“Mr. Montgomery, you would never act in such a way,” Matilda stammered. She paled as Jonas waved the gun around.
“I warned you that he was such a man, Matilda, but you wouldn’t listen,” Martin growled. He continued to focus all his attention on Jonas. “You believe you can march in here, on my daughter’s birthday, and ruin our celebration? You are mistaken.” He moved toward Jonas, placing himself between Jonas and Savannah, causing Jonas to back up a few steps. “Leave, now, before I call the police and file charges against you.”
“Hey, Sav. Sorry I’m—” Colin stopped abruptly, his glance moving from Jonas to his uncle to Savannah, and then to Lucas on the settee, partially obscured by Martin. “Is that a gun?” He paled, putting up his hands as Jonas veered the gun toward him for a moment. “Whoa. Calm down, Jonas.”
“Calm down. Calm down? After months of being played a fool by my worthless wife, you’re telling me that I must continue to suffer due to her perfidy? You are to come home now, madam!” he yelled, swinging to face her again, pointing his gun in her direction. Her father moved to block her completely from Jonas’s view.
“Do you have any idea what it’s been like, living with such an infamous wife? Reading the sickening lies in the paper of my purported abuse? You knew how you were to behave, and any aberration warranted punishment.” In his agitation he was nearly panting. He swung the gun in a constant arc from Matilda to Colin, keeping all of them within his sight. “You should have known your role rather than run away to an unnatural woman who doesn’t know her place.
“And then, to read that you are replacing me with a man not even worthy to clean your boots? How could a woman I chose as my wife deign to allow such a man near her?” He shook with fury as he spoke of Jeremy. “I repeat, you are to cease your rebellion and return to me this instant!” In his agitation, he pulled the trigger, shooting Martin. Martin gasped, grabbing at his chest as he crumpled to the floor, a stream of blood seeping onto the carpet.
“Father!” Savannah screamed, unaware in her concern for her father that she was now fully exposed to Jonas. Lucas jumped up, pushing Savannah down onto the floor, covering her as Colin attempted to wrestle the gun from Jonas.
“Let go, you fool!” Colin growled. “You’ve already shot an innocent man. Don’t make it worse than it is.” He and Jonas were in a sort of primitive dance, continuously circling, bending, and bowing as one of them tried to obtain the upper hand.
“Father,” Savannah whimpered, reaching a hand out to him. She grabbed his arm in an attempt to impart some sort of comfort.
“Stay down,” Lucas grunted, grabbing her arm and forcing her to curl in on herself. He pushed her backward, in a futile attempt to push her under the settee.
Another shot rang out, and plaster fell on top of them from the ceiling. Colin shook his head to clear his eyes and attempted to keep Jonas’s arm pointed upward as they continued to scrapple. However, Jonas kicked Colin in his thigh, and he momentarily lost the battle to keep Jonas’s arm raised. The gun lowered, and another shot rang out.
Colin glanced up to see Lucas clutching his side. He continued to fight Jonas for control of the weapon but was unable to wrest it away from him.
“Lucas!” Savannah screamed, pushing him to his uninjured side.
“No, Sav,” Lucas protested weakly, “stay down. Stay protected.”
Colin’s grip on Jonas firmed, and he fought with a lethal intensity. “God dammit, you’re going to hell for what you’re doing to my family.”
Jonas sneered at him and then gasped, releasing his grip on the gun. He fell to his knees, a groan emerging. Colin wrested the gun from his lax fingers and blanched at the blood blooming under Jonas’s right rib cage. Jonas gasped for air, small droplets of blood gurgling forth with each breath.
Colin spun to see Savannah standing, dazed and yet determined, a sharp letter opener in the shape of a dagger in her hand. She gripped it tightly, watching Jonas. “Never threaten me or my family again,” she rasped before dropping it and turning to kneel in front of her father and brother.
“Don’t worry about me, Sav,” Lucas whispered. “It’s just a nick.” He reached a hand out to his father. “Father?” He grasped his hand.
