Amanda glanced back and forth between her cousins. “Fanny wants me to keep Daniel out of her hair; now I’m to keep Paul out of yours. And here I stand with not one man interested in me or my hair.” She sighed. “Come along, Cousins. I’ll do my best.”
Paul’s mother smiled and reached out to pat his hand. “I know you are worried about her, but sometimes you have to let matters go.”
“She’s going to get hurt,” he replied.
“That is a great possibility.”
He met his mother’s sympathetic expression. “I shouldn’t care, but I do. Sophie may seem hard and indifferent, but she’s hurting.”
His mother nodded. “I know, and you are very sensitive to that wound.”
“I see the way her father acts around her. He’s hurting, too. Losing his wife caused him great grief. Unfortunately, in dealing with it, he’s pushed away all his loved ones and focused instead on the Home for the Friendless.”
“It’s sometimes easier to expend your energy on strangers. You don’t come to expect anything from them like you do family. When family disappoints you, it cuts deep. Your Mr. Broadmoor is no doubt afraid of his feelings—even those he has for his daughter.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Paul said, staring across the room at the blur of dancing couples. “I only hope it doesn’t result in causing him even more pain. Sophie is strong willed and daring. There’s no telling what she’ll do in order to get the love and attention she’s so desperate to have. I just feel that in her father’s absence, I should do what I can to keep bad things from happening to her.”
Mother shook her head. “You cannot keep those you care about from pain. Sometimes it’s necessary in order to mature. Sophie may well have to face some bitter trials before she fully understands what life is all about.” She squeezed his hand. “You will most likely face them, as well.”
4
Monday, November 1, 1897
Rochester, New York
Jonas shrugged into his topcoat and removed his hat from the walnut hall tree in the corner of his office. He silently chided himself, for he disliked being late. He’d be hard-pressed to make it to the men’s club on time today, though he doubted his lawyer, Mortimer Fillmore, would mind the delay. He would likely imbibe a glass or two of port while he waited. Another reason Jonas must hurry! The old lawyer couldn’t seem to stop with only one glass. After two or three, he couldn’t follow the conversation, and after four, he fell asleep. The behavior was argument enough for Jonas to retain another lawyer, but there was no one he trusted like Mortimer.
Unfortunately, Mortimer’s son and law partner, Vincent, held to a higher ethical code than his father. Jonas and Mortimer thought alike—they were cut from the same cloth, so to speak. Both were willing to use any means to achieve personal financial gain. As long as the proposition ended with a hefty increase in their bank accounts, Jonas and Mortimer cared not a whit if others met with monetary ruination. It was, after all, the American way. Each man could be king in his own way if he was willing to take chances and defeat those who would see him cast under. All great fortunes had been made that way, and Jonas could see no reason to alter a course that hundreds of well-bred men had journeyed before him.
Today Jonas needed Mortimer to be sharp-witted because, following their private lunch, the two would meet with Judge Webster, a situation that worried Jonas. On the ride to the men’s club he did his best to convince himself all would go well. After all, Mortimer understood the import of today’s meeting. The lawyer would not do anything to jeopardize this crucial discussion with the judge. Stepping down from the carriage, Jonas withdrew his pocket watch and snapped open the lid. A full half hour late. The moment he entered the building, he scanned the area for his old friend. It didn’t take long to locate him. He had selected a table in close proximity to the bar rather than one in the formal dining room.
Another man sat at the table with his back toward the entrance. Jonas narrowed his eyes and strained to make out the figure. As he approached the table, he shuddered. William Snodgrass! The banker was engrossed in a heated conversation with Mortimer. Jonas must find some way to get rid of him, for they were already pressed for time.
Though the sight of Snodgrass annoyed him, Jonas determined to speak in a cheerful voice. He would accomplish little with anger. “Mortimer! I apologize for my delay. I see you’ve located someone to help you pass the time while you waited on me.” He extended his arm and shook hands with William. “Good to see you, William. I was detained at the office and now find myself late for my meeting with Mortimer.”
