Glittering Promises

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “It’s as our father wanted,” I said, realizing I sounded as distant as I felt. Was all of this real? Was I dreaming?

  “You don’t look so good, Miss Kensington,” said the shorter Jefferson, looking suddenly, genuinely alarmed. “Maybe she’d better take a seat.”

  Felix gazed back at me in chagrin. “He’s right.” He reached out and grabbed hold of my arm as my head started to spin, my vision tunneling.

  “Cora!” I heard Will shout behind me but knew if I dared turn around, I’d faint for sure.

  “Felix…” I said, feeling sick to my stomach again, trying to gain a better grip on his arm but feeling impossibly weak.

  And then my knees were crumpling, and I was falling, all the men seeming to lean toward me at once, making it worse. But it was Felix who caught me, lifted me in his arms. “I have you,” he said. “I have you.”

  He stood upright as I fought the dizziness. The whole piazza was spinning now. “You two. Leave us alone, and I’ll see Grunthall gets you an exclusive interview in Rome. But not until then. Give us a few days to mourn. Remember your civility, if you ever had a measure of it.”

  With that, he turned and walked away with me in his arms.

  “Why’d you run, Cora?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stay with us?”

  “I needed…I needed to be alone. I’m sorry.”

  As he walked, the spinning in my head slowed. He paused beside a fountain, set me down on the wide edge, and reached out a cupped hand. “Here,” he said, bringing his hand to my lips. I drank, embarrassed by my sloppy manner. But it was good. I was terribly thirsty, I realized. Will joined us there, sitting on my other side.

  “You haven’t eaten anything but a bit of that soup since last night,” Will said grimly. “You’re feeling the effects, I take it, now.” He nodded toward me even as Felix brought another handful of water to my lips.

  My head was throbbing. “All right,” I said, pushing away my brother’s hand after drinking what I could. “You’re getting more on my dress than in my mouth.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a small smile. “Fresh out of crystal goblets here in the piazza.”

  “I appreciate it,” I said. “Think you two can get me back to the apartment? I think…I need to rest for a while.” I lifted a hand to my forehead, wondering if I was running a fever. But I felt no telltale heat.

  Will nodded. “Your sisters are heading there now. And they need you, Cora. Felix, you, too.”

  I tried to rise, but Will was immediately on his feet and sweeping me into his arms. “Uh-uh,” he said, shifting me slightly. “I’m not watching you run away from me again, Cora Diehl Kensington. Not today.”

  CHAPTER 19

  William

  Carrying Cora all the way to the palazzo was not easy, but he refused to set her down. Just as she felt compelled to run—apparently in some vain effort to cope with the news of her father’s demise—Will felt compelled to make absolutely certain she was restored to her family.

  Felix opened the front door for them, and Will climbed the stairs and gently deposited her on the settee in the hurriedly rented palazzo, her sisters bustling in, bursting into new tears.

  “Oh, Cora,” Vivian said, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. “We were so frightened when you ran off like that! As if it wasn’t awful enough… Please don’t do that again. I can’t take any more loss this day!”

  “I’m sorry, Viv,” Cora said. “And Lil,” she added to her younger sister. “You’re right, of course. I simply was…overcome.” She shook her head. “Not thinking of anyone but myself. I’m terribly sorry. I’m not used to thinking about siblings.” She looked around at them.

  “It’s all right,” Lillian said, her eyes red and puffy from her tears. “Now that you’re here and safe, we can get through this. Together.”

  “Together,” Felix added, coming around the end of the settee. “We’ve been stronger since you joined our fold, Cora. We need you.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Apparently, Father knew exactly what we needed when he invited you to join us,” he said.

  Andrew, in the corner with his father, let out a dismissive sound. Felix tossed him a furious glare and moved to engage him, but Cora reached out a hand to stop him. “No. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

  A maid came and poured them all glasses of water and set out trays of cheese and bread, which they all forced themselves to nibble. None of them likely felt hunger, Will mused. But they had to keep their strength up.

