Banished Love

by Ramona Flightner

  “I’m sorry, Col.”

  “For what, Rissa? You’ve done nothing to encourage him. He’s the one who should be ashamed.”

  “But you know how things are, Col. If he is acting this way, people will say it is because I must be doing something to entice him,” I whispered, unable to meet his eyes. “What if my visits to see Gabriel become known? I will seem like a woman vying for the attention of two men. I will be seen as a woman who doesn’t know the bounds of propriety.”

  “You, as a suffragette, must know better than that. And when have you ever cared what people say? Or about propriety?” He chucked me under the chin and I met his gaze. His attempt at levity failed to hide his anxiety at my news. “Now you’re so dirty with soot you’ll need to wash up for dinner, too.”

  “Col, I can’t tell Da. He’ll stop me from teaching. He’ll insist I stay at home. I can’t be forced to spend my days with Mrs. Smythe.”

  “I’ll talk with him, but you have to be willing to accept what he says. What’s most important is ensuring you are safe.”

  I nodded my agreement and Colin winked before he slipped out the door.

  CHAPTER 28

  “LUCAS,” I CALLED OUT. “Lucas!” I thought I had seen Lucas hurrying up the steps into the Old Howard Theater as I neared Scollay Square the following day, but he did not respond to my call. Uncertain if I would be allowed inside, I rushed toward the theater, holding onto my hat, any rapid movement hampered by my long skirts.

  My day had so far been uneventful, and I had been thankful for its normalcy. I felt worn- out emotionally after my recent encounters with Gabriel, Florence and Cameron, and relished a quiet day. Florence had apologized for leaving Sophronia’s abruptly, having had an unsuccessful meeting with a society matron about summer tutoring.

  I had promised da, after a tense discussion the previous evening in his study, that I would come straight home each day after school. Due to a trolley accident backing up all traffic on Cambridge Street, I had decided I could keep my promise by walking to Scollay Square and boarding one of the underground subway trains. However, after I saw Lucas entering the Old Howard Theater, I decided to postpone my train ride home. Hopefully, he would be able to escort me home and I was curious what he was doing in the West End.

  I reached the steps to the Old Howard, a bit fearful about entering the theater unchaperoned on a Friday afternoon. I took a deep breath for courage before ascending the steps, marveling at the three large Gothic-inspired arched glass windows heralding its previous life as a church. As the door squeaked and clunked shut behind me, any resemblance to a church disappeared.

  In the dim hallway, I made out plush red rugs and gilt chairs and mirrors, while the faint scent of stale cologne and cheap perfume wafted around me. I heard laughter from the backstage area, imagining the various vaudeville members and burlesque showgirls arriving in preparation for the evening entertainments.

  I crept inside and waited for a few moments for someone to catch me skulking in the shadows, but no one arrived. I walked down the dark hallway, belatedly realizing there was a doorway covered in velvet to my right. I poked my head through the curtain into the main theater area.

  Only a few electric lights weakly illuminated the stage area, casting long shadows across most of it and the remainder of the theater. I entered into the box nearest the doorway, absently noting the plush red velvet chairs and the flowing curtains on either side of the stage. I focused my attention on the dimly lit stage, where three pianos stood forming a small oval. All three were occupied, two by handsome black men and one by Lucas.

  I did not recognize the song they played, and they seemed to be composing and competing with each other as the song progressed. I watched, entranced and fascinated, as I had never seen Lucas so animated and happy. I sat in awe as he kept pace with the other players.

  I quickly became lost in the joyous, playful music, so different from the ponderous, plodding church hymns preferred by Mrs. Smythe. After nearly an hour of sitting quietly, they stopped playing. I could see Lucas laughing, before he stood to shake hands with both men and leave.

  Through luck or misfortune, he chose to walk up the aisle that would bring him directly past me. He stopped short as he caught sight of me, eyes flaring with concern.

  “Rissa!” he whispered. “What are you doing here?” He glanced toward the stage to see the two men watching us.

