“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.
“She is my young cousin. I can’t allow her to be here. She needs to know she has family who wants her.”
“Do you think I am so naive that I haven’t heard of your infamous behavior? Do you honestly believe I would place a young, impressionable girl in my charge into the care of a woman who fails to honor her own marriage vows?”
“I would have thought you eager to find a home for one of your charges.” Savannah stiffened her shoulders and firmed her jaw, glaring at the older woman.
“Her welfare must be of my utmost concern. Thus, I refuse to allow her into your care. What would my patrons say if they knew I consorted with women the likes of you?”
“The likes of me?” Savannah rasped. “The kind that finds a way to survive the brutality of her marriage? I’d think you’d rejoice with me rather than disdain me.”
“You took vows, and it was your obligation to comply with them. I will not allow young Melinda to have her s
pirit warped by such an unnatural woman, even if you are her cousin.”
“I am not unnatural. I merely demand more from my life than the pain and humiliation my marriage wrought.”
“You desire my sympathy, Mrs. Montgomery?” She sneered as she looked Savannah up and down. “You’ll have none from me. I know your type of woman. Spoiled and pampered. Nothing is good enough for you. Not your mansions in the Back Bay. Not your stables full of carriages and basements full of servants. You’ll never find satisfaction in your life because you’ll never learn to be grateful for what you already have. Melinda Sullivan will never be given into your care. A spoiled, disgraced woman who fails to have the decency to feel shame at her situation.”
“You have finally spoken a truth. I will never feel shame for escaping my marriage.” Savannah rose, patting a trembling hand over her skirts as she glowered at the seated Mrs. Maidstone. “You may sit there in your righteous indignation now. I hope, if you are ever in need, as I was, you will find someone compassionate and understanding. Someone who will be the antithesis of who you are right now.” Savannah took two steps out of the door, preparing to storm down the long hallway.
“Did you ever find your baby, Mrs. Montgomery?”
Savannah spun to face her, gripping the back of the chair she had just vacated. “You knew where my baby was? All this time you’ve known.”
The matron rose, and sauntered toward Savannah, a taunting smile on her lips. “I know many things, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Savannah flushed red while the hand gripping the back of the chair whitened. “Tell me where she is. Tell me she is with good people.”
“Accept that your daughter is lost to you forever. There is no possibility of ever recovering her.” Mrs. Maidstone glanced down the hallway as the outer door slammed shut. “Ah, here’s Mr. Aires now for a meeting. I wish you a good day, Mrs. Montgomery, and thank you for a most illuminating visit.”
Savannah stumbled from the office and down the corridor in a dazed stupor. She barely had the sense of mind to open the door before walking into it. As she emerged onto the front stoop of the Home, she glanced around her. Night was falling with a brisk, cool wind blowing, scented by the recent rain. Shivering, she pulled her coat tighter around her as though to ward off the wind and the pain rendered by the matron’s words. Rather than turning for the trolley stop and Sophronia’s, she ventured farther into the maze of the North End.
***
“WHAT’S THE MATTER, SAVANNAH?” Richard asked as he studied her standing on his doorstep. “Why don’t you come in? It’s too late to be wandering the streets alone, and I know Florence would like to see you. It’s been days since your last visit, and the baby’s already grown.” He clasped her arm, squinting to study her further as he noted the subtle trembling of her arm.
“I’ll put the kettle on for tea. Our mum always said there was little a good cry and a cup of tea couldn’t cure.” He led Savannah into the back room where Jeremy was placing the finishing touches on dinner. Florence reclined on the dilapidated sofa, the baby asleep against her chest and a black cat purring its contentment next to her. Aidan sat at the scarred table, a mug of tea warming his hands.
“Savannah,” Jeremy murmured. He set down the plates and walked toward her. He reached out to push a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, stroking her neck before dropping his hand. “You look terrible.”
Savannah nodded. “I was just at the … at the …” She shook her head, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face, and uncontrollable sobs escaped.
“Come here, darling,” Jeremy said as he pulled her into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. He shared a long look with Richard and Florence before he caressed her back and rocked gently to and fro.
Aidan rose, taking over Jeremy’s duty and finished setting the table. He stirred the stew pot on the stove, sliced a loaf of bread and poured water into the glasses. Rather than retaking his seat, he remained standing in the kitchen, watching Jeremy and Savannah.
“Forgive me,” Savannah said with a hiccup, easing away from Jeremy.
“Savannah, you must have learned by now that holding it all in does no good. And we’re family,” Florence said. She nodded toward a chair as she continued to rock side to side. “Sit. You’ll have some supper that Jeremy made and tell us what this is all about.”