William pointed to a chair. “Sit down and join us. Mortimer tells me your family is off to England.” He jabbed an arthritic finger at Jonas. “I hope they won’t further deplete your bank account. Perhaps you should have gone along to ensure they don’t spend all your money.”
“I plan to join them once I conclude a pressing business matter that holds me in Rochester. In fact, that’s why I scheduled this meeting with Mortimer.”
William rested his arm on the table. “Then I’m glad I joined Mortimer. I imagine I can be of some help, too.” He signaled for a waiter. “Why don’t we order something to eat? I always think better on a full stomach.”
Jonas glanced across the table. Mortimer had obviously had more than two glasses of port, for his eyelids had dropped to half-mast. If Jonas didn’t do something, his lawyer would soon be snoring. Unable to think of any other immediate remedy, Jonas slapped his palm on the table.
The table shook, the glasses rattled, and Mortimer jumped as though he’d been shot. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Mortimer rubbed his forehead, clearly dismayed.
“I was expressing my anger over being late. William would like to join us for lunch, but with my late arrival, we don’t have sufficient time. I do apologize to both of you.” Jonas nudged Mortimer’s knee, hoping the lawyer would take his cue. When he failed to respond, Jonas pushed away from the table. “Come along, Mortimer. We don’t want to be late for our meeting.”
“What? Late?” He looked at the clock and shook his head. “We have plenty of time before we meet with Judge Webster.”
William raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Judge Webster?” He leaned a little closer to Jonas. “Have you gone and gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?”
Glances came from several nearby tables, for William’s “whispered” words were akin to a shout. Jonas glared at Mortimer, who returned a glassy-eyed stare. “No. This is merely a business meeting regarding some, uh, some investments.”
“Right. Investments,” Mortimer repeated. “I think I’d like another glass of port.”
“There will be no more port. We must be on our way.”
William clasped Jonas’s wrist with his bony fingers. “Now, wait a moment, Jonas. As your banker, I believe I can add valuable insight about investments. Why don’t we order lunch, and the three of us can discuss this matter before you meet with the judge. Who, I might add, has very little business sense. I don’t know why you’re meeting with him.”
“Please keep your voice down, William. I don’t want everyone in the club to know my business.”
The old banker grinned. “Afraid they’ll overhear us and attempt to intrude upon your latest venture?”
Jonas tugged at his collar. “One can never be too careful. You know that.”
“Yet you’re willing to include Judge Webster in your scheme. Why not the man who’s been your banker for years?”
“If our venture succeeds, I promise to deposit a portion of the funds in your bank.” Jonas hoped his promise would be enough to hold the banker at bay. Right now Jonas wanted to escape the old man and his prying questions.
William motioned to a waiter. “I still believe we have sufficient time for lunch. And I want to hear more about this new undertaking of yours.”
Jonas was losing patience. How could William possibly know if they had sufficient time to dine? He didn’t even know when they were due to meet with the judge—unless
Mortimer had confided that information, also. “As I said earlier, I’d like nothing more than a quiet lunch. But perhaps later in the week?” Jonas stood and tapped Mortimer on the shoulder.
Snodgrass bobbed his head, causing several tufts of white hair to dance in a slow-motion waltz. “I suggest Wednesday. And I’ll expect a full report about this new investment opportunity and what the judge has to say.”
Jonas touched his index finger to his pursed lips. “Not so loud, William. I will meet you here at the club on Wednesday. Shall we say one o’clock?” He knew any attempt to depart without setting a time and date would be futile. If need be, Jonas could have his clerk cancel the appointment.
Separating Mortimer from his chair proved nearly as difficult as his own attempt to escape William. Jonas finally braced his hand beneath Mortimer’s arm and hoisted him out of the chair. He hoped a dose of brisk autumn air would prove enough to clear Mortimer’s mind. The carriage driver approached, but Jonas waved him on. “We’ll walk. Please follow. In the event we need you, I’ll wave you forward.”
“I’d rather ride, Jonas. I’m somewhat weary.”