  I stood, reaching out to him, wonder in my voice and expression. “Lucas, that was the most amazing music! I wish I could hear you play like this all the time.”

  He grabbed my elbow and ushered me out of the theater into the dark hallway. I became momentarily blinded in the unlit hall and tripped over a small wrinkle in the rug, nearly causing us to fall. Lucas kept a tight grip on my arm, leading me to the front and out of the theater’s creaky door.

  I turned toward Lucas, happiness continuing to fill me at the music I had heard, only to see him glaring down at me.

  “What could you possibly have been thinking, Rissa?” he demanded angrily. “Don’t you realize that could have been very dangerous for you, to wander into a darkened, almost empty theater?”

  “Lucas, I called out to you, tried to catch your attention.”

  “What if it hadn’t been me?” he demanded.

  “I would at least have enjoyed the music.”

  Lucas shook his head, continuing to look away, seemingly embarrassed before he met my eyes. “You liked it?” he asked, with a cautious, hopeful expression.

  “No, I loved it,” I replied with a full smile. “As I said inside, I wish you could play like that all the time.”

  “Well, you are almost the only one in the family to think so,” he replied with a hint of bitterness, continuing to propel me down the steps. He turned away from the trolley stop, dragging me toward a hole-in-the-wall tea and coffee shop on Cornhill Street off bustling Scollay Square.

  The shabby establishment—with tattered upholstered chairs, scarred wooden tabletops and sooted ceiling—was a far cry from the tea shops with polished marble-topped tables I was accustomed to. Today it suited Lucas, away from the linen store and no longer dressed at the height of fashion.

  Lucas collapsed into a chair, groaning softly. He watched me for a few moments before speaking. “I wish Father and Mother could understand my desire to play music not heard at church.” He sighed. “To play at all,” he murmured.

  “I doubt they truly understand how much you love it,” I said, reaching out to take his hand. “If you don’t tell them, or play for them, displaying your joy as you just did, they will never know.”

  “You saw what happened with Mrs. Smythe.”

  “I wouldn’t judge your parents’ reaction by hers,” I muttered. “Lucas, what is it that you would really like to do with your life?”

  “I like working with my father. I do, Rissa,” he said just a bit too forcefully. “It’s just that I would prefer to play the piano all day. Be a musician. But that will not happen. I would never make a living on that, and I couldn’t do that to Father. He has dreams that the linen shop should go to my son, if the day ever comes to pass that I have a child.”

  “Lucas, you should be happy,” I said, frowning.

  Lucas continued to play with my fingers for a few more minutes, before letting them go with a long sigh. He began to tap the tabletop as though it were a piano keyboard with the fingers of his left hand. “Rissa, life isn’t always about attaining all of our dreams. There are times you have to compromise on some of them, for your family or for your own well-being.”

  “Then what is the point of dreams?”

  “Just don’t become so blinded by your dreams and how you envision your future that you let life pass you by,” Lucas said.

  “But aren’t you just letting life pass you by, by not following your dreams?” I countered.

  “I can see that neither of us will win this argument,” he replied with a laugh, glancing up to order a pot of tea for me and a coffee for himse
lf from the waitress. “Rissa, I know, and have known, my destiny since I was a young boy. I am to run my father’s shop. There is very little I can do to change that. I will have a good living, play piano music in the evenings. Continue to buy cheap sheet music now that it has become available. And I will think myself content.”

  He looked anything but content as he described his life. I remembered the unadulterated joy I had seen as he had played with the other musicians, and I wished that were Lucas’s future. “I just wish,” I began, and then stopped, realizing anything I wished for him he would already have dreamt of before. I would never want to cause Lucas pain, so I stopped speaking.

  “I know, Rissa. That is what makes you such a good cousin and friend,” he replied. He clasped my hand again before leaning away as the coffee and tea were delivered.

  “Colin tells me that you’ve gone to see that Gabriel McLeod a few times at his warehouse.” Lucas’s eyes, generally so friendly, challenged me.

  I gasped involuntarily, confirming his statement. “Lucas…” I began but was cut short by his whispered tirade.