Savannah crumpled into the chair, curling into herself as she sat sideways. Jeremy crouched in front of her. “We can hold dinner so you can tell us what happened. I think you need to speak of it, and waiting is only going to make it worse.”
Savannah met his worried gaze, tears continuing to leak out. “Yes,” she whispered on a stuttering exhalation. She glanced up, looking toward Florence, Richard and Aidan. “I need your help too.”
Florence inched to the edge of the sofa and then heaved herself to a standing position. She waddled toward the chair Richard held out for her, smiling her thanks as he winked at her. She sat with a loud sigh, her hands cradling the baby’s bum and head. Richard sat in the chair next to her, nibbling on his lower lip as he studied Jeremy and Savannah. Aidan moved and sat across from them, his hands folded on top of the table.
“I visited my uncle Sean’s wife today. You’ve met Mrs. Sullivan.” At their murmurs of assent, she continued. “She’s bankrupt. She overspent her husband’s earnings two to one in the redecorating of her home. That’s why she was desperate for an influx of cash, to pay her creditors.”
“Her desperation was our gain,” Richard said with a sardonic smile. Aidan nodded.
Savannah rose, the chair making a scraping noise with her harsh movement. She paced in the area between the sparsely furnished living room and the dining room table. “She’s no way to pay her bills. Has no friends who will come to her aid. Not even your aunt.”
“That’s not surprising. I imagine Aunt had her reasons for friendship with her, ones we’ll never fully understand. She’ll feel no compunction at abandoning her now that Mrs. Sullivan is of no use to her.” Jeremy shared a rueful glance with Richard.
“And now she’s decided she must forego any unnecessary expenses.”
“Seems sensible,” Florence said. She patted her son, nuzzling his downy head as she watched Savannah with mild curiosity.
“She’s brought her daughter to the Home. Left her there as though she were an orphan. Unwanted and unloved.” Savannah met Florence’s stricken gaze, watching as all color leached from Florence’s face.
“Good Lord, she couldn’t have,” Florence whispered. Richard reached for her hand, squeezing it in support.
“She did.”
“Then you must go there, demand they give you Melinda. For she needs to know she’s wanted. There’s nothing worse than thinking you’re not wanted,” Florence said as her voice broke.
Savannah nodded, swallowing visibly before she took a deep breath. “I did. And was told that Melinda would never be given into my care. That a woman such as me would only warp her mind and spirit.”
“That witch!” Florence shrieked, waking the baby. A lusty wail rose, and Florence calmed only to soothe her son. After a moment, when little Ian had quieted, she whispered, “Melinda knows who you are. Mrs. Maidstone knows you have the means to care for her. To love her. You’re her family.”
“Yes, but what would the patrons think if she consorted with one such as me?” Savannah asked, dull pain in her eyes.
“That she has some sense!” Florence hissed. She rocked little Ian as he fretted.
“Florence, love, hush,” Richard soothed. He reached for Ian and settled him against his chest.
“Don’t tell me to hush, Richard,” she snapped as she rose. She moved toward the kitchen and stirred the stew pot, banging the wooden spoon with such force it cracked.
“There’s more you aren’t telling us, Savannah. Being denied your cousin would make you as mad as Flo. But something happened at the Home to bring you despair.” Jeremy leaned forward and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers
with her and tugging her toward him. He coaxed her into leaning against him.
“She knows where my baby is. My baby lived.”
“Oh, my God,” Richard said as Florence moaned and fell into her chair.
“That woman lied, all those months ago. Telling me no baby had come to the Home. Sending me on a wild chase to the other orphanages around Boston. Having Sophronia solicit the aid of her friends. And the whole time, she knew where my baby was.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Florence whispered. “That’s not the woman I remember.” They all jerked as Aidan rose and turned to look out the window facing the empty lot. Nothing was visible on this dark January night, and the window acted as though a mirror, reflecting his troubled visage.
“Uncle?” Richard asked. Aidan shook his head and appeared lost in thought as he continued to stare out the window.
Savannah swiped at some of her tears, meeting Florence’s worried stare and answering her question. “I don’t know. If I had to guess, it’s that Jonas paid her handsomely.”
“And his money was worth more than your agony?” Jeremy rasped, now standing. “I’ve a mind to go there and …”
“Jer,” Richard said, a warning note in his voice. “No.” He glared at Jeremy until he’d settled back into his chair.
Aidan turned, resting a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder for a moment, his touch aiding in easing some of Jeremy’s tension. Aidan pulled a chair away from the table, sitting with his legs crossed. “This Mrs. Maidstone, what is she like?” Aidan asked.
“She’s a widow. She has been since I was a girl. I always thought she was kind and concerned about us,” Florence said. “She began working there shortly before I left to work with Mrs. Kruger. I liked her. She was young and seemed to truly care about us.”
Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 Page 17