“Where did Rowena go?” Teddy asked. His hands roved over Zee’s soft skin, eliciting shivers.
“She whispered she’d spend the night in a hotel.”
Teddy flushed. “That was thoughtful of her. We should have gone to the hotel, rather than consigning ourselves to this tiny bed.” He shifted as Zylphia giggled, curling into his embrace as he struggled to not fall off the single bed.
“How long can you stay?” She traced her hand over his chest.
“I must return tomorrow.” He kissed her frown away. “But I had to see you, ensure you were well.” After a few moments of silence he let out a big sigh. “What is it like, on the picket line?”
She lay with her head cushioned on his shoulder. “Exhilarating at first. To know that we are expressing our beliefs and demanding to be heard. … Oh, Teddy, it’s almost intoxicating. But then it became a test of endurance. The cold and wet and constant abuse.” Zylphia shuddered. “I had hoped to be done with picketing by now, but it’s important for those who arrive here to see that we remain enthusiastic about it. They must see some of what they call the ‘old guard’ continuing with it.”
“What happens when you are on the picket?” Teddy asked, arching down to kiss her.
“Sometimes we are attacked as we march there from the house. Other times, they wait to see what we’ll proclaim in our banners.” She sighed as she snuggled against him. “I love our banners. They’re beautiful, with gold silk fabric and purple lettering.”
“I’ve read about how you are treated,” Teddy whispered, unable to hide the concern from his voice.
“We’re yelled at, spit on, and we have things thrown at us, yes. The worst is when they grab the banners and tear them up. Sometimes they believe they can do the same to us and our clothes.” She sighed. “We never fight back. Miss Paul has instructed us that no matter what is said or done to our person, we must never fight back. We are to remain peaceful.”
“How can you when others are abusing you so terribly?” He stroked a hand down her arm as though to ensure she was well next to him.
“It goes against my nature.” Zylphia giggled. “A few times I wanted to punch and give as much as I received. However, I realize Miss Paul is correct. If we fought back, they’d have valid charges against us. As it is, they have to use weak charges that no one believes, such as obstructing others’ access to the sidewalk. Although none who attack us are ever charged with anything.”
He ran a soothing hand over her arm and shoulder. “What can Miss Paul hope to achieve with the picketing? All it seems to do is turn more against you and the cause.”
“At the moment, I fear you are correct. However, I know at some point, something will happen that will shift the tide of public sentiment, and it will be due to the picketing. For some reason, the pickets are central to Miss Paul’s plans.”
“Promise me that you’ll keep yourself safe,” Teddy whispered. He rolled Zylphia so he could meet her eyes. “Promise me, if you ever find yourself with child, you’ll protect yourself and our child.”
Zylphia smiled. “Of course I will.” She kissed him again, her easy affection assuaging any of his concerns.
The following morning, after Teddy had left to catch an early train back to Boston, Zylphia waited for Rowena. At the soft knock on the door, she opened it, smiling at her friend. “Why such a timid knock?” Zylphia asked as she pulled her hat off the peg.
“I didn’t want to disturb you and Teddy,” Rowena said with a teasing smile, dropping her overnight bag by the front door.
“He’s already left. Some business emergency in Boston called him away,” Zylphia said as she pinned on her hat.
“You seem happier since his visit.” They emerged onto the sidewalk to travel the short distance to Cameron House.
“Nothing is settled between us, but it helped to have him show his concern for my welfare. He refuses to change his stance on beginning a citizenship application.” Zylphia tilted her head to enjoy a few moments of sunshine before the oppressive heat returned as was forecast for the next few days.
“Did you argue with him before he left?” Rowena asked, earning a scowl from her friend.
“Yes. He asked me about the pickets last night. I thought he understood how important it is. I thought he was proud of my courage and determination.”
Rowena slowed as they walked through the small square. “What did he say?”
“This morning he said he’d only support me here if I promised to never picket again. That he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to me and he’d financed my ruin.”
“Oh, Zee,” Rowena breathed, gripping her friend’s arm.
“It’s not the money, Ro. I have plenty of money, and I know my father would support me.” She swiped at her cheek. “I feel betrayed by the man who I thought would always support me.” She took a deep breath. “He intended to visit Cameron House with me before he left, but I encouraged him to take an early train.”
“You didn’t want him to meet Mr. Hooper.”
Zylphia grimaced. “He already met him. Yesterday.”
Rowena arched an eyebrow at her. “Seeing as there isn’t anything between you and Mr. Hooper, and never has been, I don’t see why that is a concern.”
“Too many believe I’ve been indiscreet. Teddy met Octavius yesterday, and I had to swear I had been true to Teddy.” She shared a worried glance with her friend. “I think he believed me, but I didn’t want him to spend more time at the Cameron House and hear any more whispering.”
Rowena nodded.
Zylphia bit her lip and flushed. “Besides, I never told Teddy that I’d been arrested in July.”
Rowena gaped at her. “What?” At Zylphia’s shrug, she choked out an incredulous laugh. “You’re joking. You never told your husband that you’d been one of those women imprisoned after Bastille Day?”
