A Surrendered Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  For the first time since he’d talked to Amanda, Blake felt a glimmer of hope. “If you have no objection, Quincy, I’d like to accompany you to Broadmoor Island.”

  22

  Broadmoor Island

  Quincy could barely wait for the boat to pull alongside the dock before he stepped onto the wooden pier. He extended his hand to Blake. “You may not be welcome, you know.”

  Blake nodded. “I understand, but even if your brother orders me off the island, I had to come.”

  Quincy grinned. “The last I knew, I still owned a portion of this island, so I don’t think he has the authority to order you to leave. On the other hand, your presence may lead to an uncomfortable confrontation, and I’d like to speak to Ellert and my brother before they’re overly displeased with me.” He nodded toward the boathouse. “I see Fanny and Michael are over at the boathouse. Why don’t you ask Fanny if she can arrange a meeting between you and Amanda while I go up to the house?”

  Blake sighed. “That sounds like an excellent plan. I was afraid I might be forced to return home without an opportunity to speak to Amanda. I’m certain Fanny will help.”

  Quincy patted the young man’s shoulder and then turned to the path that led to the house. Both his brother and Ellert appeared surprised to see him when he topped the hill and neared the veranda. He offered an affable greeting to them, but if their frowns were a gauge of their feelings, neither was particularly pleased to see him.

  Nearing his brother’s chair, he said, “I’d like to speak to you and Mr. Jackson in the library.” Without giving them an opportunity to object, Quincy continued into the house. He’d never been assertive with his older brother, and he hoped curiosity would force the two men away from their game of cards.

  He sat down in one of the leather chairs. When several minutes passed without the arrival of either man, Quincy drummed his fingers atop the massive desk in nervous fashion. Finally he heard the faint creak of the screen door as it opened and closed. He ceased drumming and folded his hands in his lap. He wanted to appear calm and composed when he spoke to his brother and Mr. Jackson.

  “If this turns out to be another one of your brother’s woeful tales that he needs money to help the poor and ailing, I’ll walk out.”

  Quincy clenched his folded hands as the comment drifted into the library.

  “Don’t concern yourself, Ellert. I can handle my brother.”

  He felt a momentary sense of satisfaction that today’s meeting would have nothing to do with requests for his charitable organizations. Both of these men would learn a thing or two today. They thought him lacking in business acumen, but today they would discover he wasn’t quite so laughable.

  Quincy remained seated when Jonas and Ellert entered the room. “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he said.

  “Invitation?” Ellert said with a frown. “It sounded like a command to me. And for future reference, Quincy, I do not take orders. I give them. Had Jonas not persuaded me to humor you, I’d still be on the veranda playing cards.”

  Quincy gritted his teeth. He’d be dealing with two pompous men, not an easy task under the best of circumstances, and what he had to say would likely make matters even more difficult. He waited until they had settled in their chairs.

  Jonas rested his arms across his wide girth. “Well, speak up. We didn’t come in here to sit and stare at one another. What is so important that you’ve arrived unexpectedly and called us away from a private discussion?”

  “Discussion? I thought you were playing cards.” His brother scowled and Quincy turned serious. “I have recently been informed of the ill-conceived plan the two of you have entered into, and I have come here in the hope that we can set things aright before it is too late.”

  Ellert chuckled. “Ill-conceived plan? I don’t know what you’re talking about. And how you think you could possibly help me with anything is beyond my imagination.”

  “Let’s don’t mince words, gentlemen. I know that Amanda is being forced to marry Mr. Jackson in exchange for a sum of money. It’s a bargain I find unconscionable.”

  Ellert’s eyes turned dark, and he shook his head. “Who told you this? Amanda? You’ve been misinformed, Quincy. To be sure, the marriage has been arranged by your brother and me, but I did not pay for Amanda’s hand in marriage. I loaned your brother some money, which he will be required to repay even though Amanda and I will be husband and wife.”

