Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (14 page)

“My mother read me that story. And I have always abhorred those who mock others,” Mrs. Sullivan hissed.

“Ah, yes, such a terrible thing to mock someone. Much better to undermine and destroy their lives by stealth. I’m sure Mr. McLeod much prefers your method,” Sophronia said with a chill in her voice.

“We are not here to discuss Clarissa and her unfortunate alliance with that worthless laborer. She has only brought scandal and ridicule onto this family. We refuse to allow you to do the same to Savannah,” Clarissa’s stepmother snapped.

“We demand that you allow Savannah to leave with us. We have spoken with Jonas, and he is very understanding of her nerves after the loss of her child. He is quite happy to accept her home after this small hiccup,” Savannah’s mother, Matilda Russell, said.

“Is this your definition of maternal love then, Mrs. Russell? Send her back to the lion’s den? Or do you prefer the medieval entertainment of bearbaiting? For I can assure you, either description is applicable to what it would be like if Savannah were to return to that house.”

“How dare you—”

“How dare I actually open my eyes and see that that young woman has been tormented and beaten down to the point where she has trouble seeing her own worth? How dare I desire her to have a life filled with happiness rather than fear and trepidation? How dare I dream that her family loved her more than any aspirations for improved social standing? Yes, what a cruel woman I must be.”

“You have no right—” Mrs. Sullivan sputtered.

“I have every right. I am a woman of means, with quite a bit more respectability and clout than either of you could ever imagine. I have accepted into my home a young woman who has been treated cruelly by her husband. She will be welcomed here for as long as she wishes to stay.”

“What if she desires to leave?” Matilda asked.

“We can ask her,” Sophronia said. “Savannah, please join us.”

Savannah gasped but then squared her shoulders and entered the parlor. “Hello, Mother. Mrs. Sullivan.”

“It seems the circus came to us,” Sophronia murmured with a wry gleam in her eyes. “Please join us, dear. I’m sure you’ve found the conversation enlightening.”

“Savannah, quit your petulant outburst and return home where you belong with your husband,” her mother ordered. She was flushed and glaring at both Savannah and Sophronia.

“Do you—” Savannah began but was interrupted.

“It’s not as though you could possibly want to remain here. With this woman. She is so uncouth,” Mrs. Sullivan snapped.

“I wish you would—” Savannah said.

“And why you would come here rather than turn to us, Savannah? It shall not be borne! What will the grandparents say when they hear of it?” her mother wailed.

“Silence, the pair of you. You’re worse than a pair of jackals,” Sophronia demanded. She turned toward Savannah and raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to explain to your loving family how you fared at that home on Marlborough Street?”

Savannah watched them, a dull pain in her eyes. “You knew what he was and yet you still encouraged me to marry him.” She glared at her mother. “How could you?”

“The social standing—”

“Yes, of course. Always the social standing. The money. The prestige you would win in the grandparents’ eyes if I were to marry one such as him. A shopkeeper’s daughter marrying such a man!” Savannah choked back a sob. “I can’t believe I allowed myself to be blinded into agreeing with you. Into believing any of that mattered.”

“Your dowry—”

“Yes, my dowry. The only reason why a man such as him would ever deign to marry a woman such as me, and yet I wasn’t even allowed to know that I was being auctioned off like a prized horse. How dare you criticize Clarissa for wanting more from life than meeting societal expectations. Why didn’t you want more for me?” Savannah sobbed. “Why weren’t kindness, respect and love as important to you in that invisible tally of yours, Mother, as Jonas’s perceived respectability?”

“I’m sure Jonas has more kindness than you give him credit for,” Matilda said stonily.

“Do you? Did you believe that when he wrote solicitous letters telling you that I was ill again? Did you never wonder that all my illnesses were caused by his cruelty?”

“I will not sit and listen to any more of this,” Matilda said as she picked up her purse.

“Does it not bother you that he beat me? That he took away my baby and gave her to the care of strangers, simply because she was a girl?” At her mother’s stony silence, Savannah whispered, “How can you be my mother?”

“You will come to understand that some sacrifices are required in this life, Savannah. I hope you will soon come to your senses and return home to your husband.”

“I will never return to him. I am seeking a divorce.”

“What?” Mrs. Sullivan and Matilda gasped at the same time, Matilda collapsing into her chair as she had half risen to leave.

“Oh, Savannah, don’t do this to the family. Don’t do this to your father’s business. Have you no decency?” her mother asked.

“Why can you never worry for me, Mother?” Savannah whispered in a tear-choked voice.

“Because this isn’t just about you, you selfish girl!” Matilda snapped. “What did we ever do to deserve two women in our family such as you and Clarissa?” She shared a long-suffering glance with Mrs. Sullivan.

“I believe it is time for you to leave,” Sophronia said. “I would ask you to refrain from visiting my home again. I pride myself on the quality of my company, and you do not meet my standards.”

“You would stand by her as she embarks on this folly?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.

“Of course. It is what women do for each other. Or so they should,” Sophronia said with a note of reproach in her voice. Matilda and Mrs. Sullivan stalked out of the room, and Sophronia sat, watching the trembling Savannah. “You did well.”

“She never really cared about me, did she?” Savannah asked in a daze. “I never mattered.”

“I imagine something happened to your mother to alter how she sees the world. Something caused her to esteem social respectability more than anything else.”

“What am I to do?”

“Continue as you are. You know you can’t return to Jonas and that life, Savannah.” Sophronia gripped her hand until Savannah met her eyes. “You know that.” Savannah finally nodded. “Good.”

“Yes, he would kill me if I returned. I know that deep inside. And, if he didn’t, I would want to die.” Savannah let out a stuttering sigh. “I want more from life than that, Sophie.”

