Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 (25 page)

“Poor woman,” Colin said.

“I wouldn’t pity her. She separated me from my child, then took great joy in gloating about it. I have no sympathy for her,” Savannah snapped, smearing at the tears on her cheeks. She accepted the handkerchief from Aidan and scrubbed at her face.

“Delia,” Jeremy murmured. “I remember that name from when I was a little boy. I’d sneak out of bed and listen to you and Da talk late into the night. You spoke about her.”

“Yes. With greater frequency. She was the only woman I contemplated giving up seafaring for. After the fire, I couldn’t imagine any more changes in my life, not even for her.”

“But you did settle down, Uncle. You have a successful business in San Francisco,” Jeremy said with a frown.

“Only because I met another woman, six years later, who inspired a similar sentiment.” He half smiled with regret. “We had two good years together.”

“How did she die?” Colin asked.

“In childbirth. The babe died a few weeks later. Thus, Savannah, until I met Gabriel’s Clarissa at that fancy soiree in your house in the Back Bay two years ago, I’d thought I was truly alone in this world. I’d thought my nephews, and everyone I’d ever loved, were dead or lost to me.”

“But now you’ve found Delia again,” Florence said. “Along with your nephews.”

Aidan nodded absentmindedly, rose and grabbed his coat. “I’m glad Melinda is restored to you. I’m off for a ramble.” He donned his hat and moved toward the hallway.

Jeremy followed him. “I feel like our roles have reversed, Uncle, where I’m the one worried about you for a change.”

Aidan blew out a breath in a mirthless laugh.

“Come back for dinner tonight. I know Rich will want to see you.”

“Don’t waste your time worrying about an old man’s folly, Jeremy.” He shook his head as though he could dispel the regret roaring through him. “I’ll return in a few hours.”

Jeremy watched his uncle walk down the alley, his long lope quickly taking him from view before Jeremy shut the door.

CHAPTER 20

“SAVANNAH, HAVE YOU HEARD anything from Jonas since the newspaper stories came out?” Richard asked a few weeks later.

Savannah sat at one of the chairs around the table as Richard and Jeremy did the dishes. Her attempt to help had been declined, and she’d been relegated to a chair next to Florence, to enjoy the company of little Ian. Aidan sat silently at the head of the table, sipping a cup of coffee, while Melinda slept on the couch “I received a message from his lawyer that he is considering suing me for libel if I don’t cease the publication of my stories in the papers,” she said.

Florence rubbed a hand down little Ian’s back. “Do you think he will follow through with his threat and sue you?”

“I doubt it. If he hasn’t taken action after the stories that have already been published, I doubt he will now,” Savannah said.

“Does he know you’ve discovered the location of your daughter?” Richard asked. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from Florence.

“I doubt it. I also doubt he’d truly care,” Savannah said, unable to hide her bitterness. “I have yet to hear from Mrs. Maidstone about the possibility of meeting my daughter.”

“Well, as to that, Savannah,” Aidan said, “I heard from Delia today. She’s spoken with the parents who took in your daughter.”

Savannah held herself rigid, her hands clasped in her lap. Jeremy reached out and gripped her hands, giving them a soft squeeze of support. “What did they say?” Savannah asked.

“They’d like to meet you tomorrow at the Home.” Aidan watched her with compassion glinting in his blue eyes.

“Will they bring my daughter?” Savannah whispered.

“Most likely.”

Savannah let out the breath she’d been holding, her posture wilting. Jeremy scooted his chair closer to hers, and she leaned into him.

“I’ll be with you, Savannah,” Jeremy murmured in her ear as she burrowed into him, tucking her head under his chin. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Savannah straightened and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I can’t believe tomorrow I could hold my daughter in my arms. She’s fifteen months old, and I’ve never held her in my arms.”

Aidan strummed his fingers on the table. “There is concern that your daughter will have become attached to her foster parents and that her return to you will not be an easy one.”

“I fear that too. However, she is my daughter. I have every right to be with her.”

“I know, Savannah, but you must be aware that you will be taking her from the only home she’s ever known. She could act out.”

