Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (25 page)

Richard and Florence watched his departure before sharing a worried glance. “How long do you think she’ll make him wait and wonder?” Florence asked.

“I have no idea. I fear this last altercation with Jonas really spooked her,” Richard said. “I hate that she has the ability to hurt Jeremy.”

“I’m not. It means he’s coming back to us. No longer living just a half-life but able to envision a full life.” Florence smiled. “I hate that she’s hurt him, but, if he’s anything like you, he’ll forgive her.”

“I hope he doesn’t have to wait years like I waited for you, my black-haired beauty,” Richard murmured as he leaned forward to give her a kiss. He then bent forward and kissed the growing swell of her belly.

Florence blinked away tears. “I sometimes can’t believe we have this life, Richard. It’s as though a dream to me.”

He rose, grasping one of her hands and kissing her palm. “I wish I could provide a better home for you.”

“This is
our
home. What more could I want?” Florence stood on her toes and kissed his chin. “I love you, Richard McLeod, and I will never cease giving thanks that I was brave enough to risk trusting you again.”

“Nor I. Now all we must do is hope the same will occur for Jeremy and Savannah.”

Florence sighed her agreement as she rested her cheek on Richard’s shoulder.

CHAPTER 23

Montana, August 1902

I STOOD IN LINE at the post office on Main Street and waited my turn. I fanned my face with the letters I had written Savannah and Sophronia as no breeze entered the open windows and door. A large desk in the middle of the space separated the public from the private areas, with postmen working behind the desk to sort mail. To my right, small boxes fully lined the wall with a keyhole to open each box.

I inched forward and bit my lip in an attempt to hide my grimace as I heard Mrs. Vaughan’s voice. When I’d entered the post office, I hadn’t focused on the people in front of me, although she would have been unmistakable in her peacock-colored dress with matching hat. The feather hung limply around her left ear, withered in the heat.

“She has her purposes,” a voice behind me whispered.

I jolted at Cameron’s low silky voice in my ear.

“Are you willing to make a scene, Clarissa, to avoid speaking with me? For everyone, including the estimable Mrs. Vaughan, will see you rush away from me.”

The muscles of my neck and back tightened at his taunt. I clamped my jaw together and looked forward, refusing to turn and engage him.

“Still not going to speak with me, Clarissa? You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

I jerked forward, bumping into the patron in front of me to escape the grazing of his hands along my elbow. My gaze met the exultant one of Mrs. Vaughan as she passed.

“Ah, so wonderful to see the two of you together again.” I grimaced, both at her words and at her booming voice. “I imagine you have avoided Mr. Wright for so long due to your regrets, hmm, Mrs. McLeod?”

“I have no regrets, Mrs. Vaughan,” I said through pinched lips. I forced a smile as I attempted to move away from Cameron.

She laughed with a hint of malicious glee. “Ah, so brave of you to put on a positive face now that you have no alternative.” She turned around the post office to ensure she had captured everyone’s attention. With her imperious voice, it wasn’t difficult. “Mr. Wright, we look forward to your company at the family dinner this evening. It appears your loss, Mrs. McLeod, was my family’s gain. I’ve never seen my niece so happy.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” I muttered as I moved forward a place in the line. I looked around the post office, smiling wanly at the growing number of speculative looks.

As Mrs. Vaughan moved past me toward the door, she nudged me with one large hip, pushing me backward toward Cameron. I stumbled, reaching forward to grasp the person in front of me to no avail.

In an instant, I was in Cameron’s arms again with the scent of bay rum enveloping me, and I fought panic. I struggled to free myself from his tight grip, but he maintained his hold on my arms. “I wouldn’t want you to fall and harm yourself, Mrs. McLeod,” he proclaimed to all who were watching the scene. In my ear he whispered, “I knew you missed me. That you still dreamed of my touch.”

I stomped on his foot with my sturdy boot, the heel crushing his toes, and he grunted. I jammed my elbow hard into his side in my frenzy to free myself, earning another grunt. Finally I was free. Even though it had lasted only a few seconds, I began to shake.

“Reminiscing are we, dear Clarissa?” he whispered, leaning toward me as though helping to steady me.

“Trying to forget I ever met you.” I stepped forward, separating myself from him and attempted to smile for the postman. I looked down, surprised to see my hands empty of my letters. I had dropped them at some point in my interactions with Cameron, and I didn’t know where they were. I turned to look for them on the ground and grimaced at the thought of Cameron having my letters, even for an instant.

“Here, Mrs. McLeod.” I looked up to meet the worried gaze of Sebastian Carlin. “You seem to have dropped these.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carlin.” I reached out to grab my letters, clasping them to me for an instant before turning toward the postman. After a moment, I turned back to see Sebastian watching me from the side of the line. “Will you wait for me?”

“Of course.”

I paid the postage for my letters and departed. Cameron moved toward me as I was leaving but backed away when Sebastian cleared his throat. I reached Sebastian and walked in front of him outside.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Carlin,” I said. I closed my eyes for a moment as I took a deep breath. I felt his hand under my elbow as he propelled me into motion.

“Let’s walk a little, Mrs. McLeod. There are those in the vicinity who are a bit too curious about you.”

I nodded my agreement as we strolled down the boardwalk. Even in the shade of the awnings, I had to squint against the powerful late morning sun.

“Why were you at the post office? I would think you’d be too busy to be away from the mill.”

“I generally am. But I needed to send a telegram from the train station and decided to check for any mail on my way back to the mill.”

We walked for a few moments, nearing the workshop. I slowed, wanting to speak with Sebastian before we reached Gabriel. “Why would Cameron back away when he saw you? He doesn’t seem to care about anyone’s good opinion.”