“Good. Now you must determine what it is you do want.”

“I want to find my baby,” she said in a whisper, barely giving voice to her words.

“What was that, dear?” Sophie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Savannah cleared her voice and spoke in a firm voice. “I want to find my baby.”

Sophie smiled triumphantly. “Very good. You must continue to voice your desires, Savannah. As for finding your daughter, I have begun to make inquiries on your behalf. However, you should do whatever you deem necessary to find her.”

“Thank you for your help, Sophie.”

Sophie nodded. “I want to see you flourish, my dear.”

***

“HELLO, FLORENCE,” Savannah said after Florence inched open the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day.”

“Nonsense. I’m baking bread, and it’s a tedious process. You can keep me company.” She smiled as she led Savannah toward the back room. The smell of yeast and flour permeated the air, and the dining room table, turned into a workspace, was covered in flour. The far end of the table had mounds covered by a cloth.

“Could I help you?” Savannah asked, as she took off her hat and gloves. “I used to love to bake.”

“Really? I would have thought you’d always have a cook.”

“We did. She was a lovely woman from Scotland, Mrs. McDuffie. She made the best breads. I loved spending time with her. Thought my mother would be delighted that I was learning to cook.”

“I gather she wasn’t.” Florence handed Savannah the bowl with the other half of the dough to be kneaded. Savannah covered her hands in flour and leaned into the dough.

“No, she wasn’t. When I told her at dinner one evening that I had made the bread we were eating, I thought my mother would faint. I was sent from the table with no dinner and told I was never to enter the kitchen again, unless requesting food.”

“What did your father say?”

“He was proud of me. But, as in most things, he allowed my mother to determine what was proper for my upbringing.”

“Did you never want to cook again?”

“I missed the stories Mrs. McDuffie told. Wild stories about growing up in Scotland among a large family. She only moved to Boston because she was number three of sixteen, and she had hoped she’d be able to earn some money to send home.

“And I missed the cooking. Even when I was young, my mother had a strict idea of what I was to do and not do. She believed there were certain activities that were beneath me, and cooking was one of them.”

“Does Mrs. McDuffie still cook your favorite meals when you visit your parents?”

“Oh, no. She … left my parents’ employ a few weeks after I was barred from the kitchen.”

“That’s horrible,” Florence whispered.

“Thankfully she began to cook for a prominent businessman, a bachelor. And now she has a cook while she entertains in his drawing room.”

Florence watched her with serious eyes. “You learned your lesson well, though, didn’t you? Do what your mother wants or the consequences will affect more than just you.”

“Yes, well, you can see where that got me.” She swiped at her cheek, smearing it with flour.

“Married to a maniac with a penchant for brutality,” Florence said with a shake of her head.

“She still wants me to return to him. To uphold the family’s honor by sacrificing myself.” She punched the bread dough and leaned in to knead it with all her pent-up fury.

Florence stopped kneading for a moment to stare at Savannah. “But you won’t. Tell me you will never return to that man.”

“No, I won’t. I can’t. No matter how much my mother says it is hurting the family and the business, I can’t.”

“They’re adults. They can manage without having you harmed in the process,” Florence said as she slapped the dough with renewed vigor. She blew a huff of air, blowing a strand of curly black hair out of her eyes. “If I knead this anymore, we won’t be able to chew it.” She turned, found two clean cloths, handed one to Savannah, and they covered their loaves to rise.

“How is Mr. McLeod?” Savannah asked after she had settled on the couch with a glass of water.

“If you mean Jeremy, he’s better each day. His business continues to grow, although I know he wishes Gabriel were here to help him. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have Gabriel and Clarissa home?” Florence smiled wistfully.

“I doubt Rissa would want to come back. From what I understand, she likes her life out there. Not nearly as restrictive as life here.”

“Yes, and it seems Gabriel has fallen in love with the outdoors. It does seem hard to imagine him enjoying horseback riding.”

Savannah giggled at the thought. “Hmm … although I bet he’s a handsome sight.”

She and Florence shared a laugh before Savannah sobered. “Do you think you and Mr. McLeod would be able to help me find my little girl? I can’t imagine traveling to the orphanages alone.”

“I’ll help you in any way I can, Savannah. I’m sure Jeremy feels the same, although he might not have as much freedom with the new commissions he’s receiving.”

“Thank you, Florence. You don’t know what it means to have your friendship.”

“Is it really true that no one in your family believes that Jonas took your baby?”

“My aunt Betsy does. I’ve never spoken with my father or brother about it. I used to worry they’d believe as my mother, but I’ve begun to wonder if that’s fair to them. I plan on visiting my father tomorrow at the store, and I will hopefully see Lucas too.” She sighed. “I dread going there. My mother is irate and would bar me from setting foot in the store if possible. I must hope she’s absent during my visit.”

***

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Savannah opened the door to her parents’ fine linen store, Russell’s, and maneuvered her way around milling patrons. She smiled at Lucas who stood behind the counter and walked toward the back area to enter her father’s office, a small rectangular room behind the main storefront. Her father sat at his desk in a comfortable swivel chair, head bowed over piles of papers. He appeared busy, adding up the books and reviewing receipts. He glanced up, frowning for a moment as he saw someone in the doorway, but his expression lightened as he beheld Savannah.

Upon seeing her, he stood, moved from behind the desk and enfolded her in his strong arms. “Ah, my Savannah,” he murmured as he held her. After a few minutes, he released her, cupping her face for a moment as he studied her closely. She settled in a chair in front of his desk while he shut the door and then returned to his seat.

“I’m happy to see you looking healthy,” he said as he watched her, frowning as she wiped away tears. “It’s been two nearly months since you left Jonas’s home in mid-June. Are you sure you are well?”