“If this is how you are treated, dear, I now see how you have suffered!” Mrs. Masterson cried, gripping Mrs. Smythe’s hand. “Oh, how I fear for your darling stepdaughter. How she will suffer with him.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Smythe breathlessly.
She watched Da with trepidation but would not be prevented from her main objective, which I instinctively knew we had not yet reached.
The comment had piqued Colin and Da’s interest, though they tried to hide it. Colin attempted to watch them with a detached look in his eyes but failed miserably. Da glared at them but did not prevent them from continuing their conversation.
“He has already enticed her to visit his warehouse, unchaperoned. Can you imagine the scandal if that were to leak?” she said in a falsetto whisper as everyone in the room heard her words clearly. “And she met him and his horrid brother for coffee, in a most irreputable part of town. Alone.”
My eyes widened with alarm before I closed them. I did not wish to betray any guilt to them unnecessarily.
Gabriel gripped my hand painfully, causing me to gasp. He breathed “Sorry,” not wishing to call attention to us.
“Oh, I can only imagine the liberties that he took! He’s so unprincipled, so wild. I did my best with them, you must understand,” Mrs. Masterson entreated, her voice nearly cracking with her dismay. “Oh, my poor dear sister, married to such a man as his father. And now your dear Clarissa may have a similar fate.” She sighed dramatically, dabbing at one eye with a handkerchief.
Gabriel was so tense I thought he was going to fly out of his skin. I didn’t know how he remained seated. I kept waiting for him to speak, yet he never did. I glanced at Da and he seemed shocked by what she had said.
Da finally spoke, “I believe it may be a good time for you to leave, ma’am.”
He rose, showing her the door. She stood, shaking out her skirts and then glared in Gabriel’s direction. She sniffed in disdain as she looked at me before turning to leave the room. She had done her job well; the damage had been done.
Da reentered the room, glancing toward Colin and Mrs. Smythe. “I would like to have a conversation alone, with Mr. McLeod and Clarissa. If you wouldn’t mind?”
Colin threw me a worried, guilt-stricken glance but had no choice but to agree. Mrs. Smythe acquiesced, smiling smugly. Da waited for them to vacate the room, then shut the door with a quiet click.
He turned to face us, beginning to pace. He took deep breaths, and I hoped they would calm his sometimes vicious temper. He finally spoke.
“All right, young lady, you have some explaining to do.” He stood, breathing heavily, waiting for my explanation. I studied him and realized that though he appeared angry, he was not yet irate.
My mind raced at how I would describe my actions without incriminating Uncle Martin, Savannah, Colin and, at the same time, soothe my da’s anger. I sighed, thinking how many people had helped me in this endeavor. I took a deep breath and haltingly began to speak. “Well, you know that I first met Mr. McLeod after the incident at Uncle’s store,” I said, stalling for time. “We became friendly when he was hired to make bookshelves for my schoolroom. You’ve heard me speak often enough of the need for bookshelves. A friendship started and…”
“Are you telling me that he also visited your school? Without any of us knowing about it?” Da shouted at me. I gaped at him, not having foreseen that as such a concern. I had focused more on the solo warehouse visits.
“Da,” I entreated, holding out my hand toward him beseechingly. “It’s not that bad. My friend Florence Butler was there. And one time, he helped me in an argument with Cameron.” I heard Gabriel nearly choke at my words and glanced at him. He had closed his eyes briefly and was shaking his head at my folly.
“Do ye think that little butterfly of a girl could help ye if ye needed it?” he demanded, his accent thickening with his ire. “Why would ye feel the need to hide? To skulk around, like it shamed ye? If he’s an upstanding young man, why act in a shameful way?” he glowered at me, his anger at top steam. “Young lady, how long have ye been seein’ this man without me knowledge?”
“A few months, Da,” I said, refusing to feel chastised. “But Da!” I protested before he could explode at Gabriel. “Nothing has happened! All we have done is talk.”
