A Daughter's Inheritance Page 12

  Fanny sighed. She wished the women would discuss something other than parties—she didn’t know what, but anything would be more interesting than what they’d been covering. She glanced to her right. “How is Evan faring, Louisa? I haven’t seen him since Wednesday. I hope he hasn’t developed a cold or the croup since the accident.”

  “He’s well,” Louisa whispered.

  Mrs. Oosterman choked on a spoonful of clam chowder. “What’s this about an accident? You never mentioned any accident to me, Victoria. Was someone injured? I didn’t see anything in the newspaper.” She cast a disparaging look at her hostess.

  Aunt Victoria frowned. “A minor incident. It was really nothing, Elizabeth.” A forced smile replaced the frown.

  “Nothing?” Fanny exclaimed. “Evan’s carriage blew off the pier, and he nearly drowned, and you say it was nothing?”

  “Whaaat?” Mrs. Oosterman clasped a hand to her chest. “I heard nothing about this tragedy? How is that possible?”

  Victoria shook her head. “It isn’t a tragedy. The baby is fine. You know the old saying, Elizabeth. ‘All’s well that ends well.’ Louisa preferred the incident to remain quiet. We’d been very successful—until this evening.” The frown returned.

  “Dear me, this is shocking. I trust you discharged the child’s nanny. I daresay, decent help is impossible to find nowadays. Don’t you think?”

  Fanny now realized why there had been no mention of the accident. The family was embarrassed someone might discover Louisa had left her child unaccompanied on the dock. Now the incident would be discussed over luncheons, after-dinner drinks, and dinner parties, with each guest adding an additional twist to the story. Though gossiping about other families was commonplace at the Broadmoor dinner table, being the topic of discussion held little appeal. Fanny hadn’t intended to stir up a hornet’s nest. She would surely receive a rebuke once their guests departed.

  Aunt Victoria made a valiant attempt to change the subject, but Mrs. Oosterman wouldn’t be deterred. She wanted every detail. With her diamond and ruby necklace draped across her dinner plate like a swinging pendulum, the old dowager leaned forward to gain a better view of Louisa. “I know you must be mortified, dear Louisa, but we all make mistakes. This was simply an accident. Personally, I believe it would be beneficial if others knew of what happened. You might prevent another such tragedy if others learn what occurred.”

  “I’ll give your suggestion some thought, but I was hoping for a quiet summer. I came only to spend time with my family.” “And because Grandfather’s will required it,” Jefferson added with a chuckle.

  Mrs. Oosterman perked to attention. “Truly? His will required a summer visit to the island?”

  “Ouch!” Jefferson quickly leaned down and rubbed his shin.

  “Please forgive my son’s rude behavior. He ofttimes forgets indelicate matters are not to be discussed at the dinner table. Teaching him good manners has been a genuine struggle.”

  The spotlight moved away from Fanny and Louisa and now shone on Jefferson and his remark. Anxious for more details, Mrs. Oosterman immediately pardoned Jefferson’s faux pas and pressed on. “Edward and I consider ourselves more than mere summer acquaintances, Victoria. We count you and Jonas among our dearest friends. You’re like family to us.”

  The compliment worked. In hushed tones Aunt Victoria confided in Mrs. Oosterman. The older woman soaked up each detail like a dying plant in need of water. Fanny doubted Mrs. Oosterman’s sincerity and thought Aunt Victoria’s trust badly placed, but she didn’t interfere. In fact, she didn’t utter another word throughout the remainder of the meal.

  Once they’d completed their lemon cream pie, Jonas pushed away from the table and suggested they all gather on the upper veranda, where the men could enjoy a cigar and a glass of port along with a view of the river and the early evening breeze. He didn’t wait for a response before leading the group away from the dining room.

  “What was all the whispering at your end of the table?” Jonas asked Mrs. Oosterman as she walked alongside her host. “Edward and I thought you two women might be plotting a huge party or a shopping excursion in Brockville.”

