Unrelenting Love: Banished Saga, Book Five Read online

  Tears ran down Zylphia’s cheeks. “That’s even worse,” she whispered. At her mother’s inquisitive frown, she said, “It means he doesn’t truly trust me. Trust in my love. Or he’d know nothing could alter my love for him.”

  “Teddy is afraid, Zee, with as great a reason as the one you had last year. You must find a way to alleviate it.”

  Zylphia’s eyes glazed over as she considered all her mother had said. “I can’t travel there. It would be sheer folly. Teddy and I have tempted fate enough.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing to do at the moment, except to continue to show your steadfastness.” Delia cupped her daughter’s cheek a moment before moving to rise.

  Impulsively Zylphia leaned forward and threw herself in her mother’s arms. “Thank you. I feel like everything is falling apart. The cause. Teddy’s faith in me.”

  “Those are temporary feelings, my darling. All will turn out as it should.”

  11

  Lucas entered his rented rooms, stilling when he saw someone inside. “How did you get in?” He smiled with joy at the sight of her. “I hadn’t realized we were practicing today.”

  “Your neighbor was generous enough to let me in,” Parthena said. She stiffened when Lucas approached her, jerking her head to the side so he couldn’t kiss her on the mouth. “Please, don’t.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lucas whispered. He ran a hand down her arm, eliciting a shudder, but he couldn’t discern if it was one of passion or distress. “Parthena? Why don’t you want me to touch you?”

  “It’s not proper, Lucas. It’s not like before.” She moved away from him, placing the piano between them.

  “Thena, I don’t understand why you won’t leave him. You don’t love him.” Lucas gripped her upper arms and then sighed as he realized he sounded as though he were begging.

  “I married him, Lucas. It’s what women of my class do. We marry. We provide children and a soothing home environment. We don’t care too much about anything.”

  “And you’ve failed to match any part of that description.” Lucas let her go, lest he begin to shake her. “You’re my equal, my partner in life.”

  “I’m so sorry, Lucas,” she whispered, shying away from his touch again.

  He froze. “You don’t see me the same way.” At her persistent silence, he laughed mirthlessly. “Of course not. I was simply the musician you entertained yourself with for a time. No one of true consequence for a woman like you.”

  She began to shake, and she gripped the edge of the piano to remain standing. “How was I to know my family’s circumstances would change?”

  “You should demand more than to be married off to the highest bidder by your wretched father,” Lucas growled.

  “I wish you wouldn’t speak of my father like that. He’s done what he has to do to see his family maintain its respectability.”

  Lucas appeared flummoxed a moment and incapable of speech. “Are you serious? Are you speaking about the man who’s complained of having to care for his daughters for years? Of the man who would sacrifice your happiness so he can continue to live the life of leisure he believes is his due?”

  “He knows no other way,” she whispered.

  “Dammit, Parthena, what’s happened to you?” He shook his head as he battled scorn for the woman he loved. “You’ve allowed your time among Wheeler and his cronies to make you believe you’re worth less than your own happiness.”

  “You and I are not separated because of my father or Morgan,” she rasped, battling tears. “It was my choice. One I’d make again.”

  He paled as he stepped away from her. He held a hand to his head, his gaze lost as he beheld her as though for the first time. “Why?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” She turned away.

  “Make me,” he demanded, spinning her to face him. “I expected better of you.”

  Parthena launched herself at him and beat her fists on his chest, pushing him back until he was against the wall. “You expected better of me? Of me?” Her voice rose to a shriek. “How can you stand there in all your disgusted glory and expect that I would turn my back on my family? When you would never have done the same. Not for Savannah. Not for Clarissa. Don’t you dare hold me to a different standard than the one you hold for yourself.”

  Lucas blinked, furrowing his brows in confusion a moment.

  Parthena shook her head in frustration. “How do you think it made me feel to have my father foist me on another man as though I were a problem he had to rid himself of? As though I were some prized animal, his to do with as he pleased? How do you think it made me feel imagining what could happen to my sisters?”

