“Sit down over here by this tree.” Fanny glanced over her shoulder to make certain none of the young men had followed. “I am in dire need of your help.”
Sophie straightened the delicate edging on the sleeve of her dress. “There’s no doubt about that!”
Fanny ignored the remark and hastily explained Michael was departing for the Yukon and that he’d made an agreement with Amanda’s father. “Please promise you’ll not tell anyone about this. Not even your mother, Amanda.”
“I promise, but I find all of this most unsettling. I don’t understand why my father believes he must be so involved with your future. I understand he’s your legal guardian, but he’s taking those duties more to heart than parenting his own children.”
“No need to become so dramatic, Amanda. You should be thankful it’s Fanny he wants to control. Remember, you’re the one who keeps telling us you’re intent upon discovering your true calling in life rather than merely finding a man and exchanging marriage vows.”
“I never meant that I didn’t want to wed some day, and Father should care about the plans for my future, too.”
Sophie snapped open her fan with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, do enjoy your freedom, you silly goose.”
The men had been gathered on the porch but were now strolling toward them. Fanny grasped Sophie’s hand. “I need you to speak with Sanger about the polo matches and the ball. Ask him if he’ll act as my escort.”
Sophie chortled. “You treacherous girl! I wondered when Sanger had invited you.”
“You mean—” Amanda gasped.
“That’s exactly what she means, Amanda.” Sophie snapped her fan together. “I truly didn’t think you had a devious bone in your body, Fanny, but it appears that Uncle Jonas’s desire to control your life has turned you from the straight and narrow.”
Fanny ignored the remark. “Will you help me?”
“Of course I will. I’ll have Michael deliver a note this very morning.”
Amanda tied a ribbon around her hair and walked to the window. “Here comes Sophie, and she has an envelope in her hand. Do you think she’s already received word back from Sanger?”
Fanny joined her cousin near the window. “Let’s hope so. This has been a most worrisome day. If your father discovers my misdeed, he’ll force me to accept Daniel’s offer. And that’s an invitation I find most distasteful.”
Waving the envelope overhead, Sophie rushed into the room and dropped onto the side of the bed. “Bad news, I fear.”
Fanny stepped forward. “What do you mean?”
“Martha Benson has already accepted Sanger’s invitation to the polo matches and dance.”
21
Saturday, August 14, 1897
Amanda and Sophie stood on the veranda and watched as the Little Mac docked and two men disembarked and trudged up the path toward the house. Sophie shaded her eyes. With a scowl, she turned away and folded her arms across her waist. “Oh, forevermore! I do wish Father wouldn’t bring Paul with him every time he makes an appearance on the island.”
“Paul seems very nice, except when his surprises cause you to fall into the river.” Amanda giggled.
“I don’t find your comment humorous. And if you think he’s so nice, you may entertain him during his visit. I grow weary of his chiding comments.” Sophie ran down the path and greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek.
Except for a curt greeting, Sophie appeared to ignore Paul until they arrived at the veranda. With a mischievous grin, she pulled Amanda forward and then turned her attention to Paul. “Amanda tells me she would like to visit with you about her interest in charity work. If you’re very nice, I’m certain she’d be glad to offer you a glass of lemonade, wouldn’t you, Amanda?”
Amanda glared at her cousin. She didn’t want to participate in this silly charade, but she wouldn’t be rude or embarrass Paul. “Yes, of course. I’d be delighted to fetch a pitcher of lemonade.”
Paul hurried behind her and opened the door. “May I help?”
“You young people shouldn’t be interested in spending your day indoors. It’s much too pretty a day,” her mother said as she walked down the front stairway. Light spilled through the door and Victoria squinted. “Ah, Paul. I didn’t realize you were here. May I assume Quincy has finally arrived?”
“Yes, Mrs. Broadmoor. We were detained in Rochester. Problems arose that needed immediate attention.”
