A Daughter's Inheritance Read online

  Fanny swooped to one side and warded off Sophie’s maneuver. “Perhaps, but I prefer to use it. And remember, you’re the one who says we should be free to make our own choices. I didn’t attempt to force you to add an insert to your dress, did I?”

  “You’re correct. I’ll permit you to make your own choice, but I truly believe it’s Aunt Victoria’s decision rather than your own,” Sophie replied. “And speaking of Aunt Victoria, where has she secreted Amanda? I haven’t seen her since we came upstairs to prepare for the party.”

  “I imagine she’s in her rooms. I think she wants to surprise us with her dress. Aunt Victoria had it designed especially for the ball. Show me your mask,” Fanny requested.

  Sophie held a half-mask of shimmering gold to her eyes. In an effort to further camouflage the wearer’s identity, filmy lace and feathers had been attached to the edges of the mask. Yet anyone who’d ever met Sophie would identify her behind the mask. With or without a mask, her beauty shone like the sparkling gems in her necklace.

  While Sophie had expressed excitement when Uncle Jonas returned with several of the young men who had visited the previous weekend, Fanny cared little. None of them had captivated her interest, though she was surprised when Sophie pointed out the fact that Frank Colgan wasn’t among the returning men.

  “I thought him rather good looking,” Sophie remarked as they exited the bedroom.

  “Perhaps, but not very bright. If his arms would have provided him with the necessary strength, he’d likely still be in the water hanging on to the canoe.” Fanny looped arms with her cousin, and the two of them descended the stairs.

  The young men had departed for the Oosterman mansion fifteen minutes earlier. Once Michael had delivered them, he would return for the ladies. At Mrs. Oosterman’s request, Aunt Victoria insisted every effort be made to keep the guests’ identities secret until the unmasking at midnight. While Sophie preened in front of the hallway mirror, Fanny stepped onto the upper veranda. A full moon shone overhead, and Fanny strained forward, unsure if the distant lights were stars glistening on the black water or the flickering oil lamps of the DaisyBee. Her heart tripped as she caught sight of the tangerine glow from beneath the boiler and heard the distinct hissing of the engine.

  Not much longer before she would see Michael. He’d been uncharacteristically absent from the boathouse every time she’d gone to see him during the week. Even Mrs. Atwell hadn’t seemed forthcoming when Fanny had inquired about Michael’s whereabouts. She merely shrugged and mumbled that she hadn’t seen him and then excused herself to complete chores somewhere else in the house. It was as if both mother and son were attempting to avoid her, yet she couldn’t imagine why. She could recall nothing she’d done to offend either of them.

  Fanny was still on the veranda when the rest of the Broadmoor women arrived downstairs. With Aunt Victoria taking the lead, they all walked the short distance to the boathouse, where Michael awaited them. One by one he assisted each of the ladies into the boat. Finally it was Fanny’s turn. Seizing the opportunity, she gave his hand a squeeze, but her spirits wilted when he ignored the affectionate gesture. She claimed one of the few remaining seats, all of them located at a distance from Michael. There would be no opportunity to speak to him during the boat ride.

  Aunt Victoria remained in charge of the group, issuing instructions throughout the journey. They were to keep their masks in place at all times, they were to make every attempt to disguise themselves from their dance partners, and they weren’t to withhold their dance cards from any gentleman in deference to another. Her aunt cast a stern look at Sophie when she issued that particular directive. “All female guests are to enter by the side door, and we will gather in the parlor. Mrs. Oosterman has arranged for each of us to be individually escorted into the ballroom.” Aunt Victoria appeared delighted by the idea. “Her method will aid in keeping our identities secret. Each of the male guests will be assigned an identifying number that will be used to sign your dance cards.” Sophie poked Fanny in the side. “Why is Aunt Victoria so anxious to please Mrs. Oosterman?”

  “Uncle Jonas has instructed Aunt Victoria to cultivate a friendship with Mrs. Oosterman. Their wealth supposedly exceeds our family’s fortune. At least that’s what Amanda told me,” Fanny whispered. “Sounds like something Uncle Jonas would say. Money is always at the top of his list.”