  Quincy straightened and threw a glance at Jonas. “Amanda said nothing to me, but I can see that the situation is as I’ve been led to believe. I can read it on my brother’s face.”

  “So Jonas has been complaining of his situation? Is that it?”

  “I’ve said nothing, Jackson. You know full well that I wouldn’t.”

  “Then where has your brother gotten such ideas?” Ellert shot Jonas a hard look.

  “Look, I know how to do business as well as you do.”

  “Ha! If that were the case, you would never have found yourself in such a bind,” Ellert countered.

  Jonas and Ellert continued to spar until they realized Quincy knew what had transpired between them. When the truth was finally spread out before them, Quincy leaned toward his brother. “Why didn’t you come and speak to me, Jonas?”

  “For what reason? So you could revel in the news that your brother has made a mess of the family finances?”

  “Is that what you think of me? That I would gloat over your misfortune? Surely you know me better than that. Did you think I wouldn’t offer aid?”

  Jonas sneered. “What aid? I needed money, Quincy. You’re the one who has spent these past years begging and pleading with others to give you money for your charities. What would you have done? Arranged another benefit and asked for pledges to pay your brother’s debts?”

  The sarcasm dripped from Jonas’s words. His brother held him in greater disdain than he’d imagined. “If that’s what it took. I have friends who would no doubt help.”

  Jonas jerked away as if Quincy had slapped him. “And let the entire world know that the Broadmoors were in financial crisis? We would be the laughingstock of Rochester. Society would turn its back and never allow a Broadmoor to darken its doorstep.” He shook his head. “You would quickly find that we have no friends.”

  Ellert guffawed and pointed an unlit cigar at Quincy. “You have no idea the sum of money I’ve loaned your brother. Your miserable friends and their donations wouldn’t be enough to sway me in the least.”

  Quincy scooted forward on his chair. “Can we come to an agreement, Mr. Jackson? Surely you do not want to impose marriage on an innocent young woman. She had nothing to do with causing the bad feelings between you and Jonas.”

  Ellert slammed his hand on the desk. “The only agreement I’m willing to make is the one I have already secured. I want your brother to suffer as much as I did. I want to take the only thing away from him that truly matters—his family’s respect.”

  The remark caused a stab of pain, and Quincy gave his brother a sideward glance before returning his attention to Ellert.

  “But it’s unfair to punish Amanda for her father’s offenses.”

  “Members of my family were hurt by your brother. That was unfair, also.” Ellert shrugged. “I’ve learned that life isn’t fair, and therefore I seek my own methods in order to repay those who have wronged me.”

  “ ‘Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’ Romans 12:19.”

  “No need to quote the Bible to me, Quincy. I have no interest in what your Lord has to say about those who have wronged me or how I choose to retaliate. I don’t look to God for help, and I don’t plan to wait on Him to mete out His vengeance. I prefer my own methods.”

  Quincy bowed his head and considered a response. He couldn’t permit Ellert’s statement to go unchallenged, yet he didn’t want the man to storm out of the room before they’d arrived at a better solution. He looked up at
the man. His features had hardened into an angry sneer. “None of us is perfect, Ellert. We’ve all sinned and come short of the glory of God. You, me, Jonas—everyone who has ever lived. And we’ve all been hurt by others. But freedom from the pain of injustice doesn’t come by inflicting misery upon others. You may feel some fleeting pleasure when you force Amanda into marriage, but you’ll gain no permanent relief by hurting her. Forgiveness is what heals wounds. Just as Jesus forgives our sins, we must forgive one another.”

  Ellert held out his palm as if to stave off the words. “Enough! I said I don’t want to hear your Bible verses, and I don’t want a sermon, either. I have no desire to forgive or forget. My wounds are as fresh as the day your brother inflicted them, and that’s exactly the way I want them. Pain is what makes people remember they are alive.”

  Quincy shuddered. “Surely you do not truly believe what you’re saying. It is love and kindness that—”

  “If you will not heed my admonition, this meeting is over.”