Mrs. Broadmoor instructed one of the servants to bring lemonade to the veranda as she grasped Paul’s arm. “Do come outdoors and tell us all about what’s been happening.” With a quick look around the porch, she turned to Paul. “And where is Quincy? Has he gone off in search of Jonas? I’d think he would want to spend some time visiting with Sophie.”
“He spoke with Sophie upon our arrival, but I believe she hurried off to play croquet with some of the gentlemen who are visiting.” Paul’s gaze drifted toward the sounds of boisterous laughter beyond the house. “Mr. Broadmoor had a matter of great import to discuss with your husband.”
“Regarding your delayed arrival? We expected Quincy to arrive Friday evening and here it is Saturday afternoon.” Mrs. Broadmoor motioned the approaching servant to place the lemonade on a nearby table. “Why don’t you pour us each a glass, Amanda?”
“I know he disliked the delay, Mrs. Broadmoor. There was a fire in a tenement building that left many with nothing but the clothes on their backs. A number came to us seeking food and shelter. We couldn’t turn them away in their hour of need.” Paul shook his head. “We don’t have adequate space for them all, but they have nowhere to go. Some of the churches are collecting clothes and donating what they can to help defray our additional expenses, but the budget of the Home for the Friendless is already stretched beyond its limits.”
Victoria wiped the beads of condensation from her lemonade glass with a linen napkin. “Dear me, this is unfortunate. The timing couldn’t be worse, what with so many of us out of the city for the summer.”
“Financial donations have been limited for that very reason. We have willing hands, but we need funds with which to purchase food and help these people reestablish a place to live.”
“No doubt you are in dire need of the organizational skills of the Ladies’ League. I do wish I could offer assistance, but we won’t be returning to Rochester until early September.” Victoria set her glass on the table. “That’s not so far off. Could you make do until then?”
“What about me, Mother?” Amanda chimed in. “I could return with Uncle Quincy and help. You know I desire to devote my energies to charitable work. This would permit me a grand opportunity to test my skills.”
“Oh dear, Amanda. Neither your father nor I would agree to such an idea. I am surprised you would even suggest such an arrangement.”
“There are servants at the house. I wouldn’t be alone. Perhaps some of those homeless people could come and stay at Broadmoor Mansion or at our house until they . . .”
Victoria paled and shook her head. “That is not even a possibility. While we are called to help the less fortunate, sound and rational judgment is necessary. The fact that you would even make such a foolhardy suggestion demonstrates your inexperience.”
Amanda frowned. “If we have an empty house, servants, and food, why is my suggestion inappropriate?”
“I greatly appreciate your offer to help,” Paul interjected, “but I must agree with your mother. Though I commend your charitable spirit, an unescorted return to Rochester would be highly inappropriate.”
Amanda rested her arm on the chair. “I can’t go into the mission field unless I am married, and I am in need of an escort if I’m to be of assistance in the city. How am I ever to fulfill my desire to make a difference in the world?”
“Forgive me for being so bold, but I am surprised you’re not making marriage plans, Miss Broadmoor. I’m certain you have no lack of eligible suitors.”
Amanda tapped her fan in her palm. “I do plan to wed and have childre
n one day. But before that time arrives, I want to explore other possibilities. It would appear, however, that society will not permit me to do so without my good name being ruined.”
Paul laughed. “I believe you can discover a way to help others while still meeting the proper rules of society. I’m certain the Ladies’ League would be pleased to add your name to their membership roster and assign you a myriad of duties upon your return to Rochester.”
Victoria took a sip of her lemonade. “But that is neither here nor there at this moment. I’m curious about Quincy’s discussion with my husband. If it is financial aid he is seeking, I doubt Quincy will meet with much success.”
“I have prayed your husband will look upon the plight of these people with sympathy and be anxious to share his resources,” Paul said.
“You obviously have much to learn about my father, Paul.” Amanda pointed her fan at Sophie and the group of young men. “Shall we join the others in their croquet game?”
