Triumphant Love: Banished Saga, Book Nine

by Flightner, Ramona

  “Oh, I know plenty about letting down those I love,” he said in a soft voice, any levity missing from his tone and his expression. “It’s the one thing I excel at.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’ve lived a charmed life. You survived numerous financial disasters and always came out ahead.”

  His chuckle was filled with self-recrimination, and he crossed his hands over his belly. “No, Eleanor, that’s not how it was. Never trust a con man to tell you the truth.” He smiled when she gaped at him in shock. “For that is what I’ve been for over a decade. A very successful con artist.”

  “Are you swindling my uncle?” she whispered.

  “No, although, when I moved here, I had thought he’d be my next mark. But then, somehow, I developed a conscience. And I found I generally liked the man. Although there are times I wonder why, as my aunts can be quite challenging.” He grinned as Eleanor fought a giggle.

  “Will you tell me why you were insistent on marrying Araminta?” she whispered.

  He stared ahead at something for so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. “Yes, but first, you must hear the entire story. Don’t interrupt because I don’t know if I can start again if I’m stopped.” At her nod, he said, “I moved to New York City in 1905. I’ve always been good with numbers, and I quickly worked my way to the top of one of the most important stock exchange companies. I earned everyone’s trust because I was so quick with math, had an instinct for the trades, and still followed orders. I met a man there, a Henry Masterson.”

  He nodded as he saw recognition glint in her gaze. “He was more important than me, and he was working the accounts no one could afford to lose. Somehow he lost his most important client, and he’s never forgiven that man.”

  He rubbed at his head and took off his hat. He tossed it from hand to hand, his gaze distant, as though envisioning the busy New York streets filled with automobiles, carts, and streetcars, and a sea of humanity on the sidewalks. “That was right about the time everything changed in 1907. There was a panic, and I failed to follow orders. Thought I knew more than my boss—who’d been doing the job twenty years, not two. I cost the company I worked for millions of dollars, and I knew it would lead to its demise. I also knew it meant I would lose all credibility, and I’d never work again.”

  When he looked at her, he saw her questioning gaze, but she remained resolutely silent. “I ran into Henry when I was nearly hysterical and told him everything. He helped me, and I thought he was acting as a friend. I pinned my losses on another trader. Acted like a coward, so someone took my losses for me, while I commiserated with my colleagues as the loans came due. Then I snuck out of town to San Francisco, where I hoped I’d never see any of them ever again.” He nodded at her swift inhalation in surprise, the only emotion she had shown.

  “In San Francisco, I continued to work in the financial world, and I realized that I was rather good at running a con. It was a lucrative way to make money, and I’d already sold my soul to the Devil, so why not continue?” He shrugged. “You don’t need to know the details, but I became a wealthy man by earning investors’ trust and then fleecing them of their money. It was simpler than it sounds.” His jaw tightened. “And then I met her. Beverly Boniface. A beautiful woman from an Italian family.”

  He paused, his hat now mangled in his palms. “At first, she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Then she slowly paid me notice. I couldn’t believe my good fortune that a woman like her would notice me. Soon I was smitten.” He shook his head. “How could a con man not see he was being conned? I’d stolen money from her father a few years before, and this was his revenge.”

  At Eleanor’s shocked gasp, he nodded. “Yeah, she broke into my lockbox one night after a romantic interlude and stole everything. My money. The jewels. Everything.” He laughed. “I never trusted a bank’s safe, and that was my folly.”

  “It seems it was trusting her,” Eleanor murmured.

  He sighed as he stared into the darkening sky. He tossed his hat aside on the bench next to him and rolled his shoulders, as though attempting to forget the beautiful Beverly. “I know you’re smart enough to have figured out that wasn’t her true name. Her father had forced her to do it. When I ran into her a few months later at some society event, she was on the arm of one of the mayor’s underlings. We spoke, and I knew that her deception had been difficult for her, but she would never go against her father. That I would never be acceptable. And that I could not remain in San Francisco, watching her with another man.” He saw compassion and concern in his cousin’s gaze, and he squeezed her hand.

