooper.” He paused. “I met him in August. He seemed overly concerned about Zee’s welfare.”

  Rowena paled. “Teddy, you have to understand …” She paused as she bit her lip. “You have to understand that many men find your wife attractive. And because she’s been here for so long without your presence, there are those who believe that she is open to dalliance.”

  Teddy’s jaw twitched. “And was she?” He met Rowena’s troubled gaze. “Open to dalliance?”

  “No. She flirted, but she never wanted anything to do with any of them, Teddy. You must believe me.” Rowena frowned as he broke his gaze from hers and moved to lean against the windowsill.

  He sat in silence a few minutes, the only sound in the room the clock ticking on the side table. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to believe anymore. I know what I hope to be true. But no longer what I believe.”

  Morgan burst into the room, his eyes lit with hope. “I believe there is a possibility for them! One of the judges, the one who sent them in and who’s had the most interaction with them, is pressuring for the women to be released. He believes the death of any of them would be more than the government and city officials could overcome.”

&
nbsp; “When would this release occur?” Teddy asked, his previous melancholy banished.

  “I’m not sure as today is Friday. Hopefully sometime this weekend. I’d think Monday at the latest. The women on hunger strike aren’t getting any stronger.” He nodded as he watched Teddy pale. “Parthena’s striking too, Teddy.”

  Teddy gripped his shoulder and took a deep breath. “Then we’ll have to add our voices to this judge’s reasonable recommendation.”

  “I’ll see what is planned when I’m at Cameron House tomorrow,” Rowena said. “I’m certain the leaders who aren’t incarcerated will keep us informed.”

  The following day, Morgan strode into their replacement lawyer’s office with Teddy on his heels. The glass in the door rattled as it slammed shut behind them. “I’ve been told you’re one of the best, Hooper, and that you are in favor of what the suffragists espouse. I hope both sentiments prove true.”

  Octavius smirked at Morgan before studying Teddy. “I’m better than they think I am.” He motioned for them to sit. “I thought you had a lawyer.” He raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner.

  Morgan sighed. “We do, but I’m afraid he’s not as competent as I would like. He’s yet to speak with the judge, and he believes we must wait for something drastic to occur to ensure the freeing of our wives and the other women prisoners.”

  Octavius shook his head. “Incompetent fool. I’ve spoken to the judge twice today and expressed the mounting concern that numerous women could die or require daily force-feedings to remain alive. He’s appalled at the potential for bad press, and I’m confident that they will be released early next week.”

  “Will it be too late for some of them by then?” Teddy asked, his shoulders tensed.

  “They won’t allow one of those women to become a martyr to the cause. That would galvanize even those who are only mildly interested in enfranchisement. That’s the last thing they want—believe me.” Octavius steepled his fingers as he watched Teddy with blatant curiosity.