Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5

by Ramona Flightner

  Savannah flinched at her father’s anguished whisper.

  He rose and paced toward the mantel. As Savannah spoke, he held up a hand. He faced the crackling fire, staring into the flames. “Please, don’t say anything. I’m again acting as though this is your fault. As though you have something to atone for. Whereas I’m the one who needs forgiveness.”

  He turned to face his daughter with tormented eyes. “Forgive me for failing you, Savannah. I realize now I chose not to see the subtle clues you showed us. I couldn’t bear to believe you would be treated in such a way. And now I realize the reality you suffered was much worse than anything I’d imagined.”

  “How do you know how I was treated?” Savannah asked, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “Your aunt Betsy and I spoke late into the night last evening. She detailed the little you told her. It was enough to give me nightmares.”

  “Did you speak with Mother about what Aunt Betsy said?”

  Martin sighed and nodded.

  Savannah’s breath hitched as she said, “So she understands now why I left.” She saw her father wince at the hopeful tone of her voice.

  “Don’t become hopeful. She believes you …” He paused as though looking for the words. He looked away, unwilling to watch the hope dim from his daughter’s face as his words resonated.

  “Fabricated the reason to abandon my good home and bring shame onto the entire family,” Savannah said, her voice laced with dull resignation.

  “Exactly,” Martin said. He approached the settee and sat next to her. “I’m sorry for your mother.”

  “At least you understand. Thank you.” She leaned into him. “Although I don’t believe you need it, I forgive you.”

  “Thank you, my Savannah. I find I very much need it. It’s like a balm to a festering wound. As for your mother, I don’t know as she will ever change her mind.” He handed Savannah his clean linen handkerchief, and she scrubbed her face.

  “I’m trying to accept her as she is, although I know I’ll never be close to her again.” She turned to sit sideways and to better face him. “I’m sorry for you. I wish she were more understanding.” At his inquisitive furrowing of his forehead, she whispered, “Aunt Betsy and I had plenty of time to chat while I visited. I badgered her into telling me about you and Mother.”

  “She had no right, Savannah. That was not her story to tell.”

  “Maybe not. But you were never going to tell me, and I needed to better understand Mother. I didn’t want my disappointment and hurt to evolve into hate.”

  He nodded. “I can understand. It doesn’t paint either of us in a good light.” He squeezed her hand. “Whatever you imagine, however you believe what you have learned has helped you understand your mother better, never doubt what you knew to be true when you lived at home. We loved you and Lucas, and we love you now. We’ve come to care a great deal for each other. Never doubt the affection we’ve shown.

  “The only time I’ve known regret since I married your mother has been recently. When I learned how you were treated by Jonas.” Martin met her worried gaze. “I want you to know I plan on visiting Jonas and demanding he release you from this marriage. He has no right to continue to wish you home after how he has treated you.”

  “Please be careful. I know Jonas, and he’ll be enraged that you believe you have the right to give him any form of instruction.”

  “I have failed in almost all aspects as a father once he was introduced to you. I refuse to fail you now.”

  Savannah blinked away tears. “Thank you.”

  “Is there any truth to the stories in the paper about you and a carpenter?”

  Savannah blushed and looked away. Then she straightened her shoulders and met her father’s worried gaze with a hopeful one. “Yes, there is. Did you ever meet Jeremy McLeod? Gabriel’s youngest brother?” She watched as her father took a moment to think through the people he had met before he shook his head no. “He befriended me last summer. When I searched for my baby. We became close.”

  “I can’t approve.”

  “Father,” Savannah began but was hushed by Martin.

  “I can’t approve until I can meet him and see for myself that he treats you well. I need to take his measure. See for myself how he is and not be guided by your mother or anyone else.”

  “You liked Gabriel.”

  “I did, and that is something this Jeremy has in his favor. But he is his own man, and I will judge him for who he is. Not who his family is.” He smiled at Savannah. “When can I meet him?”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange,” Savannah whispered, fighting tears. “I believe you will like him.”

