Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7

by Ramona Flightner

  “Public support seems to be shifting toward the jailed suffragists,” Morgan murmured.

  “A death would be unpardonable,” Octavius said in a flat voice. “It would also highlight the incompetence of these prisons and workhouses in last year’s congressional investigation.”

  “How is it that a successful lawyer as yourself has the time and inclination to aid the women of the movement?” Teddy asked.

  “I have a personal interest in ensuring the women are released, having suffered minimally for their beliefs.” He smirked as he quirked an eyebrow at Teddy. “As you know, I’m a particular friend of your wife. She’s a remarkable woman.”

  Teddy stiffened at Hooper’s words before forcing himself to relax after noting the pleasure his reaction brought Octavius. “Zylphia is a woman to be esteemed, and it’s fortunate you were able to see her fine qualities.”

  Morgan’s gaze flit between the two men engaged in a staring match and frowned. “Mr. Goff and I are thankful you are dedicated to the cause and that you are using your influence to ensure our wives and their colleagues are freed.” Morgan elbowed Teddy in the side as he rose and held out his hand to Octavius. “I trust you will notify us with any news?”

  Octavius nodded and shook Morgan’s hand. He nodded to Teddy, who refused to offer his hand.

  Teddy followed Morgan from the office and speared him with a severe look to remain silent until they were out of the building. When they’d emerged onto the street and walked toward the Willard Hotel, Teddy took a deep breath. “Now you can tell me how I was an ass.”

  Morgan chuckled. “I think you were remarkably controlled when he implied an impropriety between him and Zee. I would never have been that restrained.”

  Teddy let out another breath, and the remaining tension leaked out. They turned off F Street to Fourteenth Street and into Old Ebbitt’s Saloon. “I hear this is a good place for a drink.” After ordering drinks in the Old English Room, they moved to a table in the corner.

  “Do you think he’s as good as he believes he is?” Teddy took a swig of whiskey. “He seemed cocky.”

  Morgan laughed, almost spitting out his sip of beer. “That’s because you’ll never like him, no matter what he does. You’ll always hate him for his friendship with Zee. And you must consider it a friendship until you’ve been told otherwise. It isn’t fair to your wife.” He glanced around the room at the eclectic decor of animal heads mounted on the wall and antique beer steins lined up over the bar. “I do think he is as capable as he believes. The fact he’s spoken to the judge twice today is a positive beginning.”

  “But is that a good sign? I’d think one conversation would be enough.”

  Morgan shook his head. “For a taciturn Englishman like yourself, it would be. However, it never hurts to add pressure. Besides, if the judge didn’t want to take Hooper’s call, he wouldn’t have. I think it indicates the judge must be growing desperate to find a way to save face and the women who’ve been imprisoned.”

  Teddy sighed, shifting so he could cross his legs. “I fear both sides will declare victory in this battle of wills. All I care is that Zee and Parthena are freed.” He stared at Morgan. “And I want my wife home, away from all this.”

  Morgan nodded. “I agree. However, I refuse to force Parthena. I know well enough she’ll not bend to my will, and I want her to return of her own volition.”

  Teddy took a long drink of his whiskey. “I hope we are both fortunate to have our wives at home without any further trauma to them or to us.”

  Morgan raised his glass in a salute, and they sat in silence as they contemplated what more could be done for their wives.

  Zylphia lurched to her feet, falling almost instantly to her knees before crawling to the side of her cell. She curled into a ball in the corner when she heard footsteps approaching, her arms clasped around her ankles, like a turtle retracting into its shell. She shivered at the sound of the keys clanking against the orderly’s belt, her stomach in knots as she knew what it meant. The scraping of metal against the floor caused her to hug herself even tighter as the shaking began.

  “It’s that time,” a taunting voice called out as the cell door slid open. “I can see you’re excited to see us.” His laugh sounded throughout the cell.