  “Money and control,” Sophie murmured. “Did you hear Beatrice upbraid me before we left the house this evening? The minute she spotted Mother’s necklace, she lit into me. Had it not been for Aunt Victoria’s intervention, I believe Beatrice would have ripped it from around my throat.”

  “You should have told her you were wearing it with your father’s permission.”

  Sophie’s even white teeth shone beneath the boat’s lantern light. “Oh, but I’m not. He doesn’t even know I removed it from the safe.” She chuckled as Michael steered the boat alongside the Oosterman’s dock.

  Servants awaited them on the dock, holding brightly lit brass lanterns. The Broadmoor ladies were escorted to the parlor with a formality befitting royalty. Though Fanny considered the decorum overdone in the extreme, Aunt Victoria and Beatrice extolled the pomp and ceremony.

  Sophie nodded toward her sister. “Beatrice is full of herself this evening, isn’t she? Did you see her fawning over Mrs. Oosterman? Who would ever think we were blood sisters? After being around my family, I’m more and more convinced that I must be adopted.”

  Fanny laughed at her cousin’s remark, but before she could respond, Sophie was the next to be whisked away. Fanny was one of the final guests to be escorted into the ballroom. Not that she minded. Less time in the ballroom meant fewer hours tolerating the fanfare and grand gestures that pervaded these gatherings—and less time socializing with the masked male guests. Though the women invested much more time in their costumes and masks, the men were always more difficult to recognize. They all tended to wear their black formal wear, disguise their voices, and wear simple black masks. One or two of the rotund or bald male guests could be easily discerned, but in recent years the men had begun the practice of donning old-fashioned powdered wigs to disguise themselves. Fanny noted most had employed the practice this evening.

  She spied the shimmering golden hue of Sophie’s gown. A group of male guests surrounded her cousin, all of them vying to scribble their assigned numbers on her dance card. Fanny backed toward a narrow cove alongside the doors leading to the wide veranda. If all went well, she could fade into her surroundings and then escape outdoors once the dancing began. Unfortunately, her aunt had stationed herself with a clear view of all the exits while she talked to Uncle Jonas. The two of them ceased their conversation and glanced around the room.

  Her aunt spotted her and signaled Uncle Jonas. Fanny watched in dismay as her uncle grasped a young man by the arm and directed him toward her. She wanted to run, but her limbs wouldn’t budge. She remained paralyzed as the man approached and bade her good evening.

  When she didn’t respond, he grinned. “Is it that you don’t want me to recognize your voice, or has the cat got your tongue?” He grasped her dance card between his thumb and forefinger. “It appears that I’ll have the privilege of being the first to sign your card. Perhaps I should fill every dance with my number. Would that displease you?”

  “I don’t believe that’s permissible.” She stared into his eyes, hoping to gain some clue. “I have no idea who you are. Rendering any further opinion in regard to my displeasure is, therefore, impossible.”

  He signed his number on several lines before returning her card. “Since you appear to desire a man who plays by the rules, I’ll abide by your instruction.” He tipped his head a bit closer. “I’ve signed your card for four dances. I hope you won’t believe me overly presumptuous when I tell you that I secured both the first and last dances of the evening as well as the two that precede the short interludes prior to dining. With any good fortune, perhaps I’ll discover our hostess has seated us side
by side for at least one of the evening’s repasts.”

  “Since you have no idea who I am, you may soon discover you’ve made an ill-conceived decision.” Fanny glanced over the man’s shoulder and noted that her uncle continued to keep her in his line of vision. “Unless someone has already revealed my identity.”

  “Now why would you think such a thing?”

  His words rang false to her, and she knew this must be one of Uncle Jonas’s weekend visitors. It truly didn’t matter which one, for she had no interest in any of these men. “You’d best locate some other dance partners before the music begins. Otherwise you’ll be required to join the old men discussing politics in the den.”

  “Or join you on the veranda for a cup of punch.”

