A Daughter's Inheritance

by Judith Miller

  Theresa’s dark unbound tresses blew about her face, and she brushed the strands behind her ears. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing for the Broadmoors. They don’t have to worry about finding a replacement for you.”

  Perhaps Theresa could answer some of his burning questions. He wondered if he should broach the topic of Mr. Broadmoor’s death. “How long have you worked for the family, Theresa?”

  She shrugged. “It seems like I’ve always worked for them in some capacity. Mother was working for Mr. Jonas and his wife when I was born. My father died when I was five years old. The Broadmoors didn’t want to lose Mother, so they permitted her to move into the house and me along with her. As you heard, she was delighted when Miss Victoria listed me as one of the servants to come here this year.” She lowered her voice. “I truly was surprised. I thought with Mr. Broadmoor’s death they’d all be wearing their mourning clothes and not care about parties and the like.”

  Michael raised his brows. “And?”

  “Mr. Broadmoor said in his will that he didn’t want them mourning him.” She stepped closer. “He said they hadn’t cared about him while he was alive, so they didn’t need to mourn his death.”

  “He said that?”

  “Well, something along that line. The servants weren’t invited into the library to hear the reading of the will and such. But Treadwell, he’s the head butler at Broadmoor Mansion, was close enough to the doors to hear most everything that was said.”

  While Theresa held the door open, Michael hoisted the trunk and carried it inside. Theresa pointed to the trunk. “That one belongs to Miss Fanny. You can put it in whichever room is hers.”

  Throughout the remainder of the unloading, Theresa remained by Michael’s side. She carried an occasional basket or pretended to help him with a trunk. It was a charade to avoid helping her mother in the kitchen, he decided. He didn’t object, for Theresa seemed to enjoy talking more than most anything else. His simple questions were answered with lengthy, informative replies. Theresa was a virtual fount of details. He’d learned more about Mr. Broadmoor’s death and the family’s reaction to it in the past hour than the other servants would have divulged over the next two months.

  “Since this is my first time on the island, why don’t you take me for a tour, Michael? Once the family arrives, I doubt I’ll have much free time for exploration.”

  Theresa’s interest in the island pleased him, and he agreed to meet her once he’d completed his chores. When he returned to the house a short time later, she was waiting outside.

  She formed her lips into a tiny moue. “I thought you’d forgotten me. It’s been nearly an hour.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I needed to complete my chores and secure the boat in the boathouse. But I have enough time that we should be able to walk a good portion of the island. Does your mother know you’re going with me?”

  “She’s busy preparing menus with your mother. They won’t miss us.” She skipped ahead of him. “Tell me what it’s like living here. I’m amazed that this house is even bigger than the mansion in Rochester.”

  “It was built that way because the entire family comes here every summer. Each family is accustomed to being in their own home, so Mr. Broadmoor wanted to be certain there would be adequate space when they gathered under one roof. That’s what my mother told me when I was a little boy.” He grinned. “I can’t imagine they truly need all this space, but the men who build these houses aren’t happy unless they are huge.”

  “Status. They all want to outdo one another,” Theresa said. “They act the same way in Rochester. One after another, they build their enormous houses along East Avenue. Perhaps I would do the same if I possessed their wealth.”

  Michael led Theresa to an outcropping of rocks that overlooked the water and assisted her as she sat down. “Not me. If I had enough money, I’d buy my own island.” He pointed toward the diverse plots of land that dotted the river like a hodgepodge of stepping-stones. “I’d be happiest with even the smallest piece of land out there. No big house or steam launch needed. I’d settle for a tent and a canoe or skiff—at least until winter set in. Then I might build something a little more substantial.”

  Theresa laughed. “You must want more out of life than a small island and a tent.”

  “A woman to love me and children someday.” At the mention of marriage and children, he pictured Fanny. She would make the perfect wife for him—if only . . .

  Theresa tickled his ear with a wild violet. “And who might you be thinking of as a mother for those children you hope to have one day?” She tucked her knees beneath her chin and batted her lashes.