Savannah leaned over her father, pressing her previously pristine ivory shawl onto his shoulder wound. She grimaced as he hissed with the pain. “I’m sorry, Father, but we have to stop the flow of blood.” She remained focused on her father and Lucas, who held first his and then Colin’s handkerchief to the wound in his side, ignoring the chaotic bustle of servants around them. She resisted firm, competent hands easing her aside until she realized it was the doctor.
“Mrs. Montgomery, perhaps you should tend your husband,” he said with gentle reproach.
“Help my father and brother, please,” Savannah said, releasing her hold on her shawl. She rose, grasping Colin’s arm for support as her shock-weakened legs buckled. She continued to ignore Jonas’s prostrate form on the ground. Colin led her to a side table with a pitcher of clean water and helped her wash her hands and wiped away a smudge of blood from her cheek.
“They will be conveyed to the hospital,” the doctor intoned. “The ambulance is here, and the hospital is only a short distance away.”
“Thank God the servants had the presence of mind to call the police and send for the doctor,” Colin murmured as he watched the doctor tend Lucas and his uncle.
“What more can be done for them?” Matilda asked, coming out of her momentary shock.
“Pray infection doesn’t set in,” the doctor said, as he nodded to Colin to help him carry first Martin and then Lucas. When they were both in the ambulance and ready to go to the hospital, the doctor said, “There’s no need to come to the hospital until tomorrow. All that can be done for them will be done.”
When Colin arrived upstairs, he found the police officers circling the room. A sheet had been draped over Jonas.
“Would you care to explain, ma’am, how your husband died?” an officer asked. He held a small book in one hand and a sharpened pencil in the other, while watching her with unveiled fascination.
“He interrupted my birthday celebration with my family, charging in here with a gun. Demanding I return home with him. He shot my father. My cousin, Mr. Sullivan, attempted to free him of his gun, but he shot again, wounding my brother. I …”
Savannah took a deep breath and met Colin’s worried gaze. He nodded to her and smiled gently. “I speared him with the letter opener.” She bit her lip at the pride-infused words. “I meant to hit him in his shoulder, but he stumbled, and it hit him lower.”
“You murdered your husband,” the policeman said. “You’re admitting it.”
“On the Ides of March,” his colleague muttered.
“I was acting in self-defense,” she whispered. “He had already attempted to kill my father and brother and was determined to come for me.”
The policeman read the name she’d supplied and then studied her. “You’re the one who left her husband due to mistreatment. The one the newspapers are full of.”
“Yes.”
The policeman sighed and turned to his partner. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we must bring you in, for further questioning and to ensure you don’t attempt to flee.”
Savannah paled. “Please, not a jail. I’ve done nothing but protect myself.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the policeman repeated as he reached forward and grasped her arm, pulling her firmly toward the hallway. “If you cooperate, I won’t handcuff you.”
Savannah nodded, attempting to forestall tears, and stumbled as she was propelled by the two policemen.
“As for you,” the policeman nodded to Colin and Matilda, “I’d plan to remain in Boston for the foreseeable future. You were witnesses and will need to be questioned further.”
Colin followed them down the stairs to the front door, grim faced as he watched Savannah led into a paddy wagon. “Where are you taking her?”
“The
county jail. She’ll have a private cell there.”
Colin bristled at the image of Savannah in a cell. “Expect a vocal contingent of supporters tomorrow morning,” Colin said and attempted to smile reassuringly to Savannah.
Savannah held up a hand, through the bars of the enclosed rear of the wagon. Colin gripped her fingertips, giving them a squeeze for courage. “I’ll see you soon, Sav.”
“Tell Jeremy,” she said through tears. “Tell him …”
“Never fear. You aren’t alone, and we’ll ensure you’re released almost as soon as those doors are closed.” He released her fingers as the wagon rolled away, watching its departure with a burning anger.
CHAPTER 23
AIDAN STOOD IN THE FOYER to the Parker House Hotel, awaiting the arrival of Delia and Zylphia. He practiced again and again what he wanted to say to Zylphia, but, the more he thought of his daughter, the more muddled the words became. Bright light shone from numerous chandeliers onto the rich wood in the foyer. Gold-framed mirrors along the hallway reflected the light, enhancing the warm glow.