  Zylphia peered out of a small gap between her arm and knee and watched them set the chair in the center of the room. Unable to stop her quivering when the other male orderlies entered the room, she hugged into herself with all her might. She grunted when someone tugged on her arms and another pulled at her shoulders, dragging her toward the chair as she fought them with her meager strength.

  “No!” she yelled. “Let me go!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she kicked out, knocking the chair over.

  “Cease!” a booming voice decreed. She was dropped to the ground with a thud. “She is to be released today and will undergo no further forced-feedings.”

  Zylphia curled into herself again and peeked to determine if this was a ruse or not. Her strength waned, and she did not have the energy to fight them for much longer. When she was commanded to stand, she let go of her legs and uncurled herself. She met the gaze of the person giving the orders and relaxed to the floor.

  When he motioned for them to lift her up, she screamed. “You liar! You fiend!” Tears poured down her cheeks again as they tugged her closer to the chair. Instead of forcing her to sit, they dragged her from the cell and down the hall to a communal shower. The male orderlies left, and female orderlies approached her. They stripped her of her jail clothes as frigid water poured from the shower spigots.

  “Bathe,” one of the women orderlies demanded, with a finger pointing at the shower.

  Zylphia shook her head and sat on a bench. She flinched as clothes were thrown at her, the clothes she’d worn when she had traveled to Occoquan nearly two weeks ago. She fingered the fine fabric before slipping the dress over her head. It hung on her, at least two sizes too big, and her hands shook as she did up the buttons on the front of her dress. She looked for her fine jacket, but it was nowhere in sight.

  When another orderly motioned to her, she rose, splaying a hand on the wall to maintain her balance. She walked with ginger care down the hallway to the entrance of the jail with seven other women. She looked for Parthena but did not see her. Once outside, the doors clanged shut behind them. No crowds awaited them. No journalists were present to note their appearance or mistreatment in the jail. A few members from the NWP were here, and they ushered the women into waiting cabs to return to Cameron House for care and evaluation by a doctor.

  After climbing into one of the taxis and crawling under a blanket, Zylphia looked out the window at the gray late-November morning. She massaged her throat and held her other hand over her abdomen and marveled at all the people continuing on with life as though nothing momentous had occurred. Unsuccessful in blinking back her tears, Zylphia watched the world speed by as though through a rain-drenched window and wondered how life would ever return to normal.

  Chapter 18

  Teddy wandered the small sitting room that was part of the suite of hotel rooms he’d rented in Washington. Zylphia had been released from jail five days ago to be cared for initially at Cameron House. Two days ago, he had moved her to the hotel and had ensured she was comfortable. He scratched at his four-day growth of beard and tugged at his hair sticking out in odd places. He turned toward the bedroom door as it creaked open. “Good afternoon.”

  Zylphia’s smile barely curved her lips, and she crept from the doorway to the settee, keeping her hand on assorted pieces of furniture the entire way to provide support. Her lips were chapped and scabbed in places, and her cheekbones protruded more than the last time he had seen her in August. She eased onto the settee and pulled a throw blanket over her. “What day is it?” she murmured.

  “Friday.” He remained standing by the window, his expression now hidden by the influx of bright light behind him.

  “When was I released?” Her words were
scratchy, but she smiled her thanks as Teddy handed her a glass of cold water, sighing with pleasure as it soothed her throat.

  “Monday. You spent two days at Cameron House, and then I brought you here.”

  She shivered, and he placed another blanket over her legs. “But why did you bring me here?” she asked softly. “They would have cared for me there.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her whispered question. “I wanted to care for you, Zee, and there’s no place for me in the apartment you share with Rowena.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I refused to be denied seeing you again, Zee. No matter how you may feel, you are my wife.”

  “I would never deny wanting to see you,” Zylphia protested. She scooted over on the edge of the settee as though to lean against the armrest. It also gave him plenty of room to sit beside her. Instead Teddy perched against the windowsill.