  “That’s not yet been decided. Most of the girls who live on the islands or in the villages can’t wait to move to a large city, and the girls who come here to vacation are wealthy socialites. I may never find the perfect woman.” He glanced toward the sun. “I need to get back. There will be things needing my attention with the family soon arriving.”

  Theresa took his outstretched hand and jumped up from the rock. With a sharp cry, she clenched his hand. Michael attempted to grab her other hand as she toppled to the ground. “I’ve twisted my ankle.” She lifted the hem of her skirt.

  The ankle hadn’t yet begun to swell. Michael carefully removed her shoe and gently moved her foot until she yelped in pain. “I doubt it’s broken, but I can’t be certain. Let’s see if you can sustain any weight on it.” He complimented Theresa on her brave attempts, but from her anguished cries, he didn’t think she could walk back to the house.

  She tilted her head to the side and looked up at him. “Perhaps you could carry me—if I don’t weigh too much.”

  Michael surveyed her form and laughed. “I doubt I’ll have much trouble. You’re no bigger than a minute. Since the terrain is rough, maybe it would be best if I carried you on my back. I won’t be able to see as well with you in my arms.”

  She gave him a momentary pout, but then agreed. Though riding on his back would not prove the most ladylike position, Michael didn’t want to chance a further injury. He was afraid Mrs. O’Malley wouldn’t be pleased when her daughter returned with a swollen ankle. And if Theresa wasn’t up and about by tomorrow, he imagined the Broadmoor women would be displeased, also.

  Theresa’s hands were clasped around his neck, and he could feel her breath on his ear as they continued toward the house. She was good company—not like Fanny but nice. “We’ll need to get ice on your ankle.”

  “You’re panting. I’m heavier than you thought, aren’t I?” She giggled. “You can say so. I promise I won’t be angry.”

  He shook his head and rounded the corner of the house. “I’d never admit—” At the sound of laughter and voices, he glanced up, straightened, and nearly dropped Theresa to the ground. “Fanny! When did all of you arrive? I mean, how did you get to the island?” The entire Broadmoor family stood in the path before him. One glance at the river and Michael knew they had ferried from Clayton on the Little Mac.

  Theresa wiggled and then whispered in his ear. “You can put me down, Michael.”

  He lowered her onto the steps leading to the rear of the house while the family continued onward. “I thought you weren’t to arrive until tomorrow. Mrs. O’Malley said . . .”

  Jonas Broadmoor looked over the top of his glasses. “And I decided we would arrive today.” He turned a cold stare on Theresa. “Don’t the two of you have duties to perform? I’m not paying you to play about in the woods.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, we weren’t playing about. Theresa fell, and . . .”

  Mr. Broadmoor continued walking, obviously not interested in an explanation, but Michael didn’t fail to see the look of betrayal in Fanny’s eyes. He must talk to her. Goodness, but she was more beautiful than ever.

  “Michael!”

  His mother was calling from the kitchen, Theresa was injured, Mr. Broadmoor was angry, and he’d obviously caused Fanny pain. On his way up the steps he promised to return with
ice for Theresa’s ankle. So far it was a glorious beginning to the summer.

  Mrs. O’Malley was down the steps in a flash, without the ice. Michael and his mother followed close behind.

  “So you’re already thinking to get out of some work, are you?” Mrs. O’Malley was standing on the step below her daughter. “Let me see that foot.” She lifted Theresa’s skirt, wiggled the ankle, and pointed a finger under the girl’s nose. “Put your shoe on and get upstairs. There’s nothing wrong with your foot.”

  Theresa didn’t attempt to argue. She shoved her foot into the shoe, laced it up, and followed her mother up the stairs. With a grin and a shrug, she strode past Michael.

  “There’s no time for romancing Theresa O’Malley.” His mother’s brows knit together in a frown. “We’ve enough problems with the family arriving unexpectedly, Michael. You know better.”

  Without giving him an opportunity to explain, his mother marched back up the steps to begin meal preparations for the unexpected family members. He sat down on the steps and rested his head in his hands.