  “Wait.” Quincy reached for Ellert’s arm. “I promise I’ll say nothing more about forgiveness or the Bible, but please remain a few moments longer.”

  Fearful he might be detected before he could speak with Amanda, Blake silently followed Fanny up a steep path she’d declared safer than the main trail. She waved him to a halt as they neared the top. “Wait beside this tree and watch for me to wave you forward,” she instructed. “Many of the windows are open, and I want to be sure no one will see you and call your name.”

  Blake nodded and stationed himself between two half-grown fir trees that would keep him well hidden. He inhaled shallow breaths while he awaited her signal. When he heard a faint whistle, he stepped out of his hiding place and topped the hill.

  “This way,” she said, waving him close to the house. “Keep low so you’re not spotted if someone should look out one of the windows.”

  He was surprised by Fanny’s stealthy maneuvers until he recalled the stories Amanda had told him of the three cousins and their escapades around the island as well as in the city of Rochester that still remained a secret. They’d obviously learned many useful tricks. He wondered what any family members might think if they should see the two of them creeping beneath the window ledges as they circled the house. He pushed aside the thought. Fanny would likely tell them it was a game they were playing with her cousins. And they just might believe her.

  As they edged toward the rear of the house, Blake could hear an angry exchange taking place inside. He recognized Quincy’s voice and then heard a heated response. What if Mr. Jackson stormed out of the meeting before Blake could speak to Amanda? His mouth went dry at the thought, and he pushed Fanny forward.

  “Hurry. I think the meeting is going to end.”

  Fanny turned and placed her index finger against her pursed lips. Her searing look was enough to silence him. She motioned for him to remain hidden behind a small bush while she checked the kitchen. A moment later she waved him forward and pointed to the rear stairs. They crossed the kitchen on tiptoe and then hurried up the steps. After passing several bedrooms, she lightly tapped on a closed door and turned the knob, not waiting for an answer. With her free hand she grasped Blake’s wrist and yanked him into the room.

  Shock registered in Amanda’s eyes when she looked up. The book she’d been reading clattered to the floor, and Fanny lunged forward and clapped her palm against Amanda’s lips. “Remain quiet and I’ll remove my hand.”

  Amanda bobbed her head, and Fanny slowly released her hold. “You two don’t have long to talk. I’ll wait outside the door and keep watch.”

  “It might be best if the door remains ajar. I don’t want any accusations of impropriety,” Blake replied.

  The moment Fanny stepped outside the door, Blake clasped Amanda’s hands in a firm grip. “I have wonderful news.” He stroked the back of her hand while he explained Quincy’s hopes to put an end to the forced wedding. “Quincy believes he can solicit the help of old family friends and raise enough money to see this matter dealt with. I can’t imagine Mr. Jackson will refuse. I believe he loves money above all else, don’t you?”

  Amanda bowed her head. “No.”

  “No? You believe he truly loves you?”

  “No, of course not. But Ellert will not agree to take the money. He has already told me that his greatest pleasure is inflicting pain upon others. No matter what Uncle Quincy offers, he’ll never agree.” She withdrew her hand from Blake’s grasp and caressed his face in her palm. “You will never know how grateful I am that you are attempting to help, but neither you nor my uncle Quincy will convince Ellert to change his mind. He is cruel and evil. His deepest desire is to punish both my father and me.”

  “I don’t understand why he would want to punish you. The financial transaction took place when you were a young girl. You had nothing to do with it.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “He saw us,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “At Round Island—he saw us kissing. He was in a skiff out on the river—he’d come looking for me.”

  She shivered, and he longed to pull her into his arms.

  “He has threatened to harm me if I ever disobey him or if he should receive a report of me seeing any other man.”

