A Daughter's Inheritance

by Judith Miller

  She’d never been so pleased to conclude the evening repast.

  Amanda stood on tiptoe and waved her fan in the air until she captured Fanny’s attention. Weaving her way through the crowd would take a bit of effort on Fanny’s part. Within moments, Amanda lost sight of her cousin amidst the throng of guests. She had hoped to visit with Fanny before the promenade, but it didn’t appear that would occur.

  The musicians had gathered in their appointed places. The grand promenade was a tradition that had begun years ago at the very first Summer’s Eve Ball. At least that’s what Amanda’s mother insisted when anyone suggested eliminating the ritual.

  Instead of Fanny, Sophie arrived at Amanda’s side, her entourage in tow. “Is your mother angry that Father didn’t make an appearance this evening? Or has she even missed him?”

  “Of course she misses him, Sophie. We all miss him. Mother mentioned last week that he hadn’t responded to his invitation.” She shrugged. “You know Mother. She detests any breach of etiquette. Uncle Quincy will be in for one of her lectures the next time they see each other.”

  “He’s so consumed with expanding his charity shelter that he thinks of nothing else.” She jutted her chin in the air. “He doesn’t consider that his own children consider themselves parentless.”

  Amanda offered her cousin a sympathetic smile. Sophie tended to exaggerate from time to time, but her cousin’s feelings of abandonment were genuine. Ever since the death of Sophie’s mother’s last year, her father had been consumed by his work with the homeless. “Well, I doubt you can speak for your brother and sisters, Sophie.”

  Sophie shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. They all have their own lives now. I’m the one who deserves at least a bit of my father’s time and attention.”

  That much was certainly true. Sophie’s eldest sister, Louisa Clermont, who had been widowed five months ago, lived in Cincinnati with her three children. Nadine, who had been the youngest sister until Sophie’s birth, lived in Rochester with her husband, Willard Snyder. They had welcomed their first child, Alfred, only a few days ago, and no one had expected them to attend tonight’s festivities. Nor did anyone expect Dorian, Sophie’s only brother, to be in attendance. Dorian had departed Rochester three years ago to explore Canada. He’d written only once since he left, and none of them had the vaguest idea how to contact him. He didn’t even know his mother had died a year ago. Of course Beatrice and her husband, Andrew Winberg, were in attendance this evening. Beatrice might not be enjoying herself tonight, but she would never breach social etiquette or disappoint her relatives—especially those of higher social standing. Beatrice had married a Winberg—a Rochester family but certainly not of the same social standing as that of the Broadmoors, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  Not that Amanda cared a whit about making the “proper” marriage. Personally, she wasn’t interested in marriage at all. At least not now. Jonas and Victoria Broadmoor desired proper marriages for all of their children, but they had conceded to the choices made by both of their sons. Grayson and William had each married a young lady of lower social standing. The Broadmoor social status had, of course, assured that their wives would be accepted into all of the proper circles. Neither Jefferson nor George, Amanda’s two other brothers, had chosen a wife. They were no more interested in marriage than was their sister. Yet when the time came for Amanda to choose a husband, her parents would expect a wise choice. For when a daughter married beneath herself socially, remaining a member of the higher class wasn’t guaranteed.

  The musicians struck the first chords of the promenade march while Amanda’s parents took their places at the far end of the ballroom, the guests’ signal to find their partners and position themselves in line.

  Sophie grasped the arm of one of her many admirers, leaving each of the others to locate an unescorted young lady. “Come on, Amanda. We need to get in line.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder while her escort preened like a peacock.

  Before one of Sophie’s rejected suitors had an opportunity to ask Amanda, her brother Jefferson swooped her into his arms. “I’ve decided to escort my beautiful sister in the promenade,” he said.

  She grinned and grasped his arm, thankful he’d saved her from a member of Sophie’s entourage. “All the unmarried young ladies will be wondering why you chose your sister instead of favoring one of them with your attention.”