“And ye let me, not long ago, defend ye to yer aunt, knowing ye had acted so shamefully?” he venomously spat out. “Ye let me make a fool of meself, knowing ye’d already played the, the…” But there he stopped, thankfully. He took a long calming breath, glaring at me the entire time.
“You should know better, Clarissa,” Da said wearily. He shook his head, after closing his eyes as though in resignation. “How could you not know better after what you went through with Cameron?”
“Sir, if I may say something,” Gabriel spoke up. I realized that his silence had been pronounced.
“No, you may not. There is nothing you can say at the moment to improve my impression of ye,” Da snapped. “Friend or no friend of Colin’s. When I think I’ve been welcoming ye into my home now for weeks an’ ye’d already played me the fool…” He exhaled a long breath, glowering at us both.
“Da!” I protested.
“Don’t ‘Da’ me, Clarissa darlin’,” he hissed in a dangerously low voice.
I watched him with dawning horror. His reddened face, furrowed brow and ire-infused eyes reminded me of a picture I’d seen once of a wild boar. I dreaded what he was to say and tensed reflexively. “This is my decision,” Da intoned. “You will not see him until I give my permission. If you still wish to see him again after that time, then I will consider it.”
I gasped in anguish. I couldn’t understand why this was happening. Gabriel gently enfolded my hand in his, in comfort.
“Consider it, mind you, I make no promises.” He glared at the two of us. “I expected better of you, young Mr. McLeod,” Da seethed. “And you, young lady, should try not to act in such a disgraceful manner. I should have listened to Rebecca’s recommendations. Taken them more seriously with concerns for your behavior.” He watched me with dark eyes, and I feared more than my relationship with Gabriel was at stake.
“This is unfair!” I protested, forcing myself to focus on the present.
“Enough!” Da bellowed. “This is my decision, Clarissa, and you will accept it,” Da snapped. He held a steady stare on Gabriel. I felt Gabriel tense, then slowly relax next to me. Da walked to the door and flung it open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. “I believe it is time for you to leave now, young man.”
Gabriel squeezed my hand, and we shared a quick, anguished glance before he left. I sat in the parlor, in shock.
I heard the front door close, a deep sadness enveloping me. Da’s footsteps approached the parlor again. “Do ye have any more surprises for me, Clarissa?” At my blank stare, his face softened slightly. “If there is gossip, this will help stem it,” Da said.
“This is about gossip?” I gasped, incredulous. “When have you ever cared about gossip?”
“Clarissa, do not think about going against me in this. You would regret it,” Da growled. He gave me a heated look before he stormed out of the parlor.
CHAPTER 37
August 9, 1900
My Darling Clarissa,
Your da forbade me from seeing you, but he did not mention my writing you. I refuse to be completely separated from you. You mean too much to me. I am sorrier than I can express that my aunt wreaked such havoc on our lives. I fear that she will always try to manipulate me and my life. My main regret is that it has now hurt you and harmed your relationship with your da.
I feel aimless as I wander around my workshop. All of my planned projects have disappeared along with my dreams for expansion, the patrons no longer desirous of my work. The only project I have is for your aunt Betsy, yet I find no pleasure in it because I had imagined making it with your guidance. I had envisioned you, sitting in your chair, reading to me in your quiet, strong voice, full
of passion as you delved into the story, enchanting me more each day.
I regret being unable to celebrate your birthday with you, my Clarissa. I hope you had a wonderful celebration. Never doubt how much you are cherished.
I miss you, darling Clarissa. I dream of a time when this separation has passed.
Your Gabriel
August 16, 1900
My Darling Clarissa,
I am more saddened than I can express at our continued separation. Last evening was glorious, and I had dreamt of taking you to a band concert in the park where they were playing Sousa’s songs. I remember how much you had enjoyed our first concert listening to his music and wanted to share it with you again. I imagined a night filled with listening to wonderful songs, holding your hand for a few moments and feeling perfect contentment because you were beside me.