  Looking out at the park and the hills in the distance, he murmured, “I only returned to Missoula because I had nowhere else to go, and I was broke.”

  “And heartsore,” she murmured. After a long moment, she asked in a soft voice, “And Araminta?”

  “Araminta,” he breathed in a longing-filled voice. “Araminta. I believe I could have come to love her.” He shook his head, as though a fool for revealing such a truth. “Although the reasons I pursued her were far from altruistic.” He sighed. “My past caught up to me here too. I never thought Henry would be in Butte, Montana.” Bartholomew paused. “Although he reinvented himself with a new name. Samuel Sanders.”

  A dog barked in the distance, while a mother called out to her children to come inside and to ready for bedtime. “He remembered everything about my indiscretions in New York and had somehow learned about all of the ones in San Francisco. He’s a man who believes knowledge is power, and the power is then wielded to have others do your bidding. He’s determined to do everything in his power to make a McLeod—or anyone related to a McLeod—suffer.” Bartholomew shared an embarrassed look with his cousin. “He wanted me to pursue Araminta, so as to make Colin miserable. And to find any means possible to ruin Colin. To even … kill her if necessary.”

  At his cousin’s horrified gasp, he shrugged. “I agreed to everything except physically harming her. I liked her and came to care for her. I deluded myself into believing my affection was love. I was a fool not to recognize the depth of her devotion for that idiot blacksmith.” His jaw tightened with anger. “I never thought she’d humiliate me as she did.”

  Eleanor pelted him on his arm, and he raised his arm to protect himself in case she continued to hit him. “How dare you act as though you were the wronged party? You intentionally coerced her into almost marrying you when you knew she loved another?” At his nod, she hit him again. “How could you be so cruel?”

  “She didn’t marry me!” he yelled. “And now Henry is angry and looking for another way to harm the McLeods.”

  She paled. “Jeremy?”

  “No,” Bartholomew said. “Not him. Henry’s always hated the eldest the most. I think he’ll focus on him in some way. Thankfully I’ve been deemed a disappointment, and he doesn’t want much to do with me anymore. Thinks I’m no longer any good with pulling off cons.” He sighed. “And I’m not. I’m too busy worrying about the viability of Uncle’s bank.”

  “Why does Henry hate the McLeods so much?” she asked.

  He looked at her. “The account he lost in New York, the one he hoped would make his fortune and would set him up for life, belonged to Aidan McLeod. But Aidan became skittish just before the financial collapse of the Panic and pulled his account from that company, depriving Henry of large bonuses.”

  “Depriving him of the ability to fleece him?” she asked with a raised brow, using a term her cousin had previously used about robbing his clients.

  Bartholomew shrugged. “Most likely.” He smiled with grim satisfaction. “I learned the truth right before I fled town. One night, when Henry was drunk, he admitted that Aidan had learned Henry was the one managing his account, rather than Henry’s boss. The next day, Aidan closed his account. I knew nothing of the connection between Aidan and Henry then. However, Henry had already resented the McLeod boys when they were young. And he resented Aidan for forcing him to continue to work
rather than living a life of luxury. Then to realize they were related?” He shook his head. “That was more than Henry could bear.”

  She sat in contemplative silence, staring at the fading twilight over the hills and mountains.

  Bartholomew paused his long talk about his past and focused on her. “You’re being a fool, cousin.” At the shake of her head, he murmured, “You have a man who loves you beyond distraction, and you’re dithering about whether or not to marry him. I know you believe you’ve suffered some slight but imagine what your life will be like in one year or ten without him. Without his embraces. His kisses. His laughter and support. Is that the life you want?” He saw the answer in her gaze. “Be brave enough to believe you deserve to be happy.”

  He rose, leaving her deep in thought, as the evening light waned.