  His boisterous laugh caused several couples to turn and stare at them. “I would tell them that I chose my sister because she is the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “And would you also tell them that dancing with your sister prevents any expectations from your dance partner?” She leaned into his arm. “An invitation to escort one of those girls onto the dance floor is not tantamount to a marriage proposal, Jefferson.”

  “I’ll favor several of them with my attention later in the evening. But you know how everyone watches to see the couples in the promenade. They all make assumptions. You know that is true, dear sister.”

  “Oh, dear me, I hope not.” She stopped and clasped her hand to her bodice. “Do look at who is escorting Fanny. If people make assumptions, our Fanny is doomed.”

  Standing near the middle of the line, old Mr. Snodgrass was clinging to Fanny’s arm.

  Fanny turned away and hoped her cousins wouldn’t notice she was now standing beside Mr. Snodgrass. If she had possessed more gumption, she would have loudly refused when he clasped her arm and insisted upon escorting her in the promenade. Instead, she’d mumbled a polite rebuff that he’d misinterpreted as an acceptance.

  “Fanny! This is my first opportunity to visit with you this evening.” Jefferson’s eyes twinkled as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “How are you, dear girl? And welcome to you, Mr. Snodgrass.” Jefferson extended his hand to the older man. The hearty handshake was enough to cause Mr. Snodgrass to wobble even closer to Fanny’s side.

  She cringed and took a sideways step. She longed to wipe the grin from Jefferson’s face. “I am fine. Thank you for your concern, Jefferson.” She stabbed him with an icy glare. “I’m certain we’ll have time for a chat later this evening.”

  “I’d be delighted, but I certainly don’t want Mr. Snodgrass to think I’m attempting to steal his girl.” Jefferson’s lips curved into a devilish grin. “Are you planning to keep Fanny all to yourself this evening, Mr. Snodgrass? I’ve never been one to come between a happy couple.”

  Mr. Snodgrass scratched the white fluff of hair that barely covered his balding pate. “Couple? Oh, we’re not married yet,” he shouted.

  Silence reigned. All eyes turned on Fanny. At least that’s what she felt. There may have been one or two folks near the back of the room who weren’t staring at her, but she couldn’t imagine why not. Mr. Snodgrass had shouted his remark loudly enough for everyone in town to hear him. If she could have found a hole, she’d have crawled inside and pulled it in after her.

  “Nor will we ever be—married, that is.” Everyone continued to watch. Why had she bothered to justify the old man’s remark with a response? Coupled with Mr. Snodgrass’s statement, her response appeared to affirm they were romantically involved yet not planning to wed. Forevermore! How did she get herself into these situations? She should have screamed her refusal. Well, it was too late now.

  The orchestra began to play the promenade music while Jefferson and Amanda retreated to the rear of the line. Fanny lifted her chin and continued to step forward, with Mr. Snodgrass resting heavily on her arm. Could the man even dance? she wondered.

  Jefferson had thoroughly enjoyed her embarrassment. Well, turnabout was fair play. She’d have her chance to return the favor once they were at the island. Fanny grinned, relishing the thought. But her smile soon vanished. Instead of spending her summer at the island playing jokes on her cousin, she’d be caring for Grandfather in Rochester.

  When the final chords of the promenade waltz finished, Fanny freed herself of Mr. Snodgrass. She helped him to a chair, fetched him a
glass of punch, and promptly escaped to the other side of the room before he could shout a marriage proposal in her direction. Kindness was one thing, but dealing with Mr. Snodgrass for the remainder of the evening went above and beyond what she could endure. The waltz itself had been sufficient torment. Dancing with Mr. Snodgrass had been comparable to attempting a waltz with one of her young nephews, only worse. Much worse.

  Fanny didn’t need to concern herself with Mr. Snodgrass throughout the remainder of the evening. As soon as he’d consumed his liquid refreshment, he fell asleep in his chair. Once some of their guests began departing, Uncle Jonas called for the old man’s carriage. After a final shouted warning about the war in Cuba and the state of the economy, Mr. Snodgrass bade the remaining guests farewell.

