Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 (22 page)

“Articles? What articles?” Aidan asked.

Savannah flushed before speaking. “I’ve spoken to a reporter about how I suffered while living with Jonas.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows for a moment before furrowing them in confusion. “Who thought that would be a good idea?”

“I did, Mr. McLeod,” Sophie said. “Rather than have the reporters learn of the affair and exploit it for their own profit, while also bantering about misinformation, I advised Savannah to approach them and tell her story, in serial format. While, of course, selling it to the highest bidder.”

“What good comes from such notoriety?” Aidan asked, perplexed.

“A bit of financial freedom,” Savannah said. “And, like Sophie said, the ability to tell my story truthfully.”

“Why not seek a divorce if you are going to do all this?” Aidan asked.

“Because with a divorce every mistreatment would need to be detailed. This way, I can choose what I wish to reveal,” Savannah said. “I can keep some of my dignity.”

“You’ll always have that, Sav,” Jeremy said, a fierce pride shining from his eyes. He met his uncle’s worried gaze, entreating him silently for support.

“I wish you well with this, Savannah. I hope my worries are unfounded.” He raised his glass of wine to Savannah in a silent toast, and the conversation moved on to the imminent arrival of Florence and Richard’s baby.

CHAPTER 18

RAIN LASHED THE WINDOWS
, and a strong wind howled, causing the curtains on either side of the windows to billow slightly into the room with each strong gust of wind. Savannah sat at the desk facing the windows, watching the pattern the rain created as though mesmerized. A pencil and a stack of papers, both long forgotten, lay in front of her. She bolted at the soft knock on the door and the intruding footsteps into the back parlor.

“I see I’m interrupting,” Sophronia said as she moved toward the chaise longue and sat with a grateful sigh. She settled her wine-colored worsted wool skirt at her ankles.

“You aren’t interrupting at all. I’m attempting to put together a list of things I’ll need to bring with me when I move with Jeremy to our apartment. We are hopeful to move in March.”

“Seems like a lot of dillydallying when you’re determined on your course of action. I’d think you’d move in sooner with him.”

“I want to wait until the first articles are released before undertaking any further changes.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, Savannah, it’s don’t dawdle when action is needed.”

A blast of wind struck the windows, and Sophronia pulled her thick taupe-colored shawl around her shoulders. She then glared at the window as cold air leaked in.

“Perhaps you should sit by the fire,” Savannah said with a half smile.

“I’m settled now, and I’m of an age that energy should be conserved. I have important news to impart, and I fear I will change your relaxing plans for the day.”

Savannah moved from the hard-backed oak chair in front of the desk to a tufted wingback chair near the roaring fire. Lamps lit throughout the room lent an inviting glow to the sitting room.

“Have you heard the news about Clarissa’s stepmother, Mrs. Sullivan?” Sophronia asked, extracting a letter from a hidden pocket in the side of her skirt.

“No,” Savannah said. “I’ve been focused on the home I’m moving into with Jeremy and the articles that will soon be released.” She waved toward the pile of papers on the desk. “I haven’t thought much about her since Clarissa left. Why?”

“It seems Mrs. Sullivan’s nonsense has come back to haunt her.”

“What do you mean?” Savannah leaned forward in an attempt to grasp the letter, but Sophie held it out of her reach.

“Do you know she outspent her husband’s decent earnings two to one in the extravagant refurbishing of that home? I knew she had bought exorbitant furnishings, but I had never imagined she had gone that far.”

“She’s always had delusions of grandeur, but I can’t imagine she would have spent to the point of impoverishment. Uncle Sean made a handsome living.”

“Well, gold leaf wallpaper does tend to beggar a person. Nonsensical woman. Wasting her money on such frivolities.”

“What will she do?” Savannah asked.

“Her good friend”—Sophronia
harrumphed
her opinion—“Mrs. Masterson won’t accept her calls. I’ve heard Mrs. Sullivan’s about run through every penny she received from Mr. McLeod for the forge.”