  * * *

  Jeremy poked his head into the rear sitting room and forced a smile as he saw Sophronia sitting in a comfortable chair. He fought the sensation that she had been awaiting his arrival. “Sophie,” he murmured.

  “No need to sound as though you’re visiting the undertaker,” she grumbled, as she lifted her cheek for his kiss. “Sit. Spend a little time with me.” Her aquamarine eyes flashed with a challenge as he froze at her command. “I know Breandan is well taken care of and that the house is so full of women that you won’t go hungry for weeks.”

  He sat in a chair across from her and tapped his fingers on his leg. “I trust you had a good journey.”

  She waved away his question. “A journey is a journey, and I must admit that I never envisioned our country as so large and so varied. I fear I’ve been provincial in my sense of superiority, as I sat in my Boston mansion. Life is spectacular here as well.” She pinned him with a severe stare. “What are your plans, young man?”

  He fidgeted under her stare and shook his head. “I … I hope the wedding will occur as planned.”

  She tapped her cane on the floor. “Hope will get you very little, Jeremy. You must act. You must plan. You must show her your steadfastness and your love.” She paused. “Unless you no longer wish to marry her.”

  His green eyes shone with dread. “No! I want Ellie. I dream of our marriage, but I fear it will be nothing but a mirage, always at the periphery of my desire, so as to torment me.”

  Sophie’s eyes shone as though through a shimmer of tears. “Write her that. Tell her how you feel.”

  He grunted with frustration and rose. “She should know, dammit. One slip of the tongue doesn’t negate all the times I’ve shown her my dedication, my steadfastness, my care.” He turned away, leaning against the large piano Lucas had left in the room. “I resent the need to continually prove myself.”

  Speaking in a soft voice, she murmured, “Is your wounded pride worth a lifetime of regret?”

  He turned to look at her and shook his head. When he turned to leave, as though he were about to march to his office to pen a letter, she motioned for him to remain in the room.

  “Come. There is something else I must do. Will you please shut the door?” After he did and sat across from her again, she turned to the gramophone on a nearby table. “This is a gift to you from Lucas. He titled it, ‘Memories of Savannah.’”

  She started the gramophone and settled in her chair again, her eagle-eyed gaze on Jeremy as the lilting music began. Throughout the long piece, she watched as Jeremy canted forward, his gaze distant, as though reliving memories with his wife. When the five sweet notes sounded at the end, tolling the hour of Savannah’s death, tears rolled down Jeremy’s cheeks.

  An impenetrable silence seemed to fill the room after the gramophone stopped playing. Sophie waited for Jeremy to speak, but he remained frozen in his chair with an unfocused gaze. “Jeremy?” she whispered.

  He smiled and nodded. “The most beautiful testimonial he could have created for her,” he murmured. “Savannah would have been so honored. And embarrassed that he had singled her out.” He swiped at his cheeks.

  “Does it weaken your resolution to marry?”

  “Weaken?” Jeremy asked with furrowed brows, as though having trouble understanding Sophie’s question. “No, it strengthens it.” He leaned forward, his gaze lit with a passionate intensity. “That third section, filled with hope and love and a joy for living? That was the time Savannah spent with me. Somehow I know that. And I feel like that when I’m with Ellie. I feel that hope and joy again, Sophie.”

  She reached out her gnarled hand and gripped his. “Good, my boy. Our Savannah would want you to be deliriously happy again. She was not miserly with her love.”

  Jeremy stood, kissing Sophie on her forehead. “Thank you, Sophie. For sharing Lucas’s music with me. For your advice. For caring about all of us. We’d be lost without you.” He squeezed her shoulder, leaving to write a letter.

  * * *

  My Beloved Eleanor,

  It has been too long since I have held you in my arms. Since I have kissed you. Since I have told you that I love you. For I do, Ellie.

  I know I made a mistake that seems unpardonable in your eyes. I only wish you could understand that I was nearly unconscious, joyously happy for the first time in over a year and a half. I’m sorry the wrong name slipped out, but I whispered Good night to her every night before falling asleep for fifteen years. It’s hard to break a habit of fifteen years in one night, Ellie.