  “The fact you think so highly of him is in his favor.” He gripped her hand as he rose to leave.

  CHAPTER 3

  “YOU SEEM TO BE LABORING under a misapprehension,” Jonas said. He sat in a polished mahogany swivel chair behind a large mahogany desk. The desk filled a quarter of the room, as though its size alone proclaimed the importance of the man sitting behind it. Sitting across from double doors, large windows let in late afternoon sunlight onto the desk. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, and thick red-and-black Persian carpets covered the wooden floors. A faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, mingling with the aroma from the hothouse roses sitting on a table near a window to the left of the door.

  Jonas’s navy jacket was slung over the back of a nearby chair, and he sat wearing a pristine white shirt, navy waistcoat and burgundy tie. Gold cuff links caught the sunlight. He crossed his legs, creasing his tailored suit pants, watching his father-in-law with thinly veiled contempt.

  “I’ll have you know that no man has the right to treat my daughter as you have.” Martin Russell vibrated with fury as he watched his son-in-law. He wore an equally fine suit in a rich chocolate brown that highlighted his eyes. At this moment, they flashed with fury, appearing more black than brown.

  “You fail to understand that, when I married her, she became mine, to do with as I wish.”

  “She’s not a possession.”

  “No, she’s of less value, as she causes me no end of expense for her upkeep. Nor does she fulfill her one purpose in this marriage,” Jonas said.

  “You have no basis for complaint with Savannah. She has been a perfect wife for you from the first day.”

  “Only a father could believe such about a daughter like yours,” Jonas said as he steepled his fingers and watched Martin disdainfully.

  “Accuse me of being proud of my beautiful daughter. I see no shame in that. Charge her of any crime against you, and you are a liar.”

  “Careful, old man,” Jonas said. “I’d hate to sue you for slander.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d want any more scandal associated with you,” Martin said on a deep exhale. He took another deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “In whatever way you think you have been misused, I assure you my family’s suffering is worse.”

  “She had one task. One!” Jonas said with a slight rise in his voice. He slammed his hand down on the desk as he leaned forward and glared at Martin. “And she couldn’t fulfill the most basic task. I was assured she was the epitome of a refined woman. I couldn’t have been more misled.”

  “You were the most fortunate of men to have married my Savannah.”

  “With the influence of women such as your rebellious niece, Clarissa, I count myself cursed. Mrs. Montgomery needed more guidance than a woman accustomed to my social standing should have needed to know her place.”

  “Beating her into submission would never convince her to your way of thinking,” Martin hissed.

  “After all I did for her, bringing her into my world and introducing her to the finest of society, how dare she produce a girl? Why would I want a daughter? I needed a son!” Jonas roared as he rose to pace the small area behind his desk.

  “You are mad to believe she had any control over that outcome,” Martin said. “If you truly believe my daughter acted to thwart you in suc
h a manner, I’m glad she is free of you.”

  “Is that what you think?” Jonas asked as he turned to watch Martin with a possessive gleam in his eyes.

  “Yes. We will always regret our liaison with you.”

  “Finally something we have in common. My associates tell me your business is thriving of late. After a little … hiccup this summer, it appears your shop is more popular than ever.”

  Martin watched him, the pursing of his lips the only sign of his mounting tension. “I have been fortunate to have loyal customers.”

  “Yes, I imagine that is necessary when one is in trade. Such a precarious position to be in, isn’t it? Surviving solely on the whims of the customers and bankers.”

  “I repeat, we have been fortunate.”

  “All good fortune comes to an end,” Jonas said with a hint of steel. “Unless your daughter returns to me, I will ensure your business loans come due in the next month.”

  Martin paled before flushing with anger. “If you think for one moment that would induce me to consign my daughter to even one more hour in your company, you don’t know me.” He watched Jonas with loathing. He rose, tugging on the tail of his jacket. “I wish you a good day.”