  Jefferson stepped to Fanny’s side. “I think you should have accompanied Mr. Snodgrass to his carriage, Cousin. He obviously is smitten with you.”

  Fanny jutted her chin. “I believe I’ll ignore your silly remark.”

  “You’re letting a good catch get away, dear Fanny. Mr. Snodgrass is quite wealthy. All the widowed dowagers would love to get their claws into him. Didn’t you see the evil looks Widow Martin cast in your direction while you were dancing with him?” Jefferson folded his arms across his broad chest and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  Without further thought, Fanny stomped on his foot. He yelped and danced about, though Fanny knew she’d not hurt him in the least. He’d probably felt no more than a slight thump. Jefferson continued to hop about until his mother walked toward them with a solemn look on her face. Fanny wasn’t certain whether she or Jefferson would be upbraided for their unseemly behavior.

  “All of the family needs to go to the parlor immediately.” That said, Jefferson’s mother continued to seek out their other relatives.

  Amanda grasped Fanny’s hand. “What do you suppose this is all about?”

  Jefferson fell in behind them. Soon Sophie caught up with the trio, clearly annoyed. “Why have we been summoned to the parlor?”

  “None of us know,” Fanny replied. “I doubt we’ll be detained for long.” “I hope not. I promised John Milleson he could accompany me home.”

  Jefferson exhaled a low whistle. “Does your father know about John?”

  “My father wouldn’t care even if he did know, so you can’t use that bit of information against me, Jefferson.” She chucked him beneath the chin as though he were a little boy rather than a young man four years her senior.

  Jonas Broadmoor stood in the center of the room, watching as each of the family members filed into the parlor. When they’d all assembled, he nodded for one of the servants to close the pocket doors. “I received word from one of the servants at Broadmoor mansion that my father died a short time ago.”

  Grandfather dead? It was Fanny’s last thought before she fainted.

  4

  Friday, June 18, 1897

  The day dawned bright and warm, a glorious summer day that Grandfather would have enjoyed. Fanny could easily picture him sitting on the balcony outside his bedroom on a day such as this. But Grandfather wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony this day or any other. Instead, he would be buried in the huge family plot next to Grand-mère in Mount Hope Cemetery.

  Relatives had been arriving at the mansion—crawling out of the woodwork, as Grandfather used to say. There had been no reason to inquire as to the length of their stay: the reading of the will would take place three days hence. None would depart until hearing the terms of Grandfather’s will—not even the most distant relative. Once the mansion had been filled to capacity, additional relatives had been sent to Uncle Jonas’s home and then to Uncle Quincy’s. A rare few had opted to stay at a hotel once they reached Quincy’s abode, for he had sold his mansion shortly after Aunt Marie’s death and purchased a small house in a less affluent section of Rochester.

  All of this had been done against Sophie’s strenuous objections, but Uncle Quincy refused to hear her protests. Shortly thereafter he poured all the profits gained from the sale of the family home into his fledgling charity. While Grandfather and Jonas shook their heads and warned against such a disproportionate contribution, Uncle Quincy chided them for their selfish nature.

  Fanny didn’t know about Uncle Jonas, but she certainly didn’t consider her Grandfather tightfisted. He regularly contributed to the church and charitable organizations. He’d even given a tidy sum to Uncle Quincy’s Home for the Friendless. But after Quincy had gone off on a tangent, which was the term Grandfather used when he referred to her uncle’s behavior, all gifts to the charity had ceased. Grandfather had thought it would bring Uncle Quincy to his senses, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Instead of kowtowing to his father, Quincy had disposed of his other assets and contributed much of the money to his charity. Only the small house remained. Until now. With Grandfather’s death, both of her uncles would inherit a vast sum of money. At least that was the assumption of most family members. Still, the majority held out hope that they, too, would be remembered in the will.

  Sophie, Amanda, and Fanny sat side by side at the funeral service. At first Aunt Victoria had opposed the arrangement, but when Uncle Quincy stated he had no objection, her aunt conceded. Sitting through the funeral service would be difficult enough for Fanny, but sitting by herself would prove unbearable. Her cousins would provide the added strength she needed to make it through this day.