  The man had effectively blocked her into the alcove from which she longed to escape—but escape she must. If not, she’d be forced to spend the entire evening in his company. “I do believe that gentleman on the far side of the room beckoned to you,” she said.

  When he stepped aside in order to gain a better view, Fanny edged free. “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak to someone in private.” Before he could object, she hurried away to the ladies’ parlor for a brief reprieve. How she disliked these parties!

  By Sophie’s standards, the evening had thus far proved a success. She’d been one of the first to make an entrance into the ballroom and the first to be surrounded by a host of men. Just what she preferred. One man in particular intrigued her. Though he’d been among the first to surround her, he hadn’t immediately fought to place his number on her dance card. Not until she’d coyly pressed the card into his hand did he succumb and poise a pencil above the lines.

  She grasped his hand with her lace-gloved fingers. “Not there. Write your name on the line that precedes the supper repast. We’ll have additional time to visit.” With a flick of her hand, her lace fan spread open and she brushed it beneath his chin. “You would like to visit with me, wouldn’t you?”

  He nodded his head. “Until then.”

  His hasty departure surprised her. Unlike the other men, who couldn’t seem to get enough of her, this one seemed distant and aloof. She spotted her uncle Jonas across the room visiting with a circle of friends and excused herself from the gathered men. Though she would have preferred to speak to her father, she’d not yet located him among the crowd.

  She waited while the men completed their boring discussion. She half-listened to their talk of rumors circulating in the English newspapers that Japan would go to war with the United States if the Senate ratified a treaty to annex the Hawaiian Islands. Why did men enjoy discussing war? she wondered. Whether the debate was about Cuba or Japan, they seemed to revel in it. If there wasn’t a current conflict to discuss, they thrashed out the possibilities of all imminent prospects.

  When the men dispersed a short time later, Sophie tapped her uncle Jonas on the arm. Confusion registered in his expression, and she finally said, “It’s me, Sophie.”

  His jaw tightened. “I can see that it’s you. I recognize the jewelry. Does your father know you’re wearing that necklace? That is a family heirloom that belonged to my mother.”

  Sophie ignored the question. “And it was a wedding gift to my mother from Grand-mère. Have you seen my father?”

  “He’s not here. I believe he sent a note to your aunt saying he had urgent business in Rochester. Quite frankly, I believe he simply wanted an excuse to avoid tonight’s party. I can’t imagine any matter of urgency in regard to a homeless shelter.”

  “Perhaps there was a fire and a sudden influx of starving children arrived, Uncle Jonas. Would you consider that an emergency?” She shook her head. “Probably not, for those children wouldn’t be of any use to your financial empire, would they?”

  “You had best withhold your caustic remarks, young lady. If I recall, you hold no greater fondness for that homeless shelter than the rest of the family.” His lips tightened into a frown.

  She offered an apology, but not because she was sorry. She wanted information about that mysterious man, and her father wasn’t available to help. Uncle Jonas was her only remaining choice. “I wonder if you know that young man standing to the left of the double doors leading to the dining hall.”

  Her uncle took a step forward and peered. “No, I don’t believe I do. It’s difficult to be certain at this distance and with these ridiculous wigs and masks, but he’s no one I easily recognize. He’s not one of the men who arrived with me. And I don’t recall seeing him when the men gathered prior to the party. As I said, though, it’s nearly impossible to be sure.” His scowl returned. “Is his behavior boorish? If so, I’ll seek Mr. Oosterman’s assistance and have him thrown out on his ear.” Sophie placed her hand on his arm. “No, nothing like that. In fact, quite the opposite. He was most genteel.”

  Her uncle’s frown disappeared and he offered an affirmative growl. “You let me know if you have trouble with any of these young fellows.”

  Sophie stifled a giggle as she hurried off. Jonas would be aghast to know the number of fellows she’d been able to handle without any assistance over the past several years.

  During the next hour Sophie charmed her dance partners while keeping a lookout for the stranger who had captured her interest. He had remained near the doors until moments ago, when she noticed him seeking out a dance partner. She was surprised to see him circle the floor with Fanny. Perhaps he was a friend of the family.