  “Enjoy your month,” Jonas said as he settled into his chair.

  ***

  “MATILDA, YOU MUST SEE that Savannah cannot return to that man,” Martin said. He paced the upstairs parlor, moving toward the door to slam it shut. The paintings on the wall vibrated, one tilting to one side. He continued to march around the room, pushing ottomans out of his way as he made a circuit from the door to fireplace to piano and back.

  “Martin, there is no reason to act as you do,” Matilda said. She sat working on needlepoint, jabbing a needle with lilac thread in and out with precision. “You know as well as I do that Savannah’s tales of abuse are fabrications. She envisions herself some sort of martyr to that horrid cause Clarissa espouses.”

  “Do you even listen to yourself, Matilda? This is your daughter, our daughter, we are speaking of. The beautiful, vibrant girl we raised.”

  “No need to be so dramatic. She married well, as the women of my family are expected to.”

  Martin banged his hand against a side table, rattling it so hard the lamp shook. Matilda looked up from her needlepoint to meet his irate gaze. “Don’t tell me about socially acceptable behavior, Matilda. Don’t tell me about doing what is expected. If I recall, you experimented with your freedom.”

  “Yes, and look what it brought me!” She rose from her chair, tossing her linen to the vacated chair.

  “What did it bring you, Matilda? Tell me, after all this time, tell me.” Martin watched her with hurt, passion-filled eyes.

  “To a husband who will always see me as nothing more than damaged. To the decrepit South End.” She took a shuddering breath. “The one thing I could bring you, Martin, was social respectability. I think I fulfilled my part of the bargain.”

  “No, Mattie, no,” Martin whispered. His anger left him as quickly as it had come. He reached out toward her, cupping her face with one of his large palms. “I’ve never seen you as damaged. I’ve always seen you as too good for me. Living above a linen store when you come from Beacon Hill. How could you possibly want a man like me?”

  “I’ve done my duty,” Matilda said, blinking rapidly to forestall shedding any tears.

  “Is that how you see me, as a duty?” Martin asked, dropping his hand and flinching from her words.

  She turned to watch him. “Savannah is our concern, Martin.”

  “Yes, she is. But I will not allow you to dissuade me from speaking with you of this. We’ve never resolved this between us, Matilda. I thought—” He paused as though selecting his words with care. “I thought it better to never discuss the reason behind our marriage. To instead work toward forging a successful union.”

  “We’ve had nearly thirty years together, Martin. There is no reason to speak of this now.”

  “I think there is. I think that because of your … choices, you feel compelled to show your parents that you raised an exemplary daughter. One they would be proud of. I see now that their influence has been harmful.”

  “My parents are wonderful people.”

  “Only if you do and act as they wish you to. I, for one, am tired of feeling as though a puppet to their bidding.” Martin reached out and encased her slim arms in his large hands, gripping them gently. “Mattie, do you care for me at all?”

  “This is unseemly, Martin.”

  “I don’t believe it is. If you’re willing to consign your daughter to a loveless marriage, to a man who brutalizes her for the sake of regaining esteem in your parents’ eyes, I think you need to be frank with me. Is it because you’ve lived so long without knowing how I feel that you believe our daughter could live a similar life devoid of love?”

  “You’ve never treated me poorly,” Matilda said. “I would never have countenanced it.”

  “No, and I never will. I love you, Mattie. I have since I held you in my arms as you sobbed over the loss of your child.”

  She hissed in a breath, taken aback by his words. “Martin—”

  “Shh … I have, Mattie. I tried to tell you. I sang to you, songs about love. And every time I did, you turned away. I guess I was a coward and lost my opportunity to tell you how I truly felt.” He sighed, squeezing her arms for a moment. “I’ve always loved you, Mattie.”

  “Martin,” Matilda said as she shook her head and broke away from his gentle grip. She wiped at her cheeks, as her tears fell unchecked. “You have been a good man to me and a good father to the children.”