  Lucas watched her as though poleaxed. “You never meant to marry me, did you, Parthena? When you visited me after the announcement and asked me to be patient, you never meant to accept me. I was never good enough.”

  At her damning silence, he paled further. “You never meant for me to be anything but a diversion. You knew an announcement was coming. That’s why you were desperate for us to make love.” He stared at her, his passionate anger fading to icy disdain as he held himself away from her. “You never really wanted me, did you? It was always the piano, the things I could teach you, but never about me.”

  He shook his head at his stupidity. “I always held myself back, convinced that women were after my fame, my fortune, anything but me.” He leaned forward until they were nearly nose to nose. “How right I was.”

  When she attempted to protest, he reached for the door handle and pushed her away from him as he pulled it open. “Leave, Thena. Our association is over.”

  “What about the show? Our piece?”

  “The show?” he roared. “How dare you ask me about the concert after confirming all my beliefs about women.”

  “Lucas, you don’t mean this.” She outstretched her hands, but he batted them down before they could touch him.

  “I might have the misfortune of having you watch me perform, but, if you attempt to join me, ever again, on stage, I’ll walk off it. Notoriety be damned.”

  He nodded to the door, a grim satisfaction lighting his eyes as he heard her stifled sob a moment before she rushed from his rooms.

  “You’re being a fool, Parthena. If there’s anything I know about you, you’re not a fool.”

  Parthena leaned back and laughed without humor. “I’m the biggest fool of all.” She rose, walking toward the door. Sophie relaxed when Parthena turned from it and approached the windows, staring at the back gardens of Sophie’s neighbors. “I found my defiance of my father’s dictates exhilarating. And Lucas was an eager teacher.”

  Sophie sighed. “Did you, even once, consider the harm you would do Lucas?”

  Parthena glowered at Sophie. “He’s a man. He can do what he likes, with whom he likes, whenever he likes.”

  Sophie sputtered a moment, giving Parthena the impression this was one of the few times in Sophie’s life she’d been speechless. “Do you believe he doesn’t have feelings? That, because he’s a man, he’s heartless?”

  Parthena blinked, as though she were attempting not to cry. “He said I was his equal. His partner in life.”

  “Oh, my dear. What have you done?” Sophronia watched her with a mixture of despair and anger.

  “You believe I’m selfish because I acted without thought for anyone but myself when I was with him,” Parthena said.

  Sophie growled. “No, that makes you human. Remember, I know you. I’ve followed your upbringing even though your father detested me and wanted none of my influence to rub off on you. You aren’t spoiled. You aren’t inclined to hurt those around you. You aren’t mean.”

  Parthena stared mutinously out a window.

  “What you say is all a bunch of nonsensical drivel that you’re feeding yourself in an attempt to ease some of your own agony. I know your father faced financial ruin. That he planned to marry you off to the highest bidder, no matter how lecherous the man
was. However, you had a choice, Parthena. You always have a choice. Why did you treat that Russell boy so shabbily?” Sophie slammed her hand on her armrest. “Why delude yourself that you are worse than you are? Most strive for the opposite.”

  “I hurt him, Sophie. It’s like I ripped his dreams to shreds, and I could do nothing to prevent it.” She met Sophie’s gaze with her shattered expression, battling tears. “I had to protect my sisters, especially Genevieve.”

  “If there’s one thing Lucas understands, it’s protecting family.” Sophie’s voice was gentler. “Why did you have to hurt him?”

  “He can’t have any hope of me,” Parthena rasped. “I’m married.”

  Sophie snickered. “That’s never stopped the majority of our class from behaving as they’d like. I don’t know why that would be an impediment to you and Lucas.”

  “In exchange for the ability to play the piano at home and to continue to work on the causes that matter to me, I promised Morgan that I’d cease all contact with Lucas. Morgan is desirous of believing any pregnancy is due to him.” Parthena flushed as she spoke. Parthena moved to sit next to Sophie, taking solace from Sophie’s gentle clasp of her hand.