“Mr. McLeod,” Delia said from behind him.
He spun to face her, surprise and then delight shining from his eyes. “Mrs. Maidstone, Miss Maidstone,” he murmured. “I am delighted you were able to join me for dinner.” He watched as both Delia and Zylphia paused to stare at the fine furnishings in the lobby. “Shall we?” he asked, ushering them toward the dining room.
Delia and Zylphia removed their coats before following the waiter to the table set in a small nook to one side of the large dining room. Other patrons sat scattered throughout the room, but at discrete distances from each other, allowing privacy.
“Why are we having dinner with you?” Zylphia asked, after she accepted a menu from the waiter. She attempted not to gape at the splendor of the dining room with its marble pillars, coffered ceilings and mahogany paneling.
Aidan grinned at her sharp question. “One reason would be that I know you had a birthday last week, and it seemed a shame not to celebrate it.”
Zylphia frowned as she studied the refined man in the impeccable clothes. “Why should you care about my birthday? No one bothers about someone living in an orphanage turning sixteen.”
Aidan shared a long look with Delia, who nodded subtly, granting her consent. “I knew your mother many years ago. Unfortunately we parted in anger, and I did not know she was to be the mother of my child.”
Zylphia frowned, looking from her mother, who was playing with her silverware, to Aidan, sitting with forced calm across from her. “You are mistaken. My father is dead, sir.”
“I am not dead, Zylphia,” Aidan said fervently. “I only learned of your existence yesterday. And, if you cared to look for it, the family resemblance is impossible to ignore.”
“Where have you been for sixteen years?” Zylphia demanded, leaning forward as her blue eyes flashed their anger.
“First I was away at sea, and then I’ve been in San Francisco,” Aidan said.
“You abandoned my mother, and now you’ve finally returned, thinking your sweet words and money will woo us to want to be with you?” She glared at him. “I’ve never been in need of a father, and I have no need of one now.”
“Zylphia,” Delia said, unable to fight the tremor in her voice, “this is not Aidan’s fault. He never knew he was to be a father.”
“I know you, Mother, and you must have had a good reason.” She turned to Aidan with a fierce scowl. “Did you treat her badly? Have another woman on the side?”
Aidan blanched, while Delia sighed. She glanced at Aidan apologetically. “It’s one of the disadvantages of having been raised in the backrooms of an orphanage. She’s been exposed to the seedier aspects of life.”
“At too early an age,” Aidan growled. “Zylphia, you will never know what joy it has brought me to know I have a daughter. Or what sorrow to realize all the years I lost with you. All I ask is that I be given a chance to know the woman you are now. I …” He broke off what he was going to say when he saw Jeremy rushing toward him. A waiter trailed him, attempting to prevent him from approaching the table, but Jeremy shook off his hand and strode to the table. At a glance from Aidan, the waiter faded away.
“Uncle, if I might have a word?” Jeremy said, gasping a little. He clutched the rim of his hat in his hands, his suit sprinkled with dust from the workshop.
“Jeremy, sit down before you fall down.” Aidan pointed to the empty chair at the table. “My nephew, Jeremy McLeod. I believe you’ve met Mrs. Maidstone. Her daughter, Miss Maidstone.”
“Ma’am, miss.” Jeremy nodded in their direction but looked at his uncle beseechingly. “I need your help. Savannah’s in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”
“What kind of trouble?” Aidan asked, his eyes sharpening.
“Colin’s waiting in the lobby. He found me at the workshop. Told me that Sav’s been arrested. For murder. Her father and Lucas are in the hospital.”
Delia gasped. “Is she all right? Has her husband harmed her?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. I doubt they’d let me see her,” Jeremy said, fear and impotent fury lacing his tone.
“Delia, Zylphia, will you please excuse me? This is an unfortunate turn of events, and I must render what aid I can to my nephew’s friend.” Aidan clasped Delia’s hand for a moment before rising. “Please, enjoy dinner. I’ll call at the orphanage as soon as I can.” He rose, speaking with the waiter as he strode out.