“I feared it would make him more insistent about his demand I cease picketing. That I’d be consigned to return to Boston for insipid painting and balls.” She kicked at a small rock on the pavement before her. “I couldn’t go back, not now. Not when the movement needs us.”
“You lied to your husband, Zee.” When Zylphia protested, Rowena shook her head. “A lie of omission is still a lie. Besides, don’t you think he knows? The papers in Boston would have printed the names of those imprisoned.”
Zylphia shook her head, deflated that Teddy had not been following the cause more closely. “He would have said something if he’d known. His largest concern was that our banners would cause us to appear treasonous. He’s overly worried about the Espionage Act and that we are in blatant defiance of it.”
Rowena nodded. “Which they very well might be treasonous, and we most certainly are blatantly defiant.”
“The banners are not illegal, and we are speaking the truth.”
“It’s our version of the truth, and you know the president isn’t very keen on dissenters.” Rowena shook her head in wonder at her friend.
Zylphia waved her hand to change the subject and focused on her friend with a false cheer. “How are you, Ro? I realize how selfish I am, always focusing on myself and never thinking to ask about you.”
Rowena shrugged. “I’m fine. I no longer have any communication with many members of my family.” She looked around at those passing by and then gave Zylphia a pointed stare. “I understand that is how it must be now.” They turned up the walk to Cameron House. “Have you heard from Parthena lately?” Rowena asked.
“I receive sporadic letters from her. Seems she’s still molding herself into the wife Morgan envisions rather than being who she is and allowing him to adapt to her quirks.”
Rowena chuckled. “So they’re both still miserable?” At Zylphia’s nod, Rowena sighed. “Well, I hope something changes for them soon. They’ve been married two years. It’s long enough for them to determine what they want from their marriage.” She opened the door to Cameron House, and their personal concerns faded away as they focuse
d on the needs of the cause.
Chapter 14
Parthena stood in her parlor, staring at her piano. Her straw-blond hair was tied back in a loose knot and she wore a casual pink day dress. She leaned toward the piano, encouraging an inclination to play. Fingertips tracked down her back, and she shivered at the unexpected caress. “Why are you here, Morgan?”
He chuckled, his brown eyes shining with amusement. “Isn’t it acceptable for a husband to visit his wife in her parlor?” He stood to her side so he could study her face, nearly half a foot taller than she. “Why aren’t you serenading me with some brilliant composition you’ve just created?”
She huffed out an exasperated breath and pushed past him. Rather than sitting on the piano stool, she plopped onto a settee. He joined her, grasping her hand and stilling any further restless movements.
“What is bothering you, Hennie?” He frowned when she refused to meet his gaze. “I would hope by now you are used to my presence here.”
She fought against a smile but failed. “You know I am.”
He traced the hint of a smile on her cheek and the small indentation it formed on her chin. “I am quite used to our ritual of relaxing before dinner with a drink while I listen to you perform.” He frowned. “However, I only want you to play if you want to. Not because I enjoy it.”
She flushed. “I never dreamed you would admit to enjoying hearing me play the piano.”
He chucked her under the chin, the gentle pressure encouraging her to meet his gaze. “You know by now, two years after our marriage, that I do.” His gaze warmed as he saw his words pleased her. “Hennie, tell me what bothers you.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
He dropped his hand from her chin and clasped her elbow. “Are you ill?”
At the panic in his voice, her eyes sprang open. “No! Of course not.”
“There is no ‘of course not’ about it.” He sighed as he studied her mounting tension. “Whatever is bothering you, please don’t be afraid to tell me. I won’t be angry.”
Parthena shook her head. “You say that now, but I know you’ll misinterpret what I say.” She cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “I received a letter from Viv today. She’s still adapting to life in Montana. I fear she never will.”
Morgan sighed. “I’m sorry if my actions forced your sister to live away from you. I had hoped they’d feel comfortable returning here by now. No one concerns themselves with women who elope during a time of war. They’re too concerned with hating their neighbor.”
Parthena frowned at his cynicism. “I hope that’s not true.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “You read the papers like I do. Every day there’s something in them about Germans in America, and what could they be plotting? What more should we take away from them so they won’t harm us?” He shook his head in disgust. “I fear we’ll never learn as a people and will always search out strife.”
Parthena watched him with wide eyes at his prescient statement. She took a deep breath. “Yes, well, as we were talking about Viv and my letter from her.” At his subtle nod for her to continue talking, she said, “I think she hoped to return to Boston before now. But Lucas enjoys Montana. Relishes living near his sister and his extended family. And he seems to thrive playing low-class music in those bars. What a waste.” She leaned against Morgan and eased into his embrace when he slung an arm over her shoulder. “She’s pregnant,” she blurted out in a voice barely stronger than a whisper. “She’ll have a baby the end of January or beginning of February.”
Morgan froze, the tender caress on her upper arm transforming into a tight clasp. “What?”
“Genevieve is pregnant. With Lucas’s child.” She shuddered out a breath as though forestalling tears. She swiped at her cheeks as Morgan’s arm fell away, and he stood.
