A Daughter's Inheritance (13 page)

“Yes—Father’s will left us all in a bit of a bind, didn’t it?”

He took a long draw on the cigar and blew a smoke ring into the air above his head. “I completely understand your need to oversee your work, Quincy. Just as I must oversee mine. For a man who made his own fortune, Father seemed to remember very little about how time-consuming it could be.”

“I do hope Victoria is willing to supervise Sophie during my absence. My daughter can be a handful at times.”

“I’m certain Victoria won’t mind. The three girls will spend all of their time together anyway.” Jonas flicked the ash from his cigar. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about other provisions in Father’s will.”

Quincy turned back toward the river. “The terms of his will were very precise. What is there to talk about?”

“Fanny’s inheritance. Surely you don’t think she’s entitled to the same inheritance you and I will receive. It’s not as though Langley ever contributed anything to the family.”

“He was our
brother
, Jonas!”

“I don’t deny that, but think about it—what did his life amount to? Langley was completely useless after Winifred’s death. He may have talked about his journalism career, but he never put pen to paper, and you know it. And how many grown men do you know who would have moved back home with a child after the death of their wife?”

“Mother insisted. You know that. She wanted Fanny to have a woman’s influence in her life. You can’t fault Langley for giving in to her. To be honest, if Marie had died when our children were young, I might have done the same. It’s been difficult enough raising Sophie for the past year by myself. And she was seventeen when Marie died.” Quincy tented his fingers beneath his chin. “Left with an infant, I think I would have succumbed to Mother’s wishes, also. Langley and I never were as strong as you. Perhaps it has something to do with your being the eldest son.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jonas said. “You were quite successful while working for the company. Father couldn’t have run the milling business or his later investments without your astute business acumen. And if you’d give up that idea of spending all your time and money on your Home for the Friendless, I could terminate Henry Foster. He can’t hold a candle to you when it comes to accounting and investments.”

“I’m not interested in the business. I feel God’s calling to do this work, and if you’ve brought me up here to convince me otherwise, you’ll not succeed.”

Jonas silently chided himself. He didn’t want to put his brother on the defensive. He needed him as an ally if he was going to succeed in gaining Fanny’s share of his father’s estate. Though some of the other relatives agreed with him, it was Quincy who would prove most beneficial. With Quincy on his side, he could present a unified front to any dissenting family members and to the court, if necessary.

“I think we should contest Fanny’s inheritance.”

Quincy stood and walked to the window. “I don’t think that’s wise. Didn’t you hear what Mr. Fillmore said? I don’t want the funds tied up because we contest the will. I need cash to keep the shelter operational. Besides, Fanny is entitled to Langley’s share. It’s what our father wanted.”

“And what if I could find some method other than contesting the will? Would you side with me then, dear brother?”

A wave of Quincy’s dark brown hair streaked with strands of gray fell across his forehead. “I think she’s entitled to her father’s share. Unless you can show me a reason other than what you’ve spoken of this afternoon, I don’t think I could agree. Of course, she’s much too young to handle such a large sum, but Father placed you in charge of her funds. I trust you will handle her money with the same care with which you handle your own.”

Jonas’s lips curved in a slow smile. “You may rest assured.” “If there’s nothing else, I believe I’ll go downstairs. The architect delivered his most recent renderings for expansion of the shelter before we departed. I brought them along and want to examine them.”

Jonas waved his cigar. “As you wish. I’m going to remain up here awhile longer.” He didn’t add that he needed to gather his thoughts and suffuse the anger that burned in his heart.

Quincy’s offhanded dismissal galled him. Now he’d be forced to develop another plan. And develop one he would. He had to. The investments he’d made earlier in the year had not played out well. Added to that, his own company was failing to make the same level of profits it had the year before. None of that by itself would have been damaging, but Jonas had spent large amounts of money on expanding his house and gardens, as well as purchasing a team of matched horses that had cost him a pretty penny. And the bills from Amanda’s trip abroad had been far more extensive than he’d originally thought they’d be. He wasn’t destitute, but his finances were greatly strained. Dangerously so.