  “Quite the contrary. Victoria and I were discussing some of the conditions contained in your father’s will.” She tapped a finger along the side of her elaborately styled hair. “That Hamilton always was one step ahead of the rest of us, wasn’t he?”

  Fanny remained in the shadows, listening to her uncle’s response regarding the distribution of the Broadmoor estate.

  “My father didn’t always use the best judgment, I fear, but there’s nothing we can’t live with. We will, of course, abide by Father’s wishes and vacation on the island each summer. Though the time away from Rochester interferes with my work schedule from time to time, I do count it one of life’s pleasures that I can spend time on the island, especially with fine friends such as you.”

  Fanny nearly laughed aloud. She knew Uncle Jonas would have done most anything to avoid coming to Broadmoor Island— anything except forfeit a portion of his inheritance. She thought his false bravado annoying and slowly inched her way toward the far end of the veranda. No one would miss her if she slipped away for a walk. Sophie and Amanda had already returned indoors. If the others came looking for her, they would assume she had joined her cousins. Yes, fresh air and exercise would prove a perfect cure for her unkind thoughts of Uncle Jonas.

  Choosing the well-worn path that led to the special place she’d shared with her father, Fanny inhaled a deep breath. Her perch provided an excellent view of the beauty these islands provided. At every angle the miniature islands offered a resplendent picture of God’s creation, each island as unique as the people who inhabited it. From verdant fields to wooded shores, from rocky promontories to stately groves or dense thickets, the islets peeked out of the tranquil waters and beckoned her to explore.

  She could almost hear her father’s voice, smell his cologne. “You’ve been gone for so long now,” she whispered, “and yet it feels like just yesterday.”

  Glancing at the place where she’d found him, Fanny remembered every detail of that day. He had seemed so peaceful, so content. He had simply gone to sleep. Fanny walked to the place where he’d died and sat down as she had often done in the past. Somehow, sitting here was comforting. She imagined herself on her father’s lap, safe and protected.

  “Papa, why must things change? Why must people die and leave us sad and alone? Grandfather is gone now, and Uncle Jonas will control my life. He has no heart for me—no love of the things and people I adore.”

  The wind blew gently, rustling the brush and grass around her. Fanny closed her eyes and tried to let go of her anxious thoughts.

  Life would be much simpler if Uncle Jonas would agree to her plan and grant permission for her to remain on the island when the rest of the family departed for their respective homes. She loved Sophie and Amanda, but she wouldn’t fit into either of their families. Not that Uncle Quincy would ever make such an offer. He remained far too involved with his good works to provide a proper home for Sophie, much less for his orphaned niece.

  She tucked her knees beneath her chin and opened her eyes to watch the sun descend in a glowing display of blazing pink, mottled with hues of orange and lavender. Much too soon the setting sun was swallowed into the distant horizon, and she longed for the ability to request another performance.

  “Another beautiful sunset in the glorious Thousand Islands.”

  She recognized Michael’s voice and twisted around. “Oh yes. Weren’t the pinks especially beautiful this evening? I only wish it could have lasted longer.”

  In four well-placed giant steps, he was beside her. “You need only wait until tomorrow evening for a return appearance. Who knows? You may see an even finer vision in twenty-four hours.” He plopped down and offered a grin. “I’m sorry for being so short with you earlier. I never want to cause you pain.”

  “You weren’t short with me. I was just keenly feel
ing my losses. I came here to feel some sense of peace again.”

  He nodded. “I knew I would find you here. Mother said she was cooking for a dinner party tonight. Did you have the good fortune of being excluded?”

  Compared to the stuffy social set who attended the round of parties each summer, Michael was a breath of fresh air. He was a constant reliable friend who never changed. Perhaps it was because he grew up on this island with his parents’ steady hand in his life; she couldn’t be certain. But Michael was never envious or impressed by the wealth and pomposity that invaded the islands each summer.