  “I see you and Theresa have become fast friends.”

  He startled and lifted his head at the sound of Fanny’s voice. “Fanny! I’m so glad you’ve come outdoors. Would you let me explain?”

  “There’s nothing to explain, Michael. Theresa injured herself and you were kind enough to assist her.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought until Mrs. O’Malley chided Theresa and declared the injury a hoax. After watching her scurry up the stairs, I realized I’d been duped. I wanted to explain so you wouldn’t think I’m courting her.”

  Fanny smiled. “I’ve known Theresa for many years. Further explanation isn’t necessary. She’s a nice girl who is anxious to wed and begin a life of her own.”

  Michael changed the subject. “I was sorry to hear about your grandfather. We didn’t know he had died until I went into town yesterday to pick up supplies. One of the shop owners told me.”

  “Uncle Jonas didn’t send word?”

  “No, but that’s not what’s important now. How are you doing, Fanny? I can hardly believe my eyes. You’re all grown up.”

  “For all the good it’s done me,” she declared. “My life seems to constantly be in the hands of others to order about.”

  He listened while she told him she’d been forced to move from the mansion and that her uncle Jonas had been appointed her guardian and the trustee of her estate. “He wants me to go on a grand tour of Europe, but I truly want to remain here—on the island.”

  “Would your uncle agree to such an arrangement?”

  Fanny tucked a curl behind her ear. “Not without proper supervision. Even then, I’m not sure he’d agree. He’s angry that I inherited my father’s share of the estate, and I think he’s determined to force me to bend to his will until I’ve reached my majority.”

  Michael rubbed his jaw. “It’s lonely out here on the island once all the summer people return home.”

  “I know what it’s like, Michael. Don’t you recall the many summers when my grandparents and I would arrive well ahead of the family and remain at least a month after they’d all departed? I enjoy the solitude and beauty of these islands as much as you do.”

  He didn’t dare tell her he remembered every minute of every day that she’d spent on this island with him. When they were young, he’d been like an older brother to her. Sitting under the trees with a picnic lunch and reading books together, teaching her how to thread a worm onto her fishing hook and then how to remove the fish, exploring the river in her grandfather’s skiff and finding caves beneath the rock outcroppings—he remembered it all.

  “Do you think your parents might agree to take on the responsibility of providing proper supervision?” she asked. “We could talk to them, and if they thought it was a feasible plan, perhaps they could help convince Uncle Jonas. After all, I’ll be eighteen in March.”

  “We’ve nothing to lose by asking them, but I think we should wait a few days. Your family wasn’t expected until tomorrow, and Mother won’t want to think about anything except food preparations.”

  “Thank you, Michael.” She glanced toward the house. “I better go back inside before I’m missed, but I’m looking forward to a picnic very soon.”

  He nodded his agreement and then watched her return to the house, his thoughts jumbled. Fanny was now an heiress with a vast amount of money. To some, that might be exciting news. To Michael, it meant only one thing: the chasm between them had grown even wider. Unless he could find some way to bridge that gulf, she would be lost to him forever.

  8

  Wednesday, July 7, 1897

  Jonas sat beside Quincy in one of the outlook rooms in the castle turret. He’d been anxious to speak with his brother privately, but since his father’s death, either they were surrounded by other members of the family or Quincy would sneak off and return to his Home for the Friendless, which remained a matter of contention between the brothers. But Jonas was determined to present a magnanimous spirit this day. He wanted his brother as an ally.

  Jonas settled into one of the heavy leather chairs and puffed on his cigar. “It’s only early July, and already this has proved to be a summer of difficulties. Let’s hope our troubles will soon ease.”

  Quincy fixed his gaze on a freighter moving downriver. “I won’t be able to spend much time on the island, Jonas. I know the provisions of Father’s will require the men of the family to devote as much time as possible to the family during the summer, but I’m sure you understand that if I’m to keep the shelter afloat, I must be absent a great deal during the week.”

  “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 wo
rk, 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.