  “Children,” Mr. Morgan said, tentatively entering the circle around Cora, “I’m afraid we must discuss what comes next. We can bury your father here, or they can prepare his body for the transatlantic crossing.”

  Cora looked at her siblings, clearly believing this was their decision, not hers.

  Viv swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “He made his fortune and his name in Montana. That should be his final resting place.”

  Felix and Lil nodded, and Cora did too, then. It made sense. But it was an odd thought, Wallace Kensington making the crossing with them this time, but down in the hold in a casket. For a man who had wielded such power for so long, it seemed rather, well…powerless. But then, that was the end of every man and woman, wasn’t it? The end of their own power. And the full recognition of where true power remained.

  Cora, finally with a little color to her cheeks again, swung her legs over the edge of the settee and sat up, putting her hand to her head and blinking slowly, as if to fight a resulting wave of vertigo. “I imagine we all have a great deal of paperwork to see to, Mr. Morgan,” she said, lifting her hand for him to assist her up.

  He helped her and studied her in quiet admiration. “That we do. That we do.”

  “You rest,” Andrew said, glowering as if he’d reached the end of his meager patience. “We can see to things, Father and I. No need for you all to be involved.”

  “No,” Cora said stubbornly. “I will take my place where I ought.”

  “And I’ll be with her,” Vivian said.

  Andrew’s frown deepened.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Felix said, stepping up beside Viv. Lillian came to her other side.

  Andrew’s dark eyes shifted from one to the next, and then he tilted his head and forced a smile. “Not at all,” he said.

  Cora

  We moved through the next three days in somewhat of a stupor, seeing to my father’s airtight casket and embalming, choosing a proper suit for him, meeting with attorney. I sent Will to inquire if we might get home sooner, regardless if the ship was less comfortable than the Olympic, but he returned with news that there was not a single cabin available. We would have to wait for our ship.

  Settled into our new apartments in Rome, high on a hill, with a lovely view of the city’s numerous church domes—including the towering St. Peter’s—we sat down with Mr. Morgan, Andrew, Felix, Vivian, Lillian, Will, and an attorney, Kenneth Smith, who happened to be in town from New York.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to concentrate on the documents at hand. Upon my father’s death, the Kensington portion of the Kensington-Diehl Mine had shifted to my siblings. With Felix taking part in today’s meeting, I wondered if he might be ready to step up and take his rightful place in the company. Covertly, I watched him interact with Mr. Morgan and the antagonistic Andrew with some aplomb, exercising latent business skills that he’d carefully kept hidden. His presence relieved me. I knew he’d rather be anywhere but in that room, poring over document after document, but with him nearby, I felt less alone. Less weak in the face of Andrew’s growing animosity.

  Mr. Smith read through my father’s will with all of us. Mr. Morgan had apparently carried a copy with him, as Wallace had done for him, in case the worst happened. Andrew was the only non-kinsman in the room, solicitously holding Viv’s hand as she sniffled and listened. As I’d suspected, there was nothing in my father’s will for me other than what had been promised—a certain amount set aside should I wish to go back to Normal
School. The rest was to go to my three siblings.

  “But you, Miss Cora,” said the grey-haired man, peering at me over the edge of his spectacles, “are in more than adequate position to pay for your own schooling now.” He smiled, obviously thinking it somewhat of a joke. And I supposed it was, given the meager sum Father had set aside for school, compared to what had already arrived in my personal account. “Still,” he said, lifting the sheet and turning it over, “we’ll be certain that it is transferred to you when and if you return to university or Normal School.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “The Kensington heirs,” said Mr. Smith, looking over the documents, “shall be afforded a monthly stipend. When you graduate from university, Felix, it shall be doubled, and when the girls marry, theirs shall be doubled as well.”

  “And what if I choose to attend university?” Vivian asked quietly.