New commissions remain elusive. There are numerous new projects within Boston that would be perfect for me and would provide me with months of work, and yet I am turned away once the owner knows my name. I have had hard times in the past, but I begin to worry these may be insurmountable.
Know that you are never far from my thoughts.
Your Gabriel
***
“WELL, MY GIRL, I must say, you are rather poor company today,” Sophie said as I sat listlessly in her parlor, the pale yellow of her walls failing to soothe me today. Sophie sat in her favorite buttercream-colored satin-upholstered lady’s chair, watching me with raised eyebrows. Her aquamarine eyes shone with concern. “Do you care to talk about it, or do you just want a place to sit and escape your wicked stepmother?”
“Gabriel and I are having trouble,” I said.
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips turned down in disapproval. “I thought that young man was made of sturdier material, and I am disappointed to be proven wrong.” She sniffed in disgust, glaring into her teacup.
“Oh, no, it’s not Gabriel,” I said.
“It’s you then?”
“No, no. I’m not explaining myself well.” I sighed, feeling a terrible weariness settle over me. “Let me explain.” I quickly detailed all that had happened, recalling the horrible parlor scene to Sophie. I finished by describing the last two letters I had received, each subsequent one more gloomy.
“Are you saying they are actively destroying that man’s reputation?” Sophie rasped, a formidable glower on her face. At my faint nod, she stood to pace, exuding her rage at the situation by her uncharacteristic jerky movements.
“Why would anyone want to ruin a man’s livelihood? For he won’t be able to work here again. Not in Boston and not in New England. Not if what you say she said gets around. She will have smeared him among the society folk of this town, and everyone would rather listen and believe the worst of each other than give anyone the benefit of the doubt.”
I tried to speak up, but she waved away my words.
“No, my girl, you know what I say is true. No one with any money, any reputation, would seek him out now,” she hissed. “And with all of that low-end, mass-produced furniture coming down the line, he needs wealthy benefactors to pay his bills.”
She collapsed heavily on her seat, lost in thought.
“He will…” I began but found I didn’t have the words to continue. Sophie’s certainty scared me. “How can you be sure?”
“I know these people,” Sophie said. “I’ve moved among them long enough. My only good fortune being that I was wealthy enough that I didn’t have to care what any of them thought.” She harrumphed, appearing thoroughly disgruntled.
“Oh, Sophie, I feel so at sea. I don’t know what is going to happen next. And yet I dread the future now, whereas I had been so hopeful,” I whispered as tears threatened.
“Chin up, my girl. Never dread what might come. For you are still the maker of your own destiny. No matter who tries to change things around on you, you decide what will happen,” she said, meeting my teary gaze with her determined aquamarine eyes.
“But what if what happens is something I don’t like?” I whispered, thinking about Gabriel’s last letter, filled with worry for him and our future.
“Then you act so that it is the future you do like, my girl.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I complained.
“Of course it isn’t. Discovering what you truly want, not what those around you are yammering on for you to want, is extremely difficult, but worth it, my girl. And only you have the ability to determine it.”
I sighed, sitting back against the settee, holding a throw pillow against my chest, lost in thought. I turned toward Sophie after a few moments, asking, “Sophie, does it bother you that we haven’t discussed suffragist topics during my last few visits?”
“This is not wasted time, Clarissa. You are a suffragette at heart, and you are learning about your own freedom as you struggle against the tyranny of some of those in your own family plus your own doubts. That is time well spent, to my way of thinking.”
I watched her with an arrested expression, humbled by her belief in me. “Is that how you see me?” I whispered.
“Of course, my girl,” she replied, her eyes bright. “I have no need to belabor the history of suffragism or our current inability to mount any real plan of action toward obtaining the vote. You are intelligent enough not to need me for that. No, it has been a joy to have a new friend. An intelligent, insightful friend who wants more out of life than sitting around doing needlepoint or gossiping about the latest hair style.”