  “Morgan has his pride too but don’t let it stamp out your desires.” She chucked Parthena under the chin, forcing her gaze upward. “You did what you believed you had to do to protect Genevieve from a horrid situation. That is honorable. Treating Lucas as you have done is dishonorable. You may have come to the painful realization that you won’t be with him. That he can play no large part in your life. However, is it fair for him to believe all that you experienced was a lie?” She pinned Parthena with a severe stare. “Or worse, that you were merely using him?”

  “I can’t give him hope, Sophie. And I thought it best if he believed he was breaking things off with me.”

  “No, you can’t give him hope. But you didn’t need to be cruel. Even when we must let go of someone we love, it helps them to know they were loved.” Sophie took a sip of tea. “What do you feel for your husband?”

  Parthena stiffened.

  “I can sense it’s more than nothing.”

  “I wish it were nothing,” Parthena admitted. She paused as though thinking about her husband. “He’s present more than when we first married, and I have the sense he isn’t as annoyed about my piano playing as before. He doesn’t complain like he used to.”

  Sophie studied her closely. “You seem perplexed.”

  “It’s as though he’s trying to woo me. But I’ve already married him.” Parthena flung her hands up in frustration.

  “I’d imagine he’d desire more than your grudging presence in his life. And in his bed.”

  Parthena frowned at Sophie’s subtle criticism. “Buying me flowers and increasing my dress budget is little consolation.”

  “For what? For what you’ve perceived to have sacrificed? Parthena, you must either accept what you’ve done or make a change. You’ve done irreparable harm to your relationship with Lucas. Do you desire to do the same with your husband?” Sophie frowned as tears streamed down Parthena’s cheeks. “Decide what it is you do want. And then embrace it. Life is too short for such dillydallying.”

  “Sophie, will you be with me at the opening night of my art show?”

  Sophie roamed Zylphia’s studio, harrumphing her agreement at the paintings Zylphia had selected for her show. “I’d only present one or two of these. They highlight your tremendous talent, but they’re too depressing.”

  Zylphia frowned as she beheld the gray, green, and black paintings. “I’d think that, while we’re in the midst of war, people would stay away from color.”

  Sophie pinned Zylphia with a fierce stare. “You forget. We’re not involved in the war.” She held up her hand to silence Zylphia’s argument. “Yet. Yes, I know. It’s inevitable that we’ll become involved. However, even during times of war, people want to be reminded of beauty. Of why we’re willing to sacrifice our youth. These paintings”—she tapped the small pile of muted paintings—“do nothing to alleviate that yearning.”

  Sophie sat on Zylphia’s red tufted chair. “I’ve heard from Alice.” She smiled as Zylphia rallied and abandoned studying her paintings to focus on Sophie’s news. “She is grateful you are willing to travel to DC, but she’s uncertain she needs you now. She’ll write you when she has need of you.”

  Zylphia nodded.

  “As for your art show, I’ve never seen another man prouder than your father.”

  Zylphia shared a rueful smile with Sophie. “I thought I’d have a show, be successful, and thus proclaim my independence.”

  “Your father has invited everyone he knows.”

  Zylphia raised her brows at the word invited.

  “With the expectation they show up and purchase at least one piece from you.”

  Zylphia sighed, collapsing against the back of her seat. “He doesn’t … He refuses … to understand that he undermines my ability to show that I can be independent.”

  Sophie heaved out a sigh, looking her age for a rare moment as she watched Zylphia with concern. “At some point you must come to understand, just as your cousins before you, that independence is an illusion. One way or another, we are dependent on each other.”

  “I hate that,” Zylphia whispered.

  “If you were truly independent, you’d have no concern, no love, neither for nor from your parents. Your cousins.” As Zylphia paled, Sophie said, “From Teddy.”