Savannah nodded. “Thus her haste to sell articles from the home. Clarissa told me things were missing.”

“Exactly. She needed a large influx of cash for her creditors. However, I’ve heard even that wasn’t enough.”

“What do you mean? What else can she do?”

“Besides learning to live within her means?” Sophie asked with an acerbic smile. “I suppose she could always have found another man to marry, and maybe she had hoped to with Mr. Wright, but, seeing as he is now jailed in Montana awaiting trial, that plan won’t come to fruition. In today’s post, I received a letter from Clarissa’s maid, who was let go recently, asking if I had any work for her or knew of anyone. Of course she was dismissed without a reference, due to her attachment to Clarissa.”

“Horrible woman.”

Sophie grunted her approval. “I’ll find something for the girl. At any rate, she wrote about the goings-on in the house, especially as regarding Melinda.”

Savannah paled, gripping the wooden armrests of her chair as she watched Sophronia with dawning horror.

“It appears your Mrs. Sullivan is considering placing her daughter into the Home.”

“She can’t. She wouldn’t.” Savannah gripped the mahogany armrests with such vigor that her fingers whitened. She shared a look of despair with Sophie.

“Your cousin Melinda’s abandonment is imminent, I’m afraid.”

***

SAVANNAH SHIVERED as she sat on one of the two remaining chairs in the large formal parlor. The walls bare of any ornamentation looked as though dappled by the sun’s rays due to the varying highlights on the golden wallpaper, a reminder of the hangings that used to be displayed. Her shoes scuffed the bare floors as she moved her feet underneath her skirts, the Turkish carpet nowhere in sight. Savannah stared longingly at the empty fireplace, imagining warming herself in front of a roaring fire for a moment.

“Savannah, I am surprised you would consider it appropriate to call on me,” Mrs. Sullivan said, sniveling into a black lace handkerchief.

“I’m sorry I was unable to offer comfort after my uncle’s death, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“You would understand all there is to know about difficult circumstances, wouldn’t you?” She fisted the piece of lace in her hand, tapping her closed hand against the arm of her chair. “How could Sean do this to me? He knew how important the refurbishing of this home was to me. He knew I expected to live with an expectation of a better future. How could he have died? It’s so selfish!” She glowered as she glanced around the empty room.

“Mrs. Sullivan, I doubt Uncle Sean planned his death. He died while at work, hammering a heavy piece of metal at the smithy.”

“I told him, again and again I told him, to have the younger men do the heavy work. Would he listen to me? No. He always knew better. He never took my advice. Always tried to thwart me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“I know it is! He was late to take my advice regarding Clarissa and look what scandalous behavior she wrought, running off to Montana, unmarried, to reunite with that worthless carpenter. If Sean had listened to me, she would have married that Mr. Wright months before she would have considered leaving Boston.”

“Mrs. Sullivan—”

“Did he take my advice when it came to this home? To the number of staff we needed? To the proper running of his smithy? No, no, no!” She slammed her fisted hand again onto her chair’s armrest. “If he had taken my advice, I wouldn’t be in such an impoverished state.”

“Of course not. You would have had your money from Cameron for helping to coerce Clarissa into marrying him.” Savannah eyed her, unable to hide her scorn. “After all, your stepmotherly love and concern was limitless.”

“Ah, so the kitten has claws.” Mrs. Sullivan glared at Savannah. “You wretched girl. You’re just like her, shameless. Although you seem improved from the last time I saw you.” Mrs. Sullivan looked Savannah up and down, noting the healthy color on Savannah’s cheeks.

“I am much improved. Thank you for your concern.”

“I’ve never had much concern for you since your impetuous actions brought scorn upon your poor mother’s head. Do you know what shame she has had to endure, listening to the gossip and ridicule from those she once called friends? Do you know how your actions have harmed your grandparents?” She sniffed in disdain. “If you had any regard for anyone other than yourself, you would never have acted as you did.”