“What in God’s name happened?” Aidan asked as he and Jeremy met Colin on the sidewalk outside the hotel. They began the short walk toward Sophronia’s.
“Savannah insisted on accepting her parents’ invitation to celebrate her birthday with them. She’s missed her father and wanted to show her mother she was well. They asked that it be a strictly family affair, thus I was excluded.”
“And Jonas? Why was he there?”
“Aunt Matilda invited him,” Colin said. “Said she was tired of the ridicule and gossip surrounding the family.”
“Seems she’s only garnered more after tonight,” Aidan said. “How can they have charged Savannah with murder?”
“Because she killed Jonas,” Colin said, meeting Aidan’s incredulous stare. “He had a gun and had already shot Lucas and Uncle Martin, and I think he would have shot all of us if he could have. He gave no indication that he was going to leave without Savannah.”
“How did he die?”
“She stabbed him with a letter opener,” Colin said. “In an instant, he was brought to his knees, gasping for air.”
Jeremy pounded on Sophronia’s door, and the three of them were led immediately upstairs to a pacing Sophronia in the formal sitting room.
“About time you arrived,” she said in her scratchy voice. She nodded her thanks to a maid who delivered coffee and tea, following her to the door and firmly shutting it behind her. She waved the men to various chairs as she sat in her lady’s chair. “A letter opener, Colin?”
“It’s what was at hand, ma’am. And it proved quite sharp.”
Sophronia frowned and tapped her fingers on the wooden arm of her chair. “I’ve sent for my lawyer. I’m certain he’ll be most displeased at being disturbed at such an hour, but it can’t be helped. How are her father and brother?”
“I don’t know. They were brought to the hospital, and we were instructed we could visit tomorrow. They were both shot by Jonas and bleeding heavily.”
Sophie glanced toward the door at a gentle tap. Poole opened the door, admitting Sophronia’s lawyer. “Ah, Mr. Jurdaine. Thank you for coming at such an hour.”
He nodded, setting his briefcase next to his chair and sitting down. He crossed his legs, his chocolate-colored pants pleating with his movement. His deep brown eyes took in the three men sitting across from Sophronia. Aidan, impeccably dressed for dinner in a black suit, white starched shirt and polished shoes. Jeremy, covered in a thin sheen of wood dust and wearing worn pants and a long sleeved shirt. C
olin, whose light-blue shirt was marred with splotches of blood. All three men wore the same resolute, determined look as they met his stare.
“If you could bring me up-to-date?” he nodded again, this time giving his thanks for a cup of black coffee.
Colin spoke, giving a brief overview of the evening’s events.
“And you’re certain she told the policemen that she killed the man?”
“I’m certain,” Colin said. “It’s why they took her away and put her in a paddy wagon.” Jeremy grimaced next to him. “However, they granted her the courtesy of not handcuffing her.”
“This is highly irregular. There are mandates set forth by various court cases such as Runyon v. State of Indiana or Beard v. United States. They stated that a person has the right to protect oneself from attack, particularly when one is in one’s home. And I will argue, what had previously been one’s home and should be as her home, as is the case for Mrs. Montgomery, thus negating the argument of Allen v. United States.”
“You’ll be able to free her then?” Sophronia asked.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult. There is a strong court precedent for it, and there is a well-documented history of abuse.”
“I thought you stated the staff would never speak out against Jonas,” Jeremy said, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the lawyer’s show of confidence.
“They wouldn’t while he was alive, although I wonder if it will be different now that he is dead.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. One of the doctors who had associated with Mr. Montgomery died last week in a trolley accident. I spoke with his colleague about the potential court case and the concern for a history of abuse at Mr. Montgomery’s hands just yesterday. For some reason this colleague allowed me to see the notes taken. The abuse detailed is rather … extensive.”
Jeremy tensed. “Imagine living through it,” he hissed.
“I’d rather not. But, if this were to go to court, which I doubt it will, there will be a substantial amount of evidence as to the past abuse and the concern for future abuse at her husband’s hands, had he succeeded in forcing her home with him. That threat alone would warrant her need for self-defense. I suspect I will merely need to speak in front of a judge.”
Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 Page 22