“You’ve had too much to drink. The walk and fresh air will do you good. You need to regain your senses or this meeting with the judge will be for naught. Now breathe deeply.” Jonas held tightly to Mortimer’s arm and led him down the street. “And the next time we have a meeting, do not indulge in alcoholic beverages beforehand. Do I make myself clear?”
Although Jonas had his doubts the lawyer would keep his word, Mortimer mumbled agreement. If Mortimer muddled today’s meeting with the judge, Jonas would have no choice but to discharge him.
“If you hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have had my second glass, or my third, or—”
“Don’t blame your bad habit on me. Right now we need to concentrate on winning over Judge Webster. If I’m to gain his allegiance, he will want assurance his name and position will be protected. Otherwise, I doubt he’ll agree to sign off on the paper work.”
The fresh air appeared to have a restorative effect upon Mortimer. “You let me worry about the judge. We go way back, and I don’t expect any problem from him. As long as you’re willing to line his pockets and keep your lips sealed, he’ll agree to whatever I propose. He’ll make certain you’ll be able to manipulate your niece’s inheritance without interference while the records will give every appearance of legality.” The lawyer stopped midstep and waved at the carriage driver. “And now, if you have no objection, I would prefer to ride the remainder of the distance to Judge Webster’s home.”
Jonas followed Mortimer into the carriage, and the two of them rode in silence. Mortimer appeared thankful for the opportunity to rest, so Jonas dwelled upon how he planned to benefit from Fanny’s inheritance. He’d invest it, of course, and reap himself a fine profit while doing so—and the foolish girl would be none the wiser. The fact that his father had bequeathed a full one-third of his estate to Fanny continued to rankle Jonas, but knowing he would soon gain complete control of her inheritance helped assuage his anger.
Before long, he could make a large investment in George Fulford’s patent medicine business. And along with his previous investment in the company, he would soon be the largest stockholder—next to Fulford himself, of course. If all went according to plan, Jonas would be making a fortune from George Fulford’s Pink Pills for Pale People. Of course he’d not limit himself to Fulford. There were many investment opportunities, some safer than others. But he need not spend his nights worrying over poor investments now that he would have Fanny’s money. Should he make poor investment choices, he would make certain his records were carefully adjusted to show that it was Fanny who suffered the losses.
England
Sophie sighed and stared despondently out the window as they approached Illiff Manor. Despite the grandeur of the limestone manor house, the isolation of the English countryside was far from what Sophie longed for.
“Is it not glorious, girls? Just as I told you?” Amanda’s mother questioned. She pressed a gloved hand to her throat. “It is too wondrous for words. We have beautiful estates in America, but there is something captured here in the ancientness of England that speaks to my soul.”
“It is charming, Mother.”
Sophie frowned. “And ancient.”
Fanny tried without luck to suppress a giggle. Victoria seemed not to notice. “The house dates back to the fourteenth or fifteenth century, I can never remember which. It has been in the family for all those generations. There are over eighty rooms and some four hundred acres upon which you’ll find terraced gardens, streams, ponds, and wonderful trails for riding.”
Sophie sighed louder than she’d meant to. The very sound of such drudgery only served to make her tired.
Her aunt lifted the brim of her hat and studied Sophie. “Whatever is the matter, dear? Are you not feeling well?”
Sophie rested her chin in her palm. “I do wish we would have gone directly to London. Why must we spend time out here in the country, where there is absolutely nothing to occupy our time? We didn’t come to England to sit in a garden with our needlework. If Lady Illiff were truly interested in entertaining us, she should have offered her London town house.” The carriage came to a stop, but Sophie did not look forward to stepping out, no matter how sore she was after the jostling ride from the train station.
“I truly do not know how to please you, Sophie. Paul’s presence on board the ship caused you to grumble and complain, and now that he and his mother have departed, you remain unhappy.” Aunt Victoria frowned and shook her head. “I hope that will not be the case indefinitely. Lady Illiff is a dear friend. You may console yourself with the knowledge that we won’t be here for long, for she has requested we accompany her to London next week. Lord and Lady Illiff are generously hosting our visit. I trust you will treat them with respect and not embarrass me.”