“He cares for mine. Or at least gives the appearance of it.” Sebastian grimaced as he looked down the boardwalk, nodding to passersby. “He’s begun to work at the mill. Seems Mrs. Bouchard’s husband wants him to prove that he’s a good worker.”

I snorted. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. And I fear his laziness will end up hurting one of my men who needs the job. He’s more concerned with impressing the owner so as to be able to wed the daughter.”

“Will he cause you problems, Mr. Carlin?”

“When there’s a man like that around, there can’t be nothing but problems, Mrs. McLeod. I’d avoid him in the future.”

I nodded my agreement, and we walked toward the workshop. “Does Gabe know yet?”

“No. I haven’t seen him much since he reconciled with you.”

I blushed and bit back an embarrassed smile.

“And that’s as it should be, ma’am. A husband should want to be with his wife.” He nodded as we approached the workshop. “Ma’am.”

I smiled my good-bye before taking a deep breath and bracing myself to tell Gabriel the news. I entered into the well-lit workshop, light streaming in the open door and windows. Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight, and a cacophony of sound enveloped me from Ronan’s hammering to Gabriel’s whistling as he sawed.

“Gabe!” Ronan bellowed when Gabriel failed to turn around after a few moments.

Gabriel spun to face me, his face breaking into a broad smile as he saw me. “Darling. I had thought you were to mail your letters and then go to the depository.”

“I was, but something happened, and I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear it from the gossips.”

He set down his saw and motioned for me to sit on a bench near Ronan. “Should I shut the door?”

“No,” I said. “It’s nothing that serious.” Ronan watched me from behind his worktable, and Gabriel gave me an encouraging nod. “Cameron and Mrs. Vaughan were at the post office today. I didn’t want to make a scene, but it was put about again that I was upset in my choice of you. That I was morose over not awaiting the arrival of Cameron.”

“The only thing that will stem the gossips is if we continue to show how happy we are in our choice of each other,” Gabriel said.

“I know,” I said. “Sebastian was there. With one look, he kept Cameron from approaching me again. He can be quite fierce, can’t he?” I watched Gabriel and Ronan mull over my question, and saw Ronan’s amused agreement. “Did you know Cameron’s now working for Sebastian? That Mrs. Bouchard’s husband wants him to work for him at the mill to prove his worth?”

Gabriel gave a hoot of laughter and clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s fantastic! Some of the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Someone could get hurt, Gabe!” I protested.

“Preferably that eastern idiot,” Ronan said.

I gasped. “No one would intentionally harm him.”

“Of course not,” Gabriel said. “If nothing’s been done to him by now, and I’ve promised you many times I will not be the reason we are separated …” We shared a long, intense look. “Then no one will act now. Doesn’t mean he won’t do something to hurt himself.”

“Mills are dangerous places,” Ronan said, as he shook his head with amused disbelief. “What has you worried, Clarissa?”

“Why does he continue to focus on me? I’m another man’s wife.”

“Some men can’t admit defeat. Maybe he hopes he’ll receive some of that money from your grandparents by demonstrating how hard he worked to bring you round,” Ronan said.

“They’ve already given it away,” I whispered.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“My so-called dowry. In one of my da’s latest letters, he left space for Mrs. Smythe to write, which he rarely does. I haven’t heard from her in months. She took great pleasure in informing me that my dowry had been given to the group fighting the vote.”

Gabriel reached forward and stroked my cheek. “Does this bother you, darling?”

“No. It was never my money. It was always theirs. Theirs to spend as they wished. I was merely to be another pawn, just like Savannah.”

“Well, she paid a heavy price,” Gabriel said.

“Yes, married to the likes of Jonas.” Then I brightened. “Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s a letter I picked up today at the post office. It seems a bit tattered.” I fingered the frayed edges and tried to make out scrawled writing on the front beside the address. Gabriel moved us toward the rear of the workshop where he had a few chairs, only in need of varnishing. We sat close to each other, and Ronan began to hammer again at a shoe, singing a little ditty to give us privacy.

Gabriel smiled at the familiar handwriting and ripped it open. “It’s a letter from Jeremy. Do you think your Mr. Pickens will mind if you are a few more minutes late?”

I shook my head as I leaned forward, anxious to hear the latest news from Boston.

Dear Gabriel and Clarissa,

I continue to work in your old workshop, Gabe, and I remember much of what you had taught me. With time I’m slowly improving my carving skills. I wish you were here to help me, although there are still many here who remember you and commission me to produce fine pieces solely due to your name. I wonder if you really did have to leave all those months ago or, if that storm, like so many caused by our aunt Masterson, would have passed, too.

Clarissa’s cousin, Savannah, has visited us a few times. I never thought to have sympathy for one such as she, but I do. Even with all her trappings of wealth, she isn’t happy. Has anyone written you that her daughter lived? Her lowlife husband lied to Savannah and kept her drugged on medication for months with the hopes of preventing her from remembering the truth. He placed her child in an orphanage rather than keep her, all because she was a daughter. I’ve never seen a more haunted woman than Savannah.

Florence and I will continue to aid Savannah in her search for her daughter, but, so far, there is no trace of her. As for Savannah, she is no longer living at the mansion in the Back Bay but with a formidable woman who is your friend, Clarissa. A Mrs. Chickering, and I believe Savannah is slowly recovering.

Thank you for your frequent letters. I know you are happy in Montana, but I dream of a day when we are reunited again.

Ever your affectionate brother,

Jeremy

Gabriel glanced up and met my worried eyes. “There’s a postscript scribbled in here from Florence.” He continued reading:

Clarissa, there is nothing more that could be done for Savannah. Jeremy and I will do all we can for her. She is safe with Sophie. - Flo

I took a stuttering breath and shared a horrified glance with Gabriel. “What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to do,” Gabriel said. “I’m sorry you’ve been worried.”