  “Those women you’ve aligned yourself with would,” Teddy said in a flat voice. “They barred me from speaking with the doctor who cared for you. Could you explain why they’d do such a thing?”

  “Teddy,” Zylphia whispered, holding out her hand to him as she fought to hide the anxiety in her eyes.

  He watched her closely and remained across the room from her, not taking her hand.

  “They’re overprotective is all. I was sick when I left jail.” Her smile failed to soothe him. “I want you to care for me here.”

  Teddy sighed, his arms crossed over his middle. “I’m trying, Zee. I’m trying very hard.”

  “What do you mean?” She turned her head, squinting to make out his expression.

  “Everything in me screams to pack up everything here and bring you back to Boston. To take you away from women who would readily plan for any harm to befall you.” His arms tensed as he spoke, as though forcing himself to remain motionless.

  Zylphia rolled her eyes. “I’m my own person, Teddy. I decided to join those pickets. I knew the risks. I knew, if I was arrested, that I’d be sent to jail.”

  “Well, it seems you succeeded, and public sentiment turned, just as your Miss Paul had hoped.” He tossed the recent copy of the Suffragist onto the table between them, with a picture by Nina Allender of women peering out from behind jail bars on the cover. “Seems that the thought of so many women on the verge of starving themselves to death for the cause has made many rethink their position.”

  “I wonder if the president has,” Zylphia whispered, her eyes lit with excitement. “It means it was all worth it.” Her smile faded as she fought tears.

  Teddy frowned as he noted her tears before nodding and moving from the window to sit on a chair facing her. “I knew you’d say that. Do you know how hard we worked to release you?” At her blank stare, he shook his head in frustration. “Every minute you were in jail, Morgan and I were searching to find a way to ensure your release.”

  “Morgan is here? How is Parthena?”

  He frowned as he watched her. “I’d think you’d know. You were jailed with her.”

  She shook her head. “They separated us from the very beginning. And then, once the hunger strike started, I barely had the energy to worry about myself.” She shook her head as though ashamed.

  “She’s with her husband in a room here. He was insistent on caring for her when she was released from the workhouse.” Teddy sighed. “Morgan was a good partner to have as we worked for your release.” He studied her as she nodded with little interest in the work that had entailed. “We met your Mr. Hooper.”

  Zylphia glared at him. “He isn’t my anything.”

  “He seems to believe you were close friends. Much closer than when I met him in August.”

  She fidgeted under his severe stare. “Then he’s delusional. Not all men who believe they are my friends are my friends.”

  Teddy watched her closely for a moment. “I have to know, Zee. Did you even once think of me? Of what you being harmed would do to me?”

  Zylphia sighed. “This isn’t about you. This is about me, proclaiming my rights as a woman in this country.”

  “In a country that no longer sees you as a citizen because you married me,” Teddy snapped. He clamped his jaw shut and leaned forward, his hands held together as though he were in prayer, his face leaning against his hands. Finally he raised his head and looked at Zylphia. “Did you think of me?” He enunciated each word, as though they were torn from him.

  She sank into the settee as the fight left her. “No. Not in that way.”

  Teddy tilted his head to the side. “Then in what way, Zee?”

  Zee rubbed at her cheek and seemed surprised to find it dry of any tears. “You used to take such pride in me. In my wild antics. In the thought of me obtaining the vote.” The eloquence of her flat voice spoke to her despair. “When I decided to picket that last time, I thought of how angry I’ve been with you. My defiance was against you too. It gave me further strength of purpose.”

  Teddy rocked backward in his chair. “Of course. You, in all your juvenile tendencies, had to find a way to strike back at me.” He met her irate glare. “Congratulations, Zee. You succeeded.”

  “You have what you want. Why can’t I work toward what I want?” Zylphia demanded, grimacing and holding a hand to her throat. She raised the cup of water and took a long sip. “I’m only thankful I’m recovering enough to testify next month.”