One way or the other, he’d have Langley’s share for himself, and Quincy need not think he’d share in it, either. He’d given Quincy his chance. At the very least, with a bit of finagling, he’d mange to skim and pilfer a goodly portion of her inheritance with no one becoming the wiser.

After stubbing out the cigar, Jonas pulled his chair near the window and stared down below. Amanda, Sophie, and Fanny were gathered together on the front lawn enjoying a game of croquet, while Jefferson and George, along with several of the younger children, shouted instructions from the sidelines. Fanny waved and Jonas watched as Michael Atwell approached from the far end of the lawn.

Fanny touched his arm and then perched on tiptoe to whisper into Michael’s ear. The young man laughed and nodded while Amanda and Sophie continued knocking the croquet balls toward the metal hoops. Michael withdrew something from his pocket and then held out the object for Fanny to examine. Jonas leaned forward, his forehead touching the glass. What did Michael hold in his hand? Whatever it was, the object had captured Fanny’s interest. It appeared the young man had a way with the girls—first Theresa and now Fanny. If the young boatswain continued his amorous behavior, one of the local girls would have him at the altar before long.

Jonas continued to stare at the young couple. He paced back and forth, his gaze flickering down toward the lawn each time he passed the windows until he recalled his conversation with Mortimer Fillmore. They had discussed the possibility of an arranged marriage for Fanny.

He stopped. Fanny had placed her croquet mallet in the stand and was strolling toward the boathouse with Michael. He’d have to find additional work to keep that young man busy! Fanny tucked her hand into the crook of Michael’s arm. From all appearances, she was encouraging the young man’s advances. Surely young Atwell didn’t think he could woo one of the Broadmoor girls. Jonas would never permit such a liaison. If anyone thought Hamilton Broadmoor’s granddaughter was being courted by the hired help, she’d be blacklisted from ever making a proper marriage.

Jonas massaged his forehead. An arranged marriage was exactly what he needed for Fanny. And it looked like he needed to move swiftly. He would begin to prepare a list of possibilities. With a word to his business associates, he could surely locate the names of a number of possible candidates with the proper lineage and little intelligence. That was precisely what he needed. Unless he could arrive at some other solution, he must find the perfect marriage partner for his niece.

“I missed you,” Fanny told Michael as they walked along the island path to her special place. She had brought a bouquet of flowers to put there in memory of her father, just as she did every year.

“I missed you, too, although I have been quite busy. We built a new boathouse that kept us occupied.”

“I saw it. I thought it looked grand.” She gathered her skirt and climbed down the rocky trail to where she used to sit with her father.

The tree where she’d found him dead still stood as a reminder. Fanny could almost see him there. She bit her lip and forced back tears. How could it still hurt so much after all these years?

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to keep coming back here,” Michael said as he came alongside her. “It seems to only make you sad.”

“It’s not just sadness,” Fanny told him. “It’s the wondering about what might have been. I miss him so much. I miss my mother, too, but I suppose that seems silly.”

“Never. Everyone longs for a mother’s love.”

His voice was soothing and very compassionate. Fanny couldn’t help but look up into his eyes. No one in the world mattered more to her now. “I’m glad you understand.”

“I do. I can still remember that day—finding Mr. Broadmoor here. It seems like just yesterday.”

“I know,” Fanny agreed. “I always wished Papa would have left me a letter or something to show that he was thinking of me—that he loved me.”

“His actions showed that every day,” Michael whispered.

“Every day but the last,” she countered. “If he had loved me that day, he would never have left me.”

Michael reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “He loved you that day, too, Fanny. His pain caused his actions, but it couldn’t take away his love for you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She placed the flowers at the trunk of the tree and then straightened. “I’m so glad to be back here—on the island—with you.”

He smiled and the look he gave her caused Fanny’s heart to skip a beat. If possible, he was even more handsome than he’d been the year before.

“It always seems to take forever before the winter and spring pass and you return. I always fear this will be the year you won’t come back.”

Fanny laughed. “I’ll always come back, Michael. This is my home. I love it here more than anywhere else on earth. I’ll never leave it . . . or you . . . for good.”