Before Sophie could utter her response, the driver opened the carriage door. In truth, Aunt Victoria was correct: Sophie should have been thankful Paul had taken his leave and gone to tend his ailing grandmother. Mrs. Medford’s company had proved to be much more pleasing than that of her son, which was quite a compliment considering Sophie had never been one to enjoy associating with older women.
Daniel maneuvered between Fanny and Aunt Victoria as they ascended the steps of the manor house, and Sophie felt a wave of pity for her cousin. The reminder that Fanny would be forced to tolerate Daniel’s unwelcome advances and overbearing manner throughout the remainder of their journey eased her own self-pity for the moment.
“Look at the ivy,” Fanny remarked. “I’d love to know more about it. It looks quite delicate yet so very intricate.”
Sophie looked at the greenery climbing the manor house walls and shook her head. “Who cares about ivy? I can see ivy at home.”
“Yes, but this is English ivy gracing a wealthy English home,” Amanda whispered. “Perhaps it is admired by wealthy Englishmen— single men who are enthralled with ivy only because they have no beautiful women with which to occupy their time.” She smiled and raised a brow as if to suggest Sophie ponder all the possibilities.
Lady Illiff greeted them in the entry hall and bid the servants deliver the baggage to their rooms. “I am delighted you’ve arrived. We’re going to have a wonderful visit, Victoria.” She turned toward Daniel and the girls. “I trust you young people will enjoy yourselves here in the country. Though the gardens aren’t quite as lovely as in the springtime, I still believe you’ll find them to your liking.” She seemed to hardly draw breath.
Sophie thought her reminiscent of a chattering parrot and just as colorful. The woman wore a wide sweeping gown of lavender with shades of blue and green running in a rather disorderly pattern throughout the weave of material. Thick gatherings of yellow and pink lace trimmed the sleeves. It was a riot of color, to be sure.
Lady Illiff turned toward the wide staircase. “I’m certain you’d like to rest before you dress for supper. Th
e servants will show you to your rooms.”
Sophie gazed heavenward. It was just as she’d thought: they’d be relegated to sitting in the garden with their needlework. If she was going to spend her time in England visiting gardens, she’d prefer a stroll along the pathways of Kew Gardens near the River Thames. At least she might encounter an eligible man or two along the way.
Lady Illiff’s personal maid escorted Aunt Victoria to her bedchamber while another servant led Sophie and her cousins to a connecting suite at the end of the hall. The butler had been charged with escorting Daniel to his room. For Fanny’s sake, Sophie hoped his room would be in a different wing of the house. Surely with eighty rooms they could arrange at least a good dozen or more between the two.
However boring, it was evident that Illiff Manor clearly spoke of a wealth and elegance that brought to mind kings and queens. The ceilings were at least thirty feet high. The structure bore intricate plaster work and wood carvings on the banisters, railings, and crown molding, suggesting hundreds of years of labor. Sophie was not blind to the riches displayed for all to see. Nor was she ignorant of the money it would cost to maintain such an estate. She bit her lower lip and tried to remember if the Illiffs had any unmarried sons.
The maid ushered the girls into their room and stood stiffly at the door. “Madam will expect you to dine this evening in formal attire.” She said nothing more before turning to go.
The moment the servant took her leave, Sophie plopped into one of the overstuffed chairs in a most unladylike fashion. The rooms were lovely, with a small balcony overlooking Lady Illiff’s beloved gardens, yet Sophie longed to be in the city. “I hope madam won’t expect us to play a game of charades or whist after the meal.”
“Perhaps if she does, you can pretend to be overcome by the closeness of the room,” Amanda said with a grin. “After all, it worked on the ship.”
“But Paul won’t be available to escort you from the room,” Fannie added.
“Speaking of which, I don’t understand why your mother informed Paul of our traveling plans. I daresay he knows more about where we’ll be traveling than the three of us.” Sophie barely managed to stifle a yawn. Perhaps a brief rest wasn’t such a bad idea.
An Unexpected Love Page 5