  Andrew’s coffee cup clattered to the saucer. “There is no call for you to go to university—”

  “But if I did?” she insisted, eyes only on Mr. Smith.

  His gray brows drew together in a frown, and he peered back at the documents. In a moment, he shook his head. “No, I don’t see any provision for that. Did you ever speak to your father about a desire to attend university?”

  “No,” Vivian said. “I didn’t get the opportunity.”

  Andrew let out a scoffing laugh. “Idle thoughts. There are better ways for the wife of a Morgan to spend her days than to have her nose in a book.”

  “Well, I am not yet a wife of a Morgan, am I?” Vivian said.

  Everyone around the table stilled.

  After a moment, Mr. Smith coughed and then turned the page. “I’m afraid, my dear, you would need to petition a judge if you wished to obtain a different settlement.”

  “I wouldn’t stand in her way,” Felix said. “Neither would Lillian.” Lil nodded her eager assent.

  “Be that as it may, it would still have to be revised in the will, and Mr. Morgan, as the legal partner, might have to agree to it. We’d have to review it with a judge.”

  Andrew smiled for the first time, as if that settled it. But Mr. Morgan folded his hands and bowed his head, obviously in deep thought. “I believe we’ll need to discuss that further, Vivian,” he said at last. Andrew scowled.

  I could barely cover my own smile. There was hope yet for my sister. Although I highly doubted that the normal monthly stipend would be anything less than generous.

  Mr. Smith proceeded with the reading of the entire will, and I excused myself, feeling I really had no business remaining. Will met me in the hall and walked out with me to the sprawling terrace that topped the third floor and afforded us lovely views of the ancient city. He came close and put an arm around me as we both stared to the horizon.

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” I said. “Never coming back. I can’t believe we’re here. In Rome.”

  “It’s a great deal to take in.” He pointed out the tip of the Coliseum, just barely visible in the distance, and the various churches, as well as portions of the ancient wall built two thousand years prior. He talked about the places he wanted us to see while we were here but gradually saw that my mind was on other things.

  “So,” he said, “do you think you would like to return to Normal School?”

  I smiled at him and then shook my head. “Running the mine will take every available hour.”

  “You could hire a manager.”

  “You seeking to apply?”

  He smiled at me and dug his toe into the marble tile, as if to dislodge some dirt. “No. I don’t know what a manager would need to know. And I still aim to become an architect, if God will smile on that plan.”

  “You’d be a fine architect. Maybe I’ll give you the money, and you can simply get done with it.”

  His smile faded. “That’d be generous of you, Cora. But no. A man needs to make his own way.”

  “Oh, Will. I know it, but—”

  “No,” he shook his head and looked to the city again, standing beside me at the rail. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  I stifled a sigh and then remembered our scuffles over the watch, and Pierre’s warning. A man did not like to be kept. It was a matter of pride, I supposed. Would it stand between us, even if he made his own way? If the mine produced what my father had thought it would?

  “Miss Cora,” Anna said, appearing at the terrace door. “They’re through with the reading and have requested you return to the table.”

  I did as they’d asked, begging Will to come along, moving back to the main living area of the apartments, and sitting down at the table. Vivian excused herself, and Lil went with her, and I tried to ignore Andrew’s heavy gaze following Viv all the way out the door, as if he were still seething over her question.

  “We’ve arrived at the Kensington-Diehl Mine documentation,” Mr. Smith said, pulling out a heavy set of papers from a leather folder and sliding a second set over to me, and two other sets to Mr. Morgan and Andrew. “As Wallace stipulated, if Felix is not yet ready to take his place in the company, then the Morgans are to manage the Kensington portion of the mine.”

  I dared not look up at Andrew. I could feel him gloating from across the table.

  “But it is still the case that I hold the majority share,” I said gently.

  “Yes,” Mr. Smith said.

  “And that means that if it came to a deadlock on a decision, that my opinion would rule.”

  Andrew stiffened at my words.