  “I wasn’t excluded from the evening meal, but I did manage to sneak away while some of the family gathered on the veranda. I had tired of their party planning and gossip long before I escaped.” She pointed toward a fish that broke the water and then splashed back into the river. “Uncle Jonas was complaining that my grandfather hadn’t distributed his assets in accordance with my uncle’s wishes.”

  “It was your grandfather’s property. I’d say he could do whatever he wanted with it.”

  “Those are my sentiments, also, but money is the all–important commodity in the Broadmoor family. Uncle Jonas wants the power that he thinks money gives him; Uncle Quincy wants his share in order to perform good works for others, although he consistently forgets his own daughters need his time and attention; many of the others simply want the things the money will buy and the social status they are afforded by virtue of wealth. I dislike their superficial nature.”

  “Don’t become disheartened. You may be overreacting to some of the things they say and do.”

  Fanny gave him a sidelong glance. “You may be correct. It is truly a gift to know I will always have a roof over my head and a warm meal when I’m hungry. Granted, it may not be the exact roof I want or the food I desire, but wealth does offer a certain security and comfort.”

  “But our genuine comfort and security should come from the Lord and not from our earthly possessions, don’t you think?”

  “You’re absolutely correct; it’s the things that money cannot buy that I love the most.” She spread her arms. “This island and the river, for instance. God’s creation abounds out here, yet no one in my family can see it. They view this island as an obligation they must endure. How can that be possible?”

  “They’ve never taken time to consider this island a privilege to be savored and enjoyed. Consequently they don’t see what you do, Fanny. Perhaps they never will.” He stood and offered her his hand. “It’s getting dark. I’ll walk you back to the house.”

  She enjoyed the warmth of Michael’s hand and wished he hadn’t withdrawn it once she’d stepped down from the rocks.

  “Have you mentioned our earlier conversation to your mother and father?”

  His dark eyes shone in the waning light. “About remaining here on the island?”

  “Yes. Have they indicated if they would be willing to have me move to the island? I know they may find it difficult to approach Uncle Jonas, but I could pave the way once I know if they’d be willing to speak with him.”

  Michael pulled a leaf from a tree branch and folded it between his fingers. “I’m sorry, Fanny. I haven’t spoken to either of them just yet. I thought it might be best to wait until everyone is more settled.” He flipped the leaf to the ground. “It’s always hectic during the first few weeks, what with the new routines, added people, and the like.”

  She was thankful for the evening shadows. Otherwise, he’d surely detect her disappointment. “I understand. Whenever you think best,” she said, feigning her best lighthearted tone. “And if they refuse, please tell them I will understand. I don’t want my request to cause them discomfort.”

  “I don’t know what their reaction will be, but I believe they’ll agree unless your uncle Jonas opposes the idea. In that case I doubt they’d be willing to offer much argument.” He directed her away from the path. “This is a shorter route back to the house.”

  Fanny wasn’t interested in locating a shorter direction. If she had her way, she’d remain in Michael’s company awhile longer.

  But what could she say? Please don’t take me back to the house? I prefer to spend my time with you? She couldn’t possibly behave in such a forward manner. Michael had already gone against protocol by coming here to be alone with her. Two or three years earlier it wouldn’t have mattered, but now that she was considered a young woman of marriageable age, the rules were different. And so she followed along, the thick grass folding beneath her feet in a soft, silent cushion.

  Once they were alone on the veranda, Jonas and Mr. Oosterman settled in chairs overlooking the vast lawn. For well over a half hour, Jonas had attempted to steer their conversation toward financial investments. Each time he thought he’d neared success, Mr. Oosterman changed directions. Jonas hoped to learn a few tips from the wealthy investor, tips that might rescue him from the mistakes he’d already made. However, Mr. Oosterman was more interested in discussing his latest flare-up of gout, an ongoing medical problem that caused him severe pain from time to time.

  “The doctor keeps telling me that if I’ll give up rich food and alcohol, I’ll see great improvement. Now I ask you, Jonas, what good is having money if I can’t enjoy a fine meal followed by a good glass of port?”