“I’m no longer interested in all that nonsense, Mrs. Sullivan. I’ve discovered what is truly important.”

“And what would that be? Acting like a shameless hussy? Gallivanting about in a workman’s warehouse unchaperoned? Consorting with the likes of Mrs. Chickering?”

“My actions are none of your concern. I hope someday you will discover that all those pretenses toward good society are an illusion. That love, true honor and loyalty are more important than any perceived social standing.”

“I thought naïveté was Clarissa’s forte. Now I see it’s a familial trait.”

“At least I have friends who will stand beside me through thick and thin, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Why are you here, Savannah? You’ve never shown me any of the regard that was my due in the past.”

“I heard you were considering bringing Melinda to the Home. I would like to offer to care for her instead.”

“As though I would consider you an acceptable alternative to my fine mothering abilities. You who were incapable of having a child and then who takes up with the firebrand suffragette who fails to know the limits of propriety?” She gasped for a moment. “You think I would want my daughter living with the likes of you?”

“I’d think you’d rather have her living in a fine home on Beacon Street on Beacon Hill, well-clothed and well-fed, rather than living as an abandoned child in a home for undesired children.”

“How dare you speak to me about my daughter in such a way? You have no right.”

“I have every right. She is my cousin. She deserves to be raised in a place knowing she is wanted and loved. I may no longer be with my husband, but I can offer her a good home.”

“I could not countenance her living with you. The thought of my beautiful Melinda, who already knows not to cry or act out in any way, living with you, who has no sense of common decency? It’s too much to be borne.”

“Where is Melinda?” Savannah demanded. “Is she still here?”

“Of course not. I couldn’t have her eating away at my meager savings. I couldn’t have her expecting I’d squander any more on a Christmas present for her. I brought her to the Home over a month ago.”

“How could you? And not inform anyone in the family?”

“I am her mother, and it is my prerogative to do as I choose with regard to her welfare. As I am unable to care for her, I found a place that would.”

“Unwilling, you mean. You continue to live here, with a maid to open your door, and yet you’d consign your daughter to an orphanage?”

“You will find, Savannah, that motherhood is not for all women. I should never have had a child. Such messy, noisy creatures. My home is much more peaceful now she is away.”

“Away. Banished to an orphanage.” Savannah rose. “I hope you enjoy your remaining days in your home, Mrs. Sullivan.” She smiled as her barb struck. “For, if the rumors are to be believed, you’ll soon be on the streets, and this”—she waved a hand around the empty room—“will soon be just a distant memory. As will your liaison with my family.”

***

SAVANNAH ENTERED the New England Home for Little Wanderers, the heavy oak door squeaking as it swung shut behind her. A lemony antiseptic scent pervaded the hallway, the wood floors shining as she approached the head matron, Mrs. Maidstone’s, office. Savannah paused at the open door, tapping on it to gain the matron’s attention.

Her head jerked up from a pile of papers on her otherwise spotless desk. “Ah, Mrs. Montgomery. You’ve returned to visit us again.”

“Yes, I was hoping to discuss with you a situation that I only just learned about. If I may have a seat?”

“For a few minutes only. I have many meetings today, and I must prepare.”

“Of course,” Savannah said as she sat with her back straight and feet curled under her seat. She folded her skirts around her and laced her fingers together, resting her hands on her lap.

After a moment, Mrs. Maidstone spoke in an impatient tone. “This matter, Mrs. Montgomery?”

“I have learned that my cousin, Melinda Sullivan, has come into your care. I would like to bring her home with me and care for her.”

“My dear Mrs. Montgomery, I’m afraid I don’t see how this pertains to you.” Mrs. Maidstone held herself with rigid control, her starched coal-gray dress without a visible crease. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a severe, unattractive bun while her almond-shaped hazel eyes were devoid of any warmth.