A Daughter's Inheritance (7 page)

Mr. Fillmore coughed, cleared his throat, and poured a few inches of water from the glass pitcher. They waited with bated breath while he consumed the liquid.

“See, I told you. Grandfather was no fool,” Sophie said, elbowing Fanny.

Fanny scooted forward on her chair, eager to hear her grandfather’s stipulation. The money wasn’t important. She expected her uncles to divide the lion’s share of Grandfather’s estate, while a few specific gifts would be distributed among close friends, loyal staff, and favorite charities.

“All of my family members who were expected to spend their summers on Broadmoor Island in the past shall continue to do so until the summer following Frances Jane Broadmoor’s eighteenth birthday.”

Angry stares were immediately directed at Fanny, and she slouched low in her chair.

Mr. Fillmore drummed his fingers across the wooden desk. “Please! If I may have your attention?” Thankfully, the relatives turned to face the lawyer.

“The usual exceptions will be allowed for illness, including childbirth. Once recovered, however, I will expect that person to rejoin the rest of the family. There is also the work provision for the men. They may come and go as needed but will spend at least a portion of the summer in residence on the Broadmoor Island. In their absence, their families will remain on the island.”

The announcement was followed by several loud sighs. Uncle Jonas could be counted among those who thought the edict repugnant. “Let me see that.” He walked around the desk and grabbed the letter from Mr. Fillmore’s hand. “I should have known he’d find some way to torture us,” he muttered, tossing the letter back across the desk.

Sophie giggled. “I told you Grandfather would continue to control this family.”

“It is rather amusing,” Amanda agreed, leaning across Fanny. “I’ve never seen my father turn that shade before. This most assuredly is a kick in the knickers for him.”

Sophie’s sister Beatrice waved her handkerchief toward Mr. Fillmore. “Does this mean that if we don’t go to Broadmoor Island, we won’t receive our inheritance?”

Amanda’s eldest brother, Grayson, jumped up from his chair. “Exactly what makes you think
you’re
going to receive an inheritance, Beatrice?”

“I’m merely inquiring how it’s supposed to work, Grayson. You need not become defensive. I don’t know any more about Grandfather’s will than the rest of you do.” She folded her

arms across her chest and tightened her downcast lips into an angry frown.

“Beatrice plays the innocent, but I know from overhearing her that she’s already making plans to add on to her house with her share of the inheritance,” Sophie said, leaning closer to her cousins.

“But why should any of us expect that kind of thing?” Fanny whispered. “There are sons to receive their father’s wealth. It seems pretentious that the grandchildren and distant relatives should expect something, as well.”

“I think it’s nonsense to have the island imposed upon us,” someone behind Fanny muttered. Several other voices rose in agreement.

The reading wasn’t going at all as Fanny had expected. The relatives continued to fire angry barbs while Mr. Fillmore rested his chin in his palm and stared across the desk. At this rate she wondered if they’d ever hear the remaining portions of Grandfather’s will. Finally Uncle Jonas shouted above the din, and an uncomfortable silence fell across the room.

Mr. Fillmore picked up the letter. “If you’ll remain silent, I’ll continue.” The last paragraph of Grandfather’s letter explained that he intended for the family to continue the summer tradition of gathering at Broadmoor Island until Fanny’s eighteenth birthday, where annual monetary distributions would be disbursed, a custom that had begun after Fanny’s birth.

Grand-mère had wanted Fanny to spend time with her relatives each summer. In order to accomplish that feat, she convinced her husband to distribute an annual bonus from company profits each summer, but only to those who came to the island with their families. Fanny hadn’t been privy to that bit of family information until two summers ago, when Jean, her cousin William’s wife, had told her. In retrospect Fanny realized Jean had been angry and blamed Fanny that they must spend their summers on the island. Jean had wanted to go to the New Jersey coast with her own family, but William insisted she come to Broadmoor Island instead. She had been willing to forgo the bonus, but William wouldn’t hear of it. Although Jean later apologized, Fanny remained uncomfortable in her presence, especially on Broadmoor Island.

Jonas gasped at Mr. Fillmore’s revelation. “My father’s
entire
estate will be divided into summer distributions? For how long?”

Mr. Fillmore shook his head. “Please, Jonas. If you would permit me to read the will, your questions will be answered.”

The lawyer unfolded the document while Jonas dropped into a chair alongside the desk and waited. In a monotone voice, Mr. Fillmore read her grandfather’s dying wishes. As Fanny anticipated, her grandfather had made a number of small bequests. Mr. Fillmore continued:

“Other than the specific bequests, my entire estate shall be divided among my three sons, Jonas, Quincy, and Langley, as set forth below.”