  “Well, yes. But there is also a stipulation in the documentation that you institute a board of directors, should Wallace not be available for counsel.”

  “We can recommend some fine gentlemen for the board,” Andrew said. “In fact, I have several classmates that would be most excellent—”

  “A board of directors,” I said to Mr. Smith. “What are the qualifications for a board member?”

  “Well, usually it behooves a company to nominate men of stature. Men with business acumen. Experience. So that they might advise you well.”

  “So they could be men from Dunnigan. Men who know the land and—”

  “What?” Andrew interrupted. “There can’t be more than one or two from that godforsaken town that would have half the wits it would take—”

  “Men who have sold the land to the mine and may be seeking a new way to support their families?” I asked.

  Mr. Smith peeled off his spectacles, one ear at a time, and tapped them on the paper. “There is nothing in here that stipulates who should sit on the board, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s what I’m asking,” I said. I turned to face Mr. Morgan and Andrew and Felix. “We’re radically changing the face of Dunnigan. I want it to be a fine new start for the town, not the death of it. I was very serious when I said I wanted to pay landowners double what the land is worth and leave them the land on which their homes and barns are on. Has that been done?”

  “No,” Andrew scoffed. “Your father thought you would come to your senses in time. He only pretended to agree with you in order to placate you.”

  “Andrew, please,” Mr. Morgan said, lifting a hand. “That’s not entirely true.” He turned to me. “Your father thought we could address it as a bonus when the mine does well. So far, all land has been purchased at the current value. And all seemed happy to sell. However, he did honor your request to leave them their homes, barns, and five acres around each.”

  I shook my head. “I want to go back to them all and do as I originally was led to do. Don’t you see? We have the opportunity to be a benefactor, a benevolent leader, rather than a company taking advantage of every citizen. Think of Zacchaeus, the tax collector. Once he saw the light, he went back and repaid everyone four times what they had paid.”

  Andrew rolled his eyes. “Now we’re looking to the Bible for business practices? Let’s leave such things to Sundays, shall we?” He turned to his father and Felix. “This is why women should not be allowed in busin
ess! They rule with their hearts, not their heads.”

  Will moved, and I worried that he’d pick up the man from his chair and toss him across the room. I set a hand on his leg, stilling him. I knew there wasn’t anything that he could say to win Andrew over.

  “This is exactly why women should be in business,” Felix was saying, sitting back in his chair. “My sister is going to create a company like the world has never seen.” His was a satisfied, proud smile. “It might not make the profits that others make, perhaps. But it will be a good company, a fine company, a company that any man—or woman—would be happy to call their own. She’s going to make the Kensington name a proud one. Stronger for our association with the Diehls.”

  “Bah,” Andrew said. “If you had paid attention at school in even your primary business courses, you would know such ideas are foolish.”

  “They may seem foolish up front,” Mr. Morgan interjected. “But they will bear out long-term. Look what happened when we followed her advice in Butte.”

  “One instance does not make her the expert, Father,” Andrew said.

  Mr. Morgan shrugged. “It was a fairly significant moment. Did we not succeed in leading our workers away from a strike? Are they not far more productive than before? Is it not affecting the bottom line in a positive way?”

  Andrew let out a dismissive sound.

  “We must take into account,” Mr. Morgan said, “that Cora is of Kensington blood and may very well have inherited her father’s business intuition. The man was uncannily good at ferreting out potential growth in any business he set his mind to. He did so with an iron fist, of course, rather than the velvet hammer as our Cora may wield, but I see no reason to not give her a little leeway.”

  “A little?” Andrew asked. He waved a hand toward me. “She wants to double the budget on land acquisition! Land that’s already been purchased. Who would do such a foolish thing other than a woman?”

  “I hear her goals clearly, Andrew,” Mr. Morgan returned. “I wonder if you do. Have you bothered to listen?”

  Andrew threw up his hands, sat back in his chair, and folded his arms. “Fine. Do what you wish. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”