  “I’ll not stand for this. How dare he threaten you! I’m going downstairs and confront him. I’ll not stand for—”

  Amanda clutched his arm. “No, please. You’ll only make everything worse. He means to harm . . .” She fell silent. “There truly is no means of escape for me. I’ve resigned myself to a future as his wife. Ellert has been clear—my life will be lived according to his dictates.” She released her hold on his sleeve and looked deeply into his eyes. “You must not continue these attempts to save me from Ellert, but please remember that no matter what happens, I will always love you. That must be enough.”

  “Until you are his wife, I will not accept this arrangement your father has made. Somehow, we must find a way.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but she took a backward step.

  “I can’t . . .” she whispered.

  Blake turned on his heel and trudged across the room with the weight of defeat hanging over him like a shroud. He hoped that Quincy had met with greater success than he had. Fanny was sitting outside the door at her self-appointed post. She smiled up at him as he offered his hand to pull her to her feet.

  “You don’t appear very happy,” she whispered. “Didn’t your talk go well?”

  “She has resigned herself to the marriage.” He shook his head. “She seems to have no will to fight against it. Even though she’s asked me to make no further attempt to save her from the marriage, I refuse to give up. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her.”

  Fanny glanced toward the room. “Wait here and give me a few minutes. Then we’ll return to the boathouse.”

  Blake took up Fanny’s position outside the door, and from his vantage point he watched Jonas and Quincy walk through the front foyer and exit the house. He glanced at the bedroom door. Fanny might be in there for some time. His curiosity attacked him with an intensity that wouldn’t be stilled. He hadn’t heard anyone downstairs since the men departed. With one final glance at the bedroom door, he walked down the front steps.

  Ellert stared at the library ceiling while he finished his cigar. He’d felt a sense of relief when Jonas and Quincy left. Let the two of them wander around their island and commiserate over their misfortune and wallow in their sorrow. The thought gave him great pleasure. In fact, the entire meeting had provided a great deal of entertainment. Simply watching Jonas go pale at Quincy’s suggestion that they employ the help of old friends had been quite amusing. Jonas couldn’t bear falling into social obscurity. He knew it would forever damage any hopes for business dealings—at least lucrative ones.

  Ellert chuckled. In time Jonas would come to realize that his position as a reigning leader of Rochester had come to an end. He could only imagine what Quincy and Jonas would d
o and say now that they were alone. Quincy was likely quoting Scripture to Jonas. Ellert grinned. Perhaps Jonas and his pretentious wife could take up residence in Quincy’s Home for the Friendless when all was said and done. He chuckled at the idea.

  With the same harshness that permeated his thoughts, Ellert stubbed out his cigar and blew one final puff of smoke into the room. The air had grown warm and dank. He looked out the far windows. A bank of clouds had turned dark and appeared to be rolling in toward the island. The breeze would surely prove cooler outdoors. He pushed himself up from the chair and ambled toward the library door. He’d made his way only a short distance down the hallway when he heard muffled footfalls on the carpeted stairs. He stopped midstep. Blake Carstead!

  With his fingers curled into his palms, he formed two tight fists and remained motionless until Blake disappeared into the darkness. Only then did he take four long strides and look up toward the second-floor balcony. Amanda stood looking down at the front door. Anger welled in his chest until he thought it might explode. No one had mentioned Blake had come to the island. When and how had he gotten here? Quincy. He must have arrived on the boat with Quincy. He clenched his jaw. The entire time the three of them had been meeting in the library, Blake had been upstairs dallying with Amanda. How dare he? How dare she?

  A fire raged in Ellert’s belly. “That young man will pay for this. Something must happen to him—and soon,” he hissed from between clenched teeth.

  23

  Friday, August 4, 1899

  Victoria sat at her dressing table pulling the brush through her hair, the gray streaks more noticeable with each passing day—or so she thought. She lifted the top layer of hair and examined the strands that lay beneath and then leaned closer to the mirror. The roots were definitely gray. She’d be completely gray before long. And little wonder. Few women would have survived a marriage to Jonas without turning completely gray long ago. Unfortunately, the mere thought of her husband had seemed all that was necessary to propel him into their bedroom.