9

Later the same afternoon, the three girls sauntered across the lawn until they reached their favorite spot beneath one of the large fir trees that dotted the lower half of the grassy expanse. They carefully positioned their blankets to gain a view of the river—watching the water flow by was one of Fanny’s favorite pastimes on warm afternoons such as this.

Sophie tucked her dress around her legs and leaned against the trunk of the ancient conifer while Amanda settled between her two younger cousins. Sophie had promised to give them a full account of the Independence Day party she had attended at Brown Square. Though Amanda and Fanny had been much too frightened to sneak off with Sophie that day, they both were eager to hear the details now.

Fanny brushed a persistent fly from the sleeve of her striped shirtwaist. “Well? Did you have as much fun as you expected?”

Sophie bobbed her head. “Of course. In fact, even more. I met two wonderful young men who were ever so sad to hear I would be leaving Rochester for the summer. They’ve promised to come calling the minute I return to town. Both of them were quite handsome, too.” She giggled and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Promise you won’t tell a soul, but I permitted one of them to remove my shoes so I could get my feet wet.”

Amanda gasped and clutched her bodice. “Please tell me that’s
all
you let him remove.”

“If you’re worried about my stockings, fear not, Amanda. I would have preferred to remove them, but it didn’t seem prudent at the time. Instead, I waded in with them on. The men thought me a good sport.” Sophie leaned forward and sighed. “They were both so attentive all evening. I think they were competing to see which one would have the privilege of escorting me home. The boys offered to buy me some of the German beer that was for sale in the park, but I told them I didn’t like the taste. Do you know what Wilhelm did then?”

Amanda quirked her brows. “I can only imagine.”

“He went and got me a large cup of fruit punch.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder. “And then he removed a silver flask from inside his jacket and poured some whiskey into the punch. It was wonderful.”

Amanda’s eyes grew wide. “That’s disgraceful, Sophie. Those boys were likely hoping to get you drunk in order to take advantage of you.” She grasped Sophie’s hand. “Please tell me that didn’t occur.”

Sophie laughed. “You need not worry, Amanda. It would have taken more than that to render me defenseless.”

“You’re accustomed to imbibing alcoholic drinks?” Fanny’s mouth gaped.

“I’ve had more than my share, I suppose. Oh, do close your mouth, Fanny. There are far worse things than alcohol. I could tell you about them, but I fear both of you would faint—and how could I possibly explain that to the family?” Sophie pointed toward a launch filled with summer visitors. “I’d guess they’re on their way to the party at Hopewell Hall. I do wish your mother would have given permission for us to attend. I’d love to sneak off to that party, but this isn’t like being at home. Here, I have your mother watching after my comings and goings.”

There was little doubt Sophie was unhappy. She’d been pouting ever since discovering Aunt Victoria had sent regrets to the Browning residence on Farwell Island. Several of William Browning’s grandsons were hosting a party at their grandfather’s island, and all three of the girls had hoped to attend. Even Fanny enjoyed the occasional gatherings hosted at the home of the man who had spawned his fortune making uniforms for the Union Army during the American Civil War. Hopewell Hall provided a spectacular view from its perch high above the river, and though Fanny didn’t care about mingling with the elite, she did enjoy exploring every island she visited and watching the variety of boats and barges that consistently dotted the waterway.

Amanda patted Sophie’s folded hands. “There will be parties all summer long, dear Sophie. Mother wanted us all in attendance to welcome your sister. After all, this has been a trying time for Louisa and her children.”

Sophie shrugged. “My entire life has been trying.”

Fanny giggled.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Fanny. You have no idea of the difficulties I’ve been forced to endure.”

Fanny leaned forward and peeked around Amanda. “You are so dramatic, dear Cousin. I fear I haven’t noted the many tragedies you’ve suffered. Do tell us of all your horrid life experiences so we may commiserate with you.”

Ever melodramatic, Sophie gazed heavenward and exhaled deeply. “How could you possibly fail to notice, Fanny? While my mother was alive, she was always consumed with my brother and sisters. Even when they were gone from home, she didn’t have time for me. She was either worried about Dorian being forever lost to her in the Canadian backcountry or worried about my sisters’ marriages and the births of her grandchildren. There was never time for me.”