“I can see why you feared discussing this with me.” His voice had the warmth of a glacier.
She grabbed his hand, preventing him from storming out of the room. “Don’t do this. Don’t you dare turn into that icicle again.” She rose and grabbed his other hand to pull him toward her. However, his greater strength kept him at arm’s length.
“I thought you enjoyed the icicle,” he snapped. “Then you weren’t forced to feel. Or to choose.”
“Damn you,” she choked out. “You know I chose you. I chose you when I married you.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “I’ve never been unfaithful to you.”
“No, never—except in your thoughts, dreams and hopes for your future,” he snapped. He clamped his jaw shut when Parthena flinched. “I beg your pardon. That was uncalled for.”
“But that’s how you see me. How you believe I see our marriage.” Her voice cracked on the word marriage.
“How would I see it any differently? At best you tolerate my presence. You laugh at my jokes because you think that makes you a dutiful wife.” He cut off any protests with a sharp look. “You accompany me to business functions because you desire to appear faithful and you disdain gossip. You host events to further the fallacy we are a contented couple. And yet you refuse me into your bed. I never thought to have separate sleeping quarters from my wife, but now I do.”
“Morgan, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I can only imagine what that apology covers.” Morgan closed his eyes a moment and then took a deep breath. “Why are you so upset? I’d think you’d rejoice that your sister is to have a child. That at last you’ll be an aunt.”
She forced a smile. “Of course. How could I possibly be upset? I’ve always wanted a niece to dote on. To teach her all the lessons I failed to learn.” She released him and moved to the piano, finally sitting on the piano bench. She played a sweet, yearning composition and lost herself in her solitary performance. She looked up to share a smile with Morgan and to bask in his appreciation of her talent, her smile expressing her desired hope for conciliation and her yearning to heal whatever damage had been wrought that evening, only to find the room empty.
Morgan stood outside Parthena’s room the next morning. He rapped on her door and forced himself not to pound on it with his clenched fist as his anger mounted. “Parthena,” he whispered. When no response still came, he opened the door and peered inside. The curtains had been flung open, and he frowned as the bed was freshly made and unoccupied. After entering and softly closing the door behind him, his quick perusal of the room gave him no insight into his wife’s whereabouts.
On the verge of storming from the room and interrogating the staff, he noticed a letter on her bedside table. He picked it up and growled as he opened it.
Morgan,
It seems we are destined to be discontented with each other. I’m sorry to continually cause you pain. I need time to consider what I want. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll spend time with Zylphia Goff.
Parthena
Morgan bunched up her note in his fist and barreled down the hallway and stairs, bellowing for his butler. “Strand!” He held out the crumpled note but not so his butler could read it. “Do you know where Mrs. Wheeler has gone?”
“She left early this morning, sir. Said she had important business to attend to.”
“Business, my foot,” Morgan snarled as he spun, grabbing his coat and hat before racing down the steps of his home onto Commonwealth Avenue. He pushed past those taking a leisurely morning stroll, striding toward the Charles River and Beacon Street. He failed to notice the cloudless day lacking in humidity or the neatly trimmed gardens in front of the brick homes and glared at those who dared call out to him.
He burst into the tidy brownstone on Beacon Street, refusing to await the butler’s appearance. He shrugged from his coat as the butler grabbed at him, eluding his grasp, and pushed into the office off the main hall.
Teddy looked up from the papers he examined on his desk. “Wheeler,” he said, waving off the butler and servant who had rushed in to drag Morgan away. Teddy bit back a grin to see Morgan accept his hastily discarded coat from the
butler and don it once more. “What brings you by?”
“Did you know about this?” Morgan asked, slamming the crumpled note onto Teddy’s desk.
Teddy raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other man sitting to the right of his desk before reading the note.
Morgan scowled. “Of course, you’d be here.” He glowered at Aidan McLeod.
“Of course I’m here. He’s my son-in-law, and we are working on business matters. What’s got you so riled, Morgan?” Aidan asked. He remained seated, with an air of relaxed ennui about him.
“Parthena’s left him to join Zee,” Teddy murmured as he set the note down on his desk.
“Ah,” Aidan said. “That would rile any husband. Especially if such departure was precipitous.” Aidan waved at Morgan to sit, and Morgan collapsed into a chair next to him. “I presume she had a reason to leave.” At Morgan’s silence, he said, “Or she believes she does.”
Morgan raised a hand to his head, swiping away sweat after his race across the Back Bay. He extracted a handkerchief from his lapel pocket and rubbed his hand and then his face clean. “We argued again last night. I didn’t think it was any different from our previous arguments,” he admitted. “Although I say things when I’m angry …”
Aidan sighed, and Teddy settled back into his leather chair, causing it to squeak. “We all do,” Teddy said. “Although I think you have a tendency to say more than you’d ever mean to.” He watched Morgan with blatant curiosity. “Why are you here and not in DC?”
Morgan stared from one to the other and then laughed mirthlessly. “She’s in DC?” At Teddy’s nod, Morgan groaned and held his head in his hands. “I thought she wanted a few days respite from me. To run to your wife as a protest.”
Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7 Page 19