  “What on earth could you have been thinking? You know how much this could damage your reputation. You could even be forced to marry him,” Lucas snarled.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said although I felt a small thrill at the thought.

  “Do you want to give up teaching? Do you want to spend all your days at home with Mrs. Smythe?” Lucas continued. “If your da is angry enough, he could make you stop teaching. Or the school board could find you unfit. Immoral.”

  “Lucas, calm down,” I entreated.

  “Calm down? Calm down? Clarissa, I thought you were the sensible one. After Cameron, I thought you’d wait, find someone acceptable, someone who wouldn’t hurt you. You know we don’t think Gabriel is acceptable for you.”

  “Why am I the sensible one? Can’t I have hopes and dreams for myself that are independent of my family’s? Shouldn’t you want me to find someone who treats me well and seems to generally want and like me? And who are you to decide who is acceptable?”

  “Sav’s making the monumental mistake of marrying Jonas, and there’s not a thing I can do to stop her,” Lucas said, fire flashing in his eyes at Jonas’s name. “I don’t want to see you suffer a similar fate.”

  He moved to push back his chair and stand. I gripped his hand, trying to prevent him from leaving. “Lucas,” I called out, but he tore his hand from mine and strode out of the coffee shop.

  I sat in stunned silence, uncertain exactly how our conversation had ended so poorly. I jolted as someone sat down across from me, taking Lucas’s place.

  “Seems as stuffy and pompous now as the first time I saw him,” Richard commented with a wry smile.

  I sighed, relaxing in his company. “Hello, Mr. McLeod,” I murmured.

  He smiled as he signaled for a new cup of coffee. He settled his tall, broad-shouldered frame into the chair, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “Is he ever in an agreeable mood?”

  “Yes, he’s just upset with me at the moment.”

  “Why should he be?”

  “Lucas is simply overprotective of me. Like Colin.”

  “Then Colin has a strange way of showing his protective nature, leaving you behind with Gabe at the warehouse.”

  I blushed, realizing I wouldn’t easily win this argument. However, I hoped I had turned his attention away from Lucas.

  “Rich, leave her alone,” Gabriel said, pulling up another chair with a loud scraping noise, sitting next to me. His eyes flashed with pleasure as he looked at me. His work clothes were free of their habitual dust, and he wore a faded black coat with no tie.

  “Gabriel!” I gasped, my mind immediately returning to our kiss.

  “I hadn’t realized you were joining us for coffee, Clarissa,” Gabriel said, watching me with warm tenderness.

  “I wasn’t. I’m sorry to intrude. I was here with Lucas, but he became upset and left,” I said quickly. I stopped speaking and bit my lip, worried I might begin to ramble.

  “Lucas, the friendly cousin?” Gabriel asked as he shared an amused glance with Richard.

  I glared at Gabriel, refraining from responding, causing Richard to laugh. Gabriel leaned back into his chair, seeming completely at ease.

  “What upset him?” Gabriel asked, nodding his thanks as a cup of coffee was delivered.

  “I discovered something that he keeps hidden from the family, and he seemed upset by that. Then he abruptly changed the topic onto you and me”—I nodded toward Gabriel—“and he became increasingly agitated as he spoke of you until he finally left.”

  “Something hidden from the family?” Richard asked.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. McLeod,” I muttered. “A secret hobby that brings him tremendous pleasure but of which his parents greatly disapprove.”

  “A secret hobby?” Gabriel and Richard shared amused glances. “What could that be?” Gabriel asked. Then he and Richard began to toss ideas back and forth in rapid-fire succession.

  “Dancing on the stage with a boa?”

  “Or the cancan in all its finery?” Richard asked with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

  “Singing vaudeville songs?”

  “Telling jokes like a comedian with a dancing monkey as his sidekick?” Richard countered.

  “Stop!” I gasped, laughing hard. “No, it’s nothing like that. He just likes to play the piano.” I clapped my hand over my mouth.

  “Oh, well, that’s rather boring.” Richard sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “I would hardly consider that a secret worth guarding.”