  Martin jerked his head back as though slapped. “I see. Yes, a good man. And, until now, a good provider.” He turned from her and paced toward the fireplace. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

  After a few moments, he spoke. “You are right, Matilda. Savannah is our concern. You believe she is fabricating stories to prevent her return to Jonas. I disagree. I believe her stories of mistreatment to be true. Do you believe any of what Betsy told me?” He turned to meet her gaze, anger lighting his eyes.

  “If you believe Betsy, you’ll start espousing her notions for women,” Matilda snapped.

  “Well, she may convert me to her way of thinking now that I’ve come to realize all that she’s done for our daughter.” Martin’s voice turned colder as he spoke with Matilda. “When will you accept that Jonas beat Savannah? That all of her so-called illnesses were to recover from his abuse?”

  “Martin, I never knew you to believe in fairy tales.”

  “Damn it, Matilda, I’m serious!” Martin roared. “How can you not see that our only living daughter was subjected to such hell? How can you not care?”

  “She married him. It is her duty to remain with him.”

  “If you truly believe that, then you aren’t the woman I’ve thought you were. I will not consign Savannah to an early grave simply because you are unable or unwilling to see sense. That is my duty as her father.”

  “Have you spoken with Savannah about this purported treatment at the hands of her husband?”

  “Of course. Did you never imagine, not even for a second, what it would take for Savannah to leave her husband’s home?” Martin asked. When Matilda remained resolutely quiet, he took a deep breath. “As my wife, I feel it is my duty to inform you that in one month’s time, there is every chance we will lose our living.”

  “What?” Matilda gasped, clutching one hand to her heart. She reached for her chair, nearly sitting on her needlepoint. She pushed it out of the way, thrusting it onto the floor.

  “Jonas informed me today that, in one month’s time, our loans will be called due.”

  “He can’t. He wouldn’t. He’s not that sort of man!”

  “He can. He will. And, Matilda, I think it’s time you accepted that, yes, he is that sort of man. He will do whatever he needs to ensure that Savannah returns to his home.”

  CHAPTER 4

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nbsp; I STOOD IN SOUTH STATION, my head tilted back as I stared at the main terminal waiting area. Muted light filtered in through high windows although, on this overcast day, no shaft of sunlight brightened the cavernous interior with its multileveled-coffered ceiling. I heard the clicking of a multitude of shoes on the marble floors but remained rooted in place, overwhelmed by memories of the last few times I was here.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the moments before Gabriel had boarded his train west. My heart clenched as I heard a conductor call, “All aboard!”—in an instant thrusting me back to that moment when Gabriel had left Boston. A cascade of images came: his piercing blue eyes studying me as though memorizing me; our last kiss; him walking away; Colin holding me in his arms as the train wended its way out of sight. I sniffled, and the strong scent of shoe polish reminded me of the day in early May last year when I had departed with Sophronia and Aunt Betsy. I had searched the crowd, hoping to find a familiar face before leaving Boston—for what I had envisioned was forever—only to find no one had come to see me off.

  I jerked as Colin touched my arm, and I opened my eyes, returning to the present. “Rissa, I’ve found a porter. He’ll help us with our trunks. Are you sure about where we should go?”

  “Of course. I know we’ll be welcomed.” I blinked back tears. “I can’t go to the house. Not now. Now that Da’s not there. I couldn’t live with her when he was alive, and it would be impossible for me to reside with her now.”

  “I’ve no desire to see her any sooner than necessary,” Colin said. “I bought a paper. It will inform us of the upcoming wakes and funerals.”

  We boarded a horse-drawn carriage, and I settled into one side of the seat, closing my eyes to the rocking motion. I heard Colin rustling the papers as he read.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  I peered at him to find him poking his head out the window and yelling up to the carriage driver. The carriage veered to the right, and I held my hands out to brace myself against the wall and ceiling, to prevent falling onto the floor. “Col, what’s the matter?” I asked.