  Teddy rose, and he now gripped the back of the chair. He seemed to contemplate if he would lift it and fling it against the wall. After a long moment, his grip lessened. “Do you have any idea what it did to me to learn you had been jailed? That it took three men to hold you down to force-feed you? To then be denied entrance to your sickroom?”

  Zylphia glared at him. “Yes, be offended because you, as a man, were denied something.” She flushed as her husband flinched.

  Teddy watched her with disappointment and disillusionment. “Do you truly believe that, if I gave up my citizenship as an Englishman, your life would improve? I know you wouldn’t cease with these actions, putting yourself in harm’s way.” He shook his head. “I know you are angry with me. You’re angry with the world because you believe a wrong has been done against you against your will. And it has. But that anger won’t change anything, Zee. Congress won’t care next week when you convince them of the fallacy of their law. The Supreme Court didn’t care in 1915. It won’t turn you back into an American. It won’t allow you to vote when women do obtain the right to vote here. Because you will still be seen as an alien.”

  “Yes, because I’m a woman, and I have no voice, and I have no rights! Why can’t you see that? You, a man, can do whatever you damn well please. You can attack me on the street for speaking my truth, and I’m the one who is sent to jail. You can marry whomever you want, with no threat of losing your citizenship. Why can’t you see that it’s unjust? That there’s nothing wrong with wanting more?” Tears now streamed down her face as she watched her husband with open heartbreak.

  Teddy sank on the settee next to her but did not touch her. “I am not that man you speak of. Please tell me you know that.” He watched her with devastated eyes. “Zee, I love you. The one truth in my life is that I love you.” He waited a moment for her to say something, watching as her tears fell.

  “I’m sorry you feel such anger inside you, my darling. I know you do. I hate that I’ve caused you pain. That you feel as though I’ve … betrayed you.” He took a long breath. “I realize your work here is important to you. I … I shouldn’t have come. I see that now. You don’t need me here.” He watched her with fading hope for a contradictory sign, but none came.

  She watched him with wide, luminous blue eyes but remained mute.

  He rose and moved toward the bedroom. “I’ll leave you, Zee, to recover and regroup with your colleagues. Forgive me for intruding and thinking you’d want me here.”

  Parthena woke in a warm bed, her body cushioned on a comfortable mattress with a soft pillow underneath her head. She squinted as she deciphered where she was. The walls painted a
soft yellow, the white crown molding and the blue curtains were foreign to her. She closed her eyes as she heard a door close and feigned sleep.

  Soft footsteps approached the bed, and she forced herself to remain relaxed as though she slumbered. A deep sigh came, and then the mattress dipped beside her on the large bed. Morgan’s scent wafted over her, and she fought tears at his nearness.

  “Oh, Hennie,” he whispered. He kissed her softly on her forehead before settling beside her.

  After a few moments, Parthena opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. He lay on his back with his hands linked over his stomach and his feet crossed at his ankles. Her eyes widened as a tear leaked out before his hand chased it away.

  “Don’t cry,” she croaked. If she’d had the voice, she would have squealed as Morgan reared up and loomed over her.

  “Hennie!” He grasped her by her shoulders for a moment before releasing her when she winced at his touch. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just a bit bruised. And sore,” she breathed. “Is there any ice?” At his confused stare, she continued to speak softly. “Anything cold to soothe my throat?”

  He traced a hand over one of her eyebrows before leaping from the bed and racing to the door to bark an order outside. Soon he entered with a bucket full of ice. He set it down on the table beside the bed and then eased her to a sitting position. He slipped a piece into her mouth, and the worry lines bracketing his eyes eased when she groaned in relief.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. He continued to place chips in her mouth until she motioned for him to stop. He rose, and she reached out a hand for him to rejoin her on the bed. He eyed her warily but climbed atop the bedding and rested beside her. He laid on his side, his head on one of his hands.