I laughed, patting my hair, knowing I looked a mess. I had not really considered my appearance in days, not since Gabriel had been forced from my life.
“That’s the spirit,” Sophie said with a smile of encouragement. “Never let them take away your ability to find joy or to laugh. For it can always be worse, dearest, and the only defense is a good sense of humor and a determination to live the life you want.”
I shivered, a sense of foreboding filling me at Sophie’s words.
CHAPTER 38
I SPRAWLED MOROSELY ON THE SETTEE, an aching loneliness pervading me. Colin sat nearby, reading the paper again, although he refrained from reading aloud any headlines. I had already thrown one pillow at him to get him to stop reading to me, and I think he feared for the fate of his paper. Ironically now that the room was quiet, I missed listening to his random bits of news.
Da and Mrs. Smythe were out at a supper party, one that neither Colin nor I had been invited to, although we felt no regret at forgoing the Chichesters’ company. They were an affable couple, though as interesting as sawdust. I found it remarkable that neither of them had been blessed with the ability to converse. After one miserable dinner at their home—where I counted twenty-three decorative teacups on her sideboard and then catalogued them by color—I was relieved not to be invited back. Colin would argue that would be because, when I left, the number of decorative teacups had been reduced to twenty-one.
Patrick joined Colin and me tonight in the family parlor on a rare evening home from the office. I worried about his long hours, although he believed they would be beneficial for his career. I rose, moving toward the piano, attempting to practice a new piece. I had never been particularly talented with the piano but had decided recently I should try to develop some musical ability. My crowlike singing caused everyone in hearing distance to flee, and I had determined that the piano would be a good alternative. I tried to focus on the sheet music for the song “A Bird in a Gilded Cage” rather than my roiling thoughts. Unfortunately the song only made me think of Savannah.
I hit a wrong note, and Colin jerked his head up, wincing.
“Behold the caterwauling Clarissa, capable of causing considerable auditory damage. Marvelous! Marvelous!” Colin called out from across the room.
“I’m not singing,” I protested.
“It sure doesn’t sound like the piano,” Colin argued. “If you must play, can you at least play something you know?”
I looked toward Patrick for help but saw
his nod of agreement as he continued to read. I sighed, pulling out sheet music for “Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay.”
Colin snickered at my choice of song, and Patrick laughed, so I continued to play. I heard Colin humming the tune, envious of his musical abilities.
Colin sang,
I’m not too young, I’m not too old
Not too timid, not too bold
Just the kind you’d like to hold,
Just the kind for sport I’m told.
Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay.
Colin continued to hum, and I looked up from the music, playing the chorus, and laughed at Colin. “Colin! Those aren’t the words!”
Colin raised an eyebrow, humming “Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay” another few times, smiling and responding, “Those are the alternate words, Rissa. The ones that are popular. Not the innocent words you know,” he teased.
I continued to play, feeling happy for the first time in days. A few minutes later, Mary discreetly knocked at the parlor door.
“Excuse me, but there be a Mr. Gabriel McLeod here, an’ he’s wishin’ to speak wit’ Miss Sullivan.”
I saw Colin and Patrick exchange looks. Colin set down the paper, Patrick laid aside his novel, and both rose to meet Gabriel in the front hall. I sat, as though rooted to the spot, fingers frozen over the piano keys. Colin glanced at me with wry humor but then became serious as he left the parlor. I heard deep voices as they joined Gabriel, yet I could not understand what they were discussing.
I stood, pacing to the bow-fronted window, pushing aside the plush blue velvet curtains. I eventually sat in a Grecian rocking chair, attempting to appear calm, hoping the rocking motion would soothe my nerves.
A few moments later, the parlor door opened and Gabriel entered the room, with Colin a few steps behind. Gabriel held his hat in his hands, tracing the contours of the rim as he watched me with intense blue eyes.
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