  Too soon Fanny’s future would be decided by someone other than her grandfather—but by whom? If only she had reached her age of majority prior to his death. Then she wouldn’t need to concern herself with worries over a guardian. She suspected Uncle Jonas would be appointed, but what if Grandfather had decided upon some lawyer or banker? Someone like Mr. Snodgrass? She shivered at the thought. Surely Grandfather wouldn’t do such a thing.

  A half hour before the service, the church had already filled to capacity. Fanny didn’t realize her grandfather knew so many people. It appeared as if all of Rochester had turned out to honor him. Once the preacher began to speak, Fanny plugged her ears. Not in the literal sense, of course, but she quit listening. If she listened, she would cry, and she considered her grief a private matter.

  “Fanny? Fanny, are you all right?” Amanda asked. She gave Fanny’s shoulder a bit of a shake.

  Fanny realized Amanda had been speaking to her. The funeral was over and people were already filing out. She straightened and squared her shoulders. “I’m fine. So sorry to give you worry.”

  Sophie and Amanda exchanged a look before each one took hold of Fanny. Fanny thought it strange that they should fuss over her so, but ever since she’d fainted the night of Grandfather’s death, her cousins treated her as though she might break apart should any further bad news come her way.

  “I thought it was a very nice service,” Amanda began. She moved the trio out to follow the others.

  “It was quite nice,” Sophie agreed. “Grandfather would have loved the kind words said about his business capabilities and the importance of the Broadmoor family to the community.”

  Fanny nodded. She didn’t have the heart to explain how she’d kept herself from hearing a single word of the eulogy. In her mind she remembered the last time she’d seen Grandfather alive. She was to have told him all about the party. But of course that would never happen now.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how this event would alter the family. Jonas would now be the head of the Broadmoor clan. As eldest brother he would no doubt be the one who would decide her fate. She supposed it didn’t matter, but she’d never been all that close to the man. He had opposed the idea of her living with her grandparents, believing it would have been better for her to have been sent away to live with distant relatives who were closer to the ages of her deceased parents. Grandfather had refused the idea, however, and Fanny had blessed his name ever since.

  But he’s gone, she thought. Who will protect me now? Who will encourage me and show me such tenderness?

  “Well, I hope this
puts an end to our miserable summer routine,” Beatrice said rather haughtily. “If I have to spend one more summer listening to Lydia criticize our family, I might very well take to violent behavior.”

  Louisa, Sophie’s oldest sister, nodded. “I hate that woman.

  Just because she married into the Broadmoor family doesn’t make her a true Broadmoor.”

  “I know. There is certainly no love lost between the cousins, as far as I’m concerned.” She looked up, as if seeing Fanny and the girls for the first time. “Well, I suppose there are exceptions.”

  “I should say so,” Amanda replied coolly. “It would probably behoove you to stick to talking about what you know, rather than speaking in generalities.” She pushed Fanny away from the two women.

  “You two are really quite the pair,” Sophie threw out. “If you’ve no love for this family, then be gone and have nothing more to do with it, but leave the rest of us alone.”

  “No one cares about this family—at least not in the way Grand-mère had hoped,” Louisa said.

  Fanny stopped and turned to face Sophie’s sisters. “Perhaps that is because no one tried to care. Everyone seems so caught up in their own troubles and issues, they’ve forgotten the blessing of family. You all have one another now, but I have no one.”

  “That isn’t true, Fanny,” Amanda said, hugging her close. “You will always have Sophie and me. We are your sisters in every way.”

  “Better sisters than my own are to me,” Sophie said, coming to stand in support of Fanny. “Of that you can be sure.”

  Fanny was touched by her cousins’ support. Their words reminded her of what Michael had told her so many years ago when her father had died. He’d remained a dear friend, and yet Fanny knew that their time was no doubt coming to an end. He was four years older and surely had begun looking for a wife. No woman in her right mind would understand her husband slipping off to go fishing with his employer’s daughter.