  Come to my house with Colin and Araminta tomorrow night. Come see the surprise Zee has for my brothers and me. Stand by me as the proud, strong woman I know you are, while we mend this misunderstanding and allow our love to grow.

  Jeremy

  Chapter 23

  Zylphia set up an easel in the doorway connecting the living room and dining room in Jeremy’s house. Teddy helped her place her painting on it and then shroud it in a sheet. “I hope this is all right,” she whispered.

  Teddy kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulders. “It will be far better than all right, Zee. They will be stunned, and then they will fight over who has the right to keep it.” He gazed at her with adoration and love. “You have not painted much recently, but this shows you are honing your talent.”

  She stared at the easel, envisioning the painting underneath. “I hope you are correct.” She turned to face her family as they entered the living room, smiling as her mother and father took a seat near the easel. Gabriel had shooed his children to the back of the house to play, as they had little interest in art, and Richard’s children raced off to join them. Florence sat on a chair beside Delia, Agnes playing near her feet. Gabriel, Jeremy, and Richard stood huddled together along one wall, murmuring to each other. Zylphia noted Eleanor sidling into the room a few minutes after Colin and Araminta arrived, skulking along the rear wall away from Jeremy.

  “I know I’ve asked for your presence, and I will not keep you cooped up here too long. It’s too glorious an evening for that.” Zylphia smiled at her family as they quieted when she began to speak. “As you know, I spent the first years of my life separated from my father. I’ve always been interested in his youth, and he has indulged my curiosity. This year he came across trunks long held in storage that he had not looked through since before my birth. He gifted them to me, and I’ve enjoyed my treasure hunt.”

  She paused as her family watched her with expressions of fond affection, pride, and mild interest. “I found a photograph, and I decided to turn it into a painting. I’ll show you the photograph after you see what I’ve painted.” She looked at the brothers and then her father. “Will the McLeod men please come here?” She pointed to an area to the side of the painting, so that everyone else could still glimpse it but also so they would have the best view of it.

  When her father and cousins stood where she wanted them to, Zylphia took a deep breath and turned to the painting. She tugged on the sheet, and, after a moment, it slipped free to the floor. Rather than stare at the painting, she studied their reactions. Her father paled, his gaze roving over the rendering of him as a younger man, standing beside his br
other.

  This was a time before he knew the loss of everyone he had ever loved, and hope and promise shone in his gaze. Gabriel gasped at seeing himself as a young lanky boy, standing with pride beside his mother. Richard held a hand to his heart when he looked into the eyes of himself as a boy, his shoulders back and chin up, as he felt no fear to face the coming day with his father’s hands on his shoulders. Jeremy fell to his knees at the sight of himself standing in front of his mother, her hand resting on his head as though in benediction.

  A pregnant silence pervaded the room, and Zylphia held her breath. She cast a worried glance to Teddy, who stood at the rear of the living room. He smiled at her encouragingly and winked. After another long moment, she whispered, “Father?”

  “Oh, Zee.” He lurched forward and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, my darling daughter. This is a gift beyond measure.” He pressed his face into her neck, and she felt the moisture of his tears.

  Soon the McLeod men surrounded Zylphia, and she was enfolded in a group hug. She laughed and cried as the three brothers spoke of their parents in a reverent tone. “I saw the photograph and felt compelled to paint a portrait. My only wish was that I had painted one for each of you.”

  “Zee, it is enough to know that this exists,” Gabriel murmured, his gaze riveted on the painting. When she handed him the photograph, his thumb lovingly traced the image of his father and then his mother. “It’s exactly how I remember them. You’ve given us a treasure beyond measure. I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you.”

  She gave each brother a hug. “There is no need. We are McLeods. We do whatever we can for each other.” She squeezed Gabriel’s arm before slipping to stand in Teddy’s embrace, watching as the brothers continued to study the painting and the photograph.