  “There’s more that you aren’t telling,” Gabriel said watching me.

  “No, no more. You two are a menace. I have already said too much,” I replied.

  Gabriel smiled back, reaching out to hold my hand under the table for a moment. I gripped his hand firmly in return. I thought fleetingly of Florence, realizing this was what she was missing and suddenly comprehended all she had lost.

  Another long sigh came from Richard. “Now I am stuck with two lovebirds.”

  I jolted, letting go of Gabriel’s hand. “No, well, yes, but I hope you are not uncomfortable with us,” I stammered.

  Richard seemed on the verge of laughing again before he ungraciously kicked Gabriel in the leg, his eyes arrested on someone who had just entered the little coffee shop. My back, partially to the door, prevented me from seeing the person.

  “Clarissa,” Gabriel whispered, leaning casually away and looking formidable and cold, “act as though you can’t stand us, and we are bothering you.”

  I stared at him and Richard in confusion but finally nodded after another fierce glare from him and a grunt of agreement from Richard. I attempted to calm my racing heart, placing a bored, nearly disgusted look on my face. I looked down, not wishing to see Richard or Gabriel—who had recently seemed so happy—now so angry.

  A few moments later, a pair of fine, perfectly polished black leather shoes came into my view. I slowly glanced up, noting expensive black satin pants covering wirily thin legs, a garish mauve waistcoat and black jacket. A black top hat remained in place over dull dishwater-brown hair. I raised an eyebrow at the extravagant clothes for a visit to a shabby coffeehouse.

  “Henry,” Gabriel drawled, thinly veiled menace in his voice, “lovely to see you here. So good to see you’ve recovered.” At this came a small snicker from Richard who refrained from speaking.

  Henry fisted his hands, stepping forward as though he wanted to do battle. However, as I looked over his thin, fragile-looking form, I hoped he had the sense to refrain from challenging the muscular McLeod brothers. “If he,” Henry said, pointing to Richard, “had even a sliver of decency, he would have ensured I had returned to good health.”

  “Well, there’s no need to, now that you’ve found us at our favorite coffee shop and shown us to be in such fine form,” Richard taunted.

  “I almost needed a doctor,” Henry whined in a high-pitched
effeminate voice. His pale brown eyes squinted together as though he needed glasses but was too vain to use them.

  “The key word there, dear cousin, was ‘almost,’” Gabriel replied without a shred of sympathy in his voice.

  “How can you be so unfeeling to your own flesh and blood?” Henry nearly wailed. “When I think of all that Mother did, taking in you worthless lot after the timely death of your parents, I am appalled you do not do more to express your thanks.”

  He appeared upset, though I sensed that he relished the opportunity to cause any possible mischief in his cousins’ lives.

  “Yes, we know all about your mother’s charity and generosity, especially when it came to the rod,” Richard drawled, reaching out to grip Gabriel’s forearm to prevent him from rising.

  “It is so appalling, having relations such as you,” Henry continued in a loud, carrying voice. From the little I could see, he had begun to attract a small audience.

  “If you have a shred of self-preservation in you, you should walk out that door and not cross my path for the next decade,” Gabriel ground out in a menacing voice, his arms strung taut as though on the verge of striking.

  Henry nodded, seeming quite pleased with the havoc he had wrought. He spun on his polished heel and left.

  “Gabe, calm down now,” Richard demanded, still holding onto his arm.

  He and Gabriel shared a long look, until Richard finally released his arm. Gabriel let out a low grunt, leaning heavily against the back of his chair.

  “The bastard,” Gabriel hissed. “What the hell does he mean by the timely death of our parents? What right does he have to come in here and stir things up?”

  “You know he only does it because he knows he can bother you,” I murmured. “He knows your most sensitive subject and finds great joy at poking at it.” I smiled at him trying to express my sympathy at having such a cousin.

  A fleeting look of embarrassment passed over Gabriel’s face. He glanced at me with tenderness, reaching out to grip my hand gently. “I’m just thankful he didn’t focus on you,” he murmured.