  When Zylphia remained silent, Sophie said, “I’d think you’d regret what your desire for independence has already cost you.”

  “That’s extremely hurtful, Sophie.”

  “I know it is, but someone has to force you to face the folly of your beliefs. Your father won’t because he has too much guilt over the years he was away from you. Your mother won’t, for reasons unfathomable to me. You don’t esteem your friends enough to listen to them. Thus, it’s left up to me.”

  “I tell myself this is what I want. And I do. But I want other things as well. Things I never thought I desired.”

  Sophie watched Zylphia with kind eyes, nodding for her to continue.

  “A home. Children. A husband. More than anything, a husband.”

  “Have you told your young man this?” Zylphia nodded, and Sophie watched her curiously. “Then why are you concerned?”

  “Eugenie first wrote me about her worry, and then Teddy mentioned something I’m sure in his mind was innocent.”

  “But it’s caused you to fret.”

  Zylphia fought tears as she stared at her blank canvas. “He’s started a correspondence with a nurse who cared for him.”

  Sophie paled. “Oh, I see.” Her gaze became distant.

  Zylphia frowned, leaning forward to grip her friend’s hand. “Sophie?”

  “Of this, I completely understand.” She blinked and shook her head subtly as though clearing her vision. “Did you know that my husband was a doctor? A successful surgeon?” She ignored any response Zylphia made, staring at the blank canvas as though seeing a scene come to life on it. “He went away to war. The Civil War. And had a nurse help him.

  “It wasn’t proper at that time for women to do that sort of work, but, amid the carnage of war, he wasn’t about to refuse help when it was offered.” She smiled, a hint of sorrow mixed with bitterness. “I could tell he was forming an attachment. How could he not? The immediacy of what he had experienced had to overshadow the memory of his home in Boston. Of me.”

  Zylphia growled her disagreement. “You’re being far too understanding.”

  “No, I loved him enough to know that I would have welcomed him home with open arms and helped him overcome whatever he saw. Whomever he knew. Whomever he had to forget.” She pierced Zylphia with a fierce stare. “I never had to live through such a challenge, as my husband died. For your sake, I hope you find a way back to your Teddy, no matter what. It will be one of your greatest challenges, but I know you are equal to it.”

  “I’m
sick of challenges.”

  Sophie laughed at her grumble. “No, you’re not. You’d be bored in a week if he didn’t challenge you.”

  Zylphia watched Sophie with reluctant admiration. “I want to be you when I’m older. Parsing out sage advice to youngsters eager to hear it.”

  “You continue as you are, and you will be.”

  My Beloved Teddy,

  I’m feeling melancholy and nervous, and needed to write you. It’s as though, when I write you, I’m talking with you, and I don’t feel as alone.

  I’ve been lectured recently that my desire for independence is an illusion and that my love for you could be construed as a dependence. I am finally willing to admit that’s true. And it is a dependence I embrace willingly. The only future I cannot envision is a future you are not a part of. I need you in my life.

  I love you. I want you. I need you.

  No matter how much this war has changed you, no matter what you are afraid to share with me, know I will accept it and you. All I want is you.

  I am sorry. I know this letter must worry you as it is maudlin and pleading, but I wanted you to know how I truly feel. I have realized that I do not tell those I love how I feel nearly often enough.

  I am terrified of the upcoming show for my paintings. Sophie will be there, as will my parents and all my father’s cronies. However, I want my art to be appreciated due to its own merit. I know this makes me sound petulant and ungrateful, but my art is such a special part of me. To know that others might disparage it terrifies me.

  If it were not for the constant canvassing or the preparation for my gallery show, I would travel to England. It seems that President Wilson has been successful in his negotiations with the Germans, and the number of ships sunk has decreased dramatically. My father would forbid me to consider it, as any risk is too great a risk for him, but I am desperate to see you again, dearest.

  I pray that your recovery continues to go well, no matter that it is slower than you’d like.

  I remain forever yours,

  Zee