  She rushed to Fanny’s side the moment the young man escorted her back to the edge of the floor. Sophie’s next dance partner approached, but she waved him away and grasped Fanny’s hand. “Who was that fellow you were dancing with?”

  Fanny shrugged. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much.”

  “Tell me everything he said,” Sophie persisted. “I’m attempting to discover who he is, but even Uncle Jonas doesn’t know.”

  “I fear I’ll be little help. Our exchange was no more than polite conversation regarding weather and the like. Oh, he did mention he had recently moved to Rochester.”

  “You see? You discovered more than you thought. Did he say why or exactly when he moved?”

  “I didn’t inquire, but your dance partner awaits you.”

  “Very well, but if you think of anything else, be certain to inform me after this dance.”

  Sophie couldn’t believe her cousin had shared an entire dance with the dashing young man and hadn’t gained further information. Of course, he’d not been particularly forthcoming when she talked with him, either. Once they were together on the dance floor, she’d discover who he was. She wished the time would pass more quickly and his number would be the next on her card.

  Several of her dance partners remarked upon her detached demeanor, but Sophie offered no apology. They had merely filled the time until this moment arrived. Her partner escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, and she waited for the stranger to approach. Unlike the other men, he didn’t hurry to claim her. She wondered if he had forgotten he had claimed this dance.

  Not until the musicians took up their instruments did he casually stroll along the edge of the dance floor and stop in front of her. He offered his hand. “I believe I have this dance?”

  Sophie offered a comely smile. “The music’s already begun.

  I thought perhaps you’d forgotten.” She had expected him to tell her that he could never forget a dance with someone so lovely. Instead, he silently led her onto the dance floor without apology or compliment. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. While I’ve been able to identify most of the men in this room, you remain a mystery. Have we ever met?”

  He grasped her waist and they joined the dancing couples on the floor. “My dear lady, you’re in disguise, yet you believe I know who you are. You assume too much. Tell me, are you summering in the islands, or have you come here only for this party?”

  “I make my home in Rochester, but my family has summered in the Thousand Islands for many years.” She tipped her head back and gazed into h
is eyes. “Now you must tell me something about yourself.”

  “Why?” he asked, expertly guiding her across the floor between two other couples.

  “Because I told you something about myself. That’s only fair.”

  “Fair? Is that what you expect? Everything in life to be fair?”

  “I do, but generally I’m disappointed,” she admitted.

  “It’s good you’ve come to that realization. There’s little equality this side of heaven. The rich continue to amass wealth while the poor remain hungry.”

  She detected pain in his gentle laugh and wondered if he had experienced the hunger of which he spoke. Surely not, for the people invited to these parties had been reared in wealth. Who was this man?

  “You bewilder me, kind sir. I can place neither your voice nor the dark brooding eyes behind your mask. Yet somewhere deep inside, I believe I know you. Will you give me no hint at all?”

  “Tell me of your dreams, miss. How do you plan to spend the remainder of your life? How will you bring joy to the lives of others?”

  The music stopped; they stood facing one another. She tapped her folded fan lightly against his chest. “Your questions are intriguing. Most men ask how they can make me happy.”

  “Do they? And is that because most men believe you’re unhappy or because they realize you’ll permit their attentions only if they attempt to meet your every expectation?”

  Her jaw dropped at the unexpected question. The two of them remained face-to-face, but Sophie found herself at a loss for words.

  Mr. Oosterman signaled for quiet while his wife stepped forward. The men and women were instructed to form separate lines. Their hostess patiently waited until two distinct rows had been created. She then explained that each man’s number had been written on a small piece of paper, folded, and placed in Mr. Oosterman’s top hat. She stepped in front of the first woman, dipped her veined hand into the top hat, and read a number. The diamonds that decorated her fingers sparkled in the dim lights as she waved the man forward. One by one, each man was randomly assigned to escort the next woman in line to dinner.