She met the worried glances of everyone around the table. “I understand the concern. But I need to see my daughter. Hold her in my arms. Ensure she understands she was always wanted.”

Florence nodded her understanding, blinking away tears. “No matter how much they love her, she needs to know her mother loves her and wants her. Always wanted her.”

Richard gripped Florence’s hand as everyone became silent for a moment.

“Tomorrow it is then, Savannah,” Aidan said.

Savannah nodded, trepidation and anticipation filling her.

***

SAVANNAH ENTERED THE ORPHANAGE the following day flanked by McLeods. Aidan preceded her into the orphanage while Jeremy followed her. Savannah paused in front of Mrs. Maidstone’s office, running a damp hand over her periwinkle blue wool skirt.

“Hello, Delia,” Aidan said. “Are they here yet?”

Delia rose and met Savannah and Jeremy in the hallway. “They are in the private front room.” She met Savannah’s tormented gaze and Jeremy’s glare with an implacable one, her shoulders tensing before she turned to walk past them, leading them back down the hallway to a closed oak door. She rapped on it twice before opening the door.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Woodhouse. I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Savannah Montgomery.”

Savannah moved into the room, her eyes scanning for her daughter. A robust man in his late thirties, wearing his Sunday-best suit, rose to stand in front of her, blocking her view of the woman sitting on the couch. He clutched his slightly tattered brown hat in his hands before handing it to the woman behind him. He nodded to Savannah, his piercing gaze of sleet-gray eyes roving over her fine dress. “Ma’am.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Woodhouse,” Savannah said. “Thank you for traveling to meet me.”

“Does she, John?” Mrs. Woodhouse asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes, Harriett.” Jeremy and Aidan shared a curious glance, but then Mr. Woodhouse stepped aside. “I believe you’d like to meet your daughter.”

Savannah gasped and held a hand to her mouth as though she were holding in a sob. “Oh, oh, my baby.” The child looked up at her, in complete ease on Mrs. Woodhouse’s lap, her blue eyes a match for Savannah’s. Her wispy hair was beginning to darken but still held a hint of the strawberry blonde she must have been for the first year.

Mrs. Woodhouse patted down the child’s worn rose-colored dress. “I never believed our daughter’s mother would come back to claim her. We thought her mother dead, her father unable to care for her, and that there was no other family.”

“No, not dead. I was told by my husband that my baby had died,” Savannah whispered as she moved to a chair near the settee. She reached out a finger to the girl and smiled as it was grasped tightly. “So strong,” she marveled.

“Much stronger than any of us could realize,” Mrs. Woodhouse said. “Why don’t you sit next to me so she can accustom herself to you?”

Savannah sat next to her on the settee, her hand caressing her daughter’s curls, her shoulders, her arm. The little girl smiled at her and reached forward to trace the shiny brooch on Savannah’s dress.

“Why don’t you hold her?” Mrs. Woodhouse kissed the child on her forehead and handed her to Savannah. The girl abandoned the brooch and began to play with a button on Savannah’s dress before moving on to clasp an earring.

“I see you’ll keep me on my toes, little darling,” Savannah said as she tilted her head back. “What’s her name?”

“We called her Hope. I know that might not be a fancy-enough name for you, but that’s what she was to us,” Mr. Woodhouse said. He clasped his wife’s hand as he watched Savannah holding their daughter.

“What do you do?” Jeremy asked. At their curious stare, he said, “I’m Jeremy McLeod, and this is my uncle, Aidan. We’re close friends to Mrs. Montgomery.” He watched Savannah flinch at him calling her by that name, regretting the necessity of using it.

“I am a mason.” His voice was laced with pride.

“A wonderful profession,” Aidan murmured. “I imagine you’re quite busy.”

“Busy enough in Lowell,” he said. “Although there are quite a few of us from my family and other families, so the work is becoming harder to come by.”

Aidan and Jeremy nodded as they watched Savannah cradle her child, whispering things in her ear and tickling her belly. She beamed at Jeremy when Hope squealed her delight.