He had gained Mr. Broadmoor’s permission to bid Fanny good-bye, yet Michael knew his time with her would be brief. Along with Paul Medford and Messrs. Jonas and Quincy Broadmoor, Michael would board the Monday morning train to Rochester. Following his employer’s instructions, Michael arrived on the veranda at precisely six-thirty. Mrs. Broadmoor escorted Fanny outdoors to meet him for their final farewell.
The older woman bade him good morning and then strolled to the far end of the veranda, where she could keep watch over them. Michael had hoped for a few minutes alone, but Mr. Broadmoor obviously wanted to ensure the opposite.
Fanny grasped his rough hands between her own. “I wasn’t told until last evening that you were leaving this morning. I’ve been awake all night.”
Dark circles rimmed her deep brown eyes. Her sorrow reflected his own, though he forced himself to smile. “I slept little myself. Please don’t be sad, Fanny. I know this is what I am supposed to do. Your uncle’s agreement to loan me the money for my necessary supplies is truly a blessing. If all goes well, I’ll still have time to get to the Yukon before winter sets in. Then I can work all winter and spring and return before summer’s end next year. You’ll have had little time to miss me.”
“I already miss you, Michael. I’ve missed you since the moment you made your decision to leave.” She squeezed his hand. “You must remember that even though my uncle will force me to accept these silly invitations and attend social functions, my heart and my thoughts are only for you.”
“And mine are only for you and our future together. You’ll write to me once I’ve sent word, won’t you?”
“You know I will.”
Her lips quivered, and pushing aside all thoughts of propriety, he pulled her into an embrace. “Please don’t be sad, my love. One day soon we’ll be able to build a wonderful future together. I promise you.”
She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. “And if you don’t strike gold? What then, Michael? Will you give me your word you won’t let that stand in the way of our future together? I must know that when you return, we will be married— even if it requires disobeying my uncle’s wishes.”
He looked up and saw Mrs. Broadmoor’s disapproving signal. He released his hold and nodded. “You have my word. Rich or poor, upon my return we will be married if you haven’t changed your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind, Michael. I would marry you this minute if only my uncle would agree. By the time you return, I shall be old enough to marry without his permission.”
A loose strand of hair flew into her eyes in the early morning breeze, and Michael’s heart ached with the thought of leaving her behind. Now that they had declared their love for each other, it seemed unfair to be parted, yet this was the only way. “You must keep me constantly in your prayers, dear Fanny, and I will do the same.” Before Mrs. Broadmoor could object, he pulled her into his arms and softly kissed her lips. “I love you with all my heart, and I shall return to you at the earliest opportunity.”
Mrs. Broadmoor’s heels clicked on the veranda as she hurried toward them. “Michael! Your behavior is completely inappropriate.” She grasped Fanny’s arm. “As is yours, young lady. What would your uncle say if he walked out here and saw the two of you embracing?” She creased her forehead in an angry frown. “He would be outraged. And not merely at the two of you. I would receive my comeuppance for failing to chaperone properly.”
“Don’t be overly harsh, Aunt Victoria. Surely you can understand our feelings. You were young and in love at one time, weren’t you?”
With a faraway look, she said, “I was once young, Fanny. Now come along. I hear your uncle. We’ll walk down to the dock and you may wave good-bye.”
Jonas rubbed his forehead and contemplated the happenings of the last few days. None of it good. He’d angered Quincy with a refusal to assist the latest batch of homeless victims with a monetary contribution. After returning to Rochester, he had lined Michael’s pockets with sufficient funds for his travel and supplies. He had bade him farewell and offered hollow wishes for success. Until last evening, Jonas suspected the young man couldn’t possibly meet with success. Now he wasn’t so certain.
After spending several hours at his gentlemen’s club and hearing reports of the vast amount of gold already brought out of the Yukon, his concerns had begun to mount. Like many others, Jonas had read newspaper accounts and listened to what he considered exaggerated stories, but now those reports had been verified. At an early morning meeting with his banker, William Snodgrass, Jonas had heard more of the same: “Biggest strike ever to be discovered—gold just lying around for the taking.”