  “I suppose you must evaluate the options and decide for yourself. Are the food and drink important enough to you to make enduring the possible pain worth it?” Jonas shifted in his chair. “Much like deciding upon the proper investment, don’t you think?”

  “How so?”

  “If you’re willing to endure a loss, you take greater risks with your investments. Isn’t that how you’ve managed to increase your fortune? By taking risks?”

  Mr. Oosterman’s barrel chest heaved up and down in time with his laughter. “I pay other people to make those decisions for me. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve never enjoyed devising plans for multiplying my money. It takes away from the time I have to spend it.” Once again, his chest heaved up and down.

  Jonas sighed. Either Mr. Oosterman was telling the truth or he played his cards close to his vest. Jonas couldn’t decide which. One thing had become obvious: Edward wasn’t going to give away any secrets this evening.

  Mr. Oosterman reached for the bottle of port sitting on the nearby table and poured himself another glass. Jonas stared across the landscape and then narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t quite make out the faces of the man and woman who were approaching the house. Then a shaft of light danced off her hair and he recognized Fanny, but that wasn’t Jefferson or George walking with her. He strained to the side; then he recognized the man. Michael! Those two were spending far too much time together. Even with the added duties he’d assigned the young man and Fanny’s social obligations this evening, the two of them had made time to wander off together. Unacceptable! He would speak to Michael.

  Though he had hoped to return to Rochester immediately following Sunday dinner, Jonas knew that the Sunday evening vesper service would provide another opportunity for Michael and Fanny to enjoy each other’s company. And he did not dare suggest the family miss the service. They’d think he’d turned heathen. The only time they missed the service at Half Moon Bay was when the weather threatened their safety. He would leave first thing Monday morning.

  No one seemed exactly certain how the services had first begun, but Jonas surmised they’d been started years ago when religious camps and revivals operated on the islands. Though the camps had lost popularity, they still maintained a presence on some of the larger islands.

  And the boat services had never lost their appeal. Folks would load into their skiffs, canoes, or launches and arrive at the bay each Sunday evening. Preacher Halsted’s pulpit was a permanent fixture perched on a hillock near the water’s edge. The ladies in their Sunday finery and the gentlemen in their summer suits would sit in boats that were anchored close enough so that the occupants could shake hands with one another. Boats would arrive each Sunday evening and fill the
entire bay. Reverend Halsted used a speaking trumpet for important announcements, though he refused to shout his message through the cumbersome horn. Those at a great distance might not hear all of the preacher’s words, but they joined to sing God’s praises on the preacher’s cue.

  If necessary, Jonas could have navigated the launch, but questions would have arisen if he dismissed Michael from the chore. So Jonas had remained. He accompanied the entire family to the launch but shook his head when Fanny attempted to board. “Wait until Louisa is situated with the children.” With practiced ease, he directed Quincy’s daughter and her children to the location near Michael and continued directing the other family members to their seats. Fanny would be sitting between Amanda and his wife. Pleased with the arrangement, he sat down beside his wife and hoped the services would be short this evening. He wanted to speak with Michael upon their return.

  Jonas didn’t notice exactly when Mr. and Mrs. Oosterman arrived, but their boat was soon wedged beside the Broadmoor launch. Mrs. Oosterman waved and smiled; then she pointed to Louisa and nodded.

  Louisa offered a faint smile. “Why is she pointing at me?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, my dear. Just smile and wave,” her aunt instructed.

  There was no time to contemplate Mrs. Oosterman’s behavior, for Reverend Halsted had already raised his speaking trumpet to his lips. “Announcements for the week are as follows: Eliza Preston will entertain all young ladies between the ages of fourteen and twenty at her parents’ cottage on Tuesday for an afternoon of Bible study, followed by tea and a nature walk.”

  The preacher continued to read the remainder of the week’s activities before turning the speaking trumpet in the direction of the Broadmoor launch. “I am told that we’ve had nothing short of a miracle occur already this summer. The infant grandson of Quincy Broadmoor was snatched from the very depths of the river and brought back to life by our own Michael Atwell.”