Mrs. Woodhouse, a plumpish woman with wheat-colored hair and inquisitive brown eyes, frowned as she watched Savannah. She twined her fingers together on her lap, her work-roughened fingers resting on a worn chocolate-colored dress. “We are concerned that our Hope will be exposed to, please forgive me, but to a scandalous life should she return to you. Your story is all anyone talks about.”

Savannah blushed. “I understand your reticence, and I thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. I can assure you that I have no desire to expose her to ridicule.”

“Although you yourself are the source of gossip? You plan to live with a man outside of marriage, if the papers are to be believed. How could this be a proper place for our Hope to grow up?” Mr. Woodhouse asked, his face reddening. “Marriage is a sacred commitment. One that should be honored and cherished.”

“As long as both parties honor and cherish, I agree,” Savannah said in a low voice. “However, when one of the pair fails to show such regard for their chosen mate, it leads to great suffering.”

“As I explained to you first in my letter and then again when you arrived, Mrs. Montgomery was unaware that her husband had given away her child. She has suffered as she mourned the loss of her child,” Delia said.

“Is that the reason you left your husband? Because he lied to you?” Mrs. Woodhouse asked.

“No,” Savannah said as she paled. She kissed the top of Hope’s head, attempting to find solace from her child. “I left him because he attempted to break my spirit in every way imaginable. I finally realized I could fight for a different life or consign myself to a life of misery and succumb to the early death he envisioned for me.”

“I find it very difficult to believe any man could be that cruel,” Mr. Woodhouse sputtered. He reached over and grasped his wife’s hand.

“Believe it,” Jeremy and Aidan said at the same time.

“I’ve met Mr. Montgomery,” Delia said, speaking in a hesitant voice as she broke the tense silence. “He seemed a man determined to obtain whatever it was he desired, in whatever manner he deemed necessary. I imagine he would have been a difficult man to be married to.”

Savannah nodded her agreement.

“That does not condone abandoning your home and exposing your daughter, our daughter, who we consider a part of our family, to scorn. To ostracism by anyone of decency in society. We cannot countenance our beloved Hope to suffer such a future.” Mrs. Woodhouse took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “If we are to be expected to return her to you, then you must also be willing to make sacrifices. For giving her up will be the greatest sacrifice we have ever made.”

Savannah watched them with a guarded expression, holding Hope so tightly that she squirmed and arch her back in protest. Savannah relaxed her arms, and Hope settled. “What sort of sacrifice do you want?”

“If you truly want your daughter back, then you must be willing to create a loving home environment for her. You must return to your husband so that she can be raised within the respectability of marriage.”

Mrs. Woodhouse nodded her agreement to Mr. Woodhouse’s decree.

“Never,” Savannah whispered. “I will never return to him. And a loving home environment is not dependent upon my having a husband.” Savannah raised her gaze to theirs with one filled with righteous defiance.

“Then we cannot agree to have our daughter returned to you,” Mrs. Woodhouse said.

“She’s my daughter,” Savannah snapped as she rose, hitching Hope onto her hip “You have no right to keep her from me.”

“We fostered her in good faith,” Mr. Woodhouse said. “We’ve shown her nothing but love. She is our daughter now.” Mr. Woodhouse rose and approached the door with a pointed look to his wife.

“Please,” Savannah whispered as tears poured down her cheeks. Hope had begun to squirm to the point Savannah set her on the floor. Hope rose, gaining her balance and walking while holding onto objects, nearly teetering and falling along the way, until she reached Mrs. Woodhouse again. She smiled broadly and snuggled into her as she was lifted and settled onto her adoptive mother’s lap. Savannah collapsed onto her knees on the floor, as she watched her daughter choose Mrs. Woodhouse over her.

“Mrs. Maidstone, we will take our leave of you.” Mrs. Woodhouse rose. She paused as she watched Savannah, kneeling on the floor, a look of absolute dejection and hopelessness on her face, her shoulders racked with silent sobs. She stood with Hope on her hip, but, rather than turn toward her husband and leave the room, she moved toward Savannah.