He thought he’d sent Michael off on a fool’s errand, but now it seemed he was the one who would be made the fool. In all likelihood the young man would return in short order with a burgeoning bank account and firm plans to wed Fanny. Although Vincent Fillmore had delivered the will, Jonas had not yet developed a plan to secure Fanny’s signature. He massaged his temples as the pain behind his eyes continued to mount. Never before had he experienced such difficulty in formulating a plan. And never before had the stakes been so high. There was little doubt Fanny would continue to balk at any talk of marriage. Disinheritance seemed the only avenue he’d not thoroughly explored.
Jonas removed a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and wrote Fanny’s name and birth date across the top of the page. Along with her parents’ names, he listed every detail of her life—at least all of those he could recall. None of it was of any assistance. He shoved the paper into his desk and removed a packet of headache powders.
Without a defined plan to secure Fanny’s fortune, returning to the island and a weekend of polo matches, balls, and firework displays caused the unbearable throbbing in his head to worsen. He poured a glass of water. He would think of something—he always did.
22
Saturday, August 21, 1897
Broadmoor Island
Mr. Atwell stood on the pier and welcomed the family members and guests as they stepped aboard the DaisyBee. Daniel had attempted to position himself near Fanny, but she had immediately surrounded herself with Louisa’s children. The sight of the baby in her arms had obviously been enough to stave off his advances, for he’d stepped to the other side of the launch. She’d not yet decided how she would keep him at bay once they arrived at their destination. There was little doubt her uncle would be keeping a close watch on her. Once he discovered Sanger in the company of another woman, she would likely be expected to answer difficult questions.
“Any ideas yet?” Sophie inched forward and whispered into Fanny’s ear.
She shook her head. “No, but I’m certain something will come to me once we arrive.”
Sophie giggled. “If it doesn’t, you can be sure Daniel will step in to act as your escort. He’s been watching your every move even more closely than Uncle Jonas has.”
Their approach to Wellesley Island was slowed by the numerous vessels arriving for the day’s festivities, but once they docked and dise
mbarked, Sophie grasped Fanny’s hand. “Come along and stay close to me. I spotted Sanger and Georgie. I’ll see if we can join them. That way, Uncle Jonas may not notice you’re actually unaccompanied.” She glanced over her shoulder and motioned to Amanda, who hastened to come alongside them. “Has your father paired you with a beau for the day?”
“In his concern over Fanny’s escort, he didn’t worry over me,” Amanda told them. “Several of those fellows he brings with him each weekend asked to accompany me, but I declined. For the life of me, I cannot understand why it is considered such a necessity to have an escort to all social functions.”
“Because we’re supposed to be looking for a husband.” Sophie chuckled. “Just look at the three of us. I’m having far too much fun to settle upon one man; Fanny doesn’t want anyone but Michael; and you, dear Amanda, would rather care for the needy than find the proper husband. We certainly don’t fit into the mold of proper young ladies.”
Sophie waved and called out to Sanger and Georgie. “Sophie! That’s most unladylike,” Amanda chided.
“I care little, so long as I gain Sanger’s attention. If we stay close to the Pullmans throughout the afternoon, your father won’t realize Fanny is without an escort. At least that’s my hope.”
The ladies paraded across the grounds, anxious to flaunt their fashionable gowns and parasols. Though the gowns they would wear to this evening’s ball would be more elaborate, wearing lovely dresses, hats, and parasols to the polo matches had become a ritual not to be outdone by any other. While the men admired the horseflesh that had been transported to the island by barges earlier in the day, the women assessed the gowns worn by their social counterparts.
When the first half of the match ended, the spectators flooded onto the field in a sea of dark suits and beautifully colored gowns and parasols for the stomping of the divots, which was the only enjoyable portion of the polo match as far as Fanny and her cousins were concerned. In her venture onto the field, Fanny didn’t consider Sanger’s whereabouts. She had stomped several clumps of dirt into the ground when she suddenly came face-to-face with her uncle.
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