Mortimer continued to read the details necessary to obtain the distribution. Fanny could see that Uncle Jonas was not at all pleased. He had hoped, as had most, that the requirements would be abolished with the death of the family patriarch. And although seventy percent of the estate would be distributed as soon as possible to the beneficiaries, their remaining thirty percent would be received in yearly allotments—at Broadmoor Island—a plan they’d not anticipated. It appeared even Uncle Quincy wished it might have been otherwise.

When the chatter ceased, Mr. Fillmore read the next stipulation.

“My granddaughter Frances Jane Broadmoor shall be entitled to receive my son Langley Broadmoor’s one-third share in its entirety.”

“What?” Jonas jumped to his feet and sent his chair crashing to the floor. “Whatever was my father thinking? How could he possibly have done such a thing?” Fanny’s uncle turned his full attention upon her. “She’s not even an adult!” He directed his rage at Mr. Fillmore, but his anger was meant for Fanny. Anger that he’d be required to share his father’s fortune—anger that she’d ever been born.

“There’s more, Jonas. Please!” Mr. Fillmore pointed to the overturned chair.

“In the event my granddaughter Frances has not reached her age of majority at the time of my death, I hereby appoint my son Jonas Broadmoor to act as her guardian and trustee. Once Frances has reached her majority, she may elect to maintain Jonas as her advisor or select another person of her choosing.”

Fanny gulped a deep breath.
Not Uncle Jonas
. She had figured as much but wished it could be otherwise. She knew Grandfather would choose his eldest son to handle any and all unpleasant details—herself included. Admittedly her uncle was a better choice than someone such as old Mr. Snodgrass, but Fanny would have preferred Uncle Quincy or even Grandfather’s lawyer, Mr. Rosenblume. Uncle Jonas had never respected her father, especially not after he’d taken his own life. Fanny had heard more than one tirade about Langley Broadmoor’s lack of spirit, strength, and admirable qualities. In fact, Jonas barely acknowledged Fanny in the aftermath of his brother’s death. He’d wanted to send her away—remove her from sight. And now he would be in charge. He’d be a wretched substitute for her father and grandparents.

When Mr. Fillmore concluded, he carefully refolded the pages and looked up. He scanned the room. “Any questions?”

Shouted inquiries rang from every corner of the room and the many spaces in between. Mr. Fillmore waved the folded document overhead until the relatives quieted. “I’m unable to hear your questions with all of you talking at once. All necessary paper work will be filed with the court. I will contact you by letter, advising each beneficiary when you may expect payment. Unless you have questions beyond what I’ve told you, please feel free to depart.”

Fanny turned to Amanda and then to Sophie. It suddenly began to dawn on her that they, too, might be offended at the provision Grandfather had made for her.

“I don’t know what to say.” She shook her head. “Please tell me that you don’t hate me like the others do.”

“Of course not, silly,” Amanda declared.

“No. I was rather pleased. Now I have a wealthy cousin who will come of age in March and then treat us all to a very wonderful party.”

“Sophie!” Amanda rebuked in a stilted tone. She glanced around her. “Don’t speak in such a way here. Most of the family is fit to be tied. Your sister Beatrice looks as though she’d like to wring Fanny’s neck.”

Fanny met Beatrice’s hateful stare and felt her strength wither.

“Oh, I have a feeling Grandfather has managed to put me in a very difficult situation.”

“Don’t worry about Bea,” Sophie said, offering her sister a smirk. “She complains the loudest, but she has no backbone.

I can deal with her.”

One by one family members got to their feet. The grumbling continued even as chairs scraped across the oak floors that surrounded the imported Turkish carpet her grandfather had always thought quite lovely. Fanny thought it rather ugly, but she’d never told him. And since it had been placed in Grandfather’s library, she was certain Grand-mère also considered it unattractive. Otherwise she would have placed it in the center of the grand entry hall for visitors to admire. Today, however, the rug seemed different, not nearly as ugly as the character exhibited by the Broadmoor relatives.

While many of the family members scattered from the room, Uncle Jonas and Mr. Fillmore turned their backs. With their heads close together, they spoke in hushed tones.

“We might as well leave,” Amanda said, getting to her feet.

“You two go ahead without me. I need to ask some questions,” Fanny replied.

Amanda nodded. “Very well. We’ll wait for you upstairs.”

Fanny’s mind whirled with the uncertainty of concerns that seemed to have no answers. The death of Grandfather had turned her entire world upside down. She wasn’t even certain where she would live now. When the shuffles and murmurs ceased and the room was once again quiet, Uncle Jonas lifted his head.

His jowls sagged when he caught sight of her. “What is it you want, Fanny?”

“I have questions.”

“
You?
Why, you’re not even of legal age, Fanny. What questions could you possibly have that are important enough to detain Mr. Fillmore? I’m your guardian now, and I can see to any matter necessary.”

Either her uncle’s tone of voice or an interest in Fanny’s questions brought several members of the immediate family scurrying back into the library like mice after a morsel of cheese. They folded their arms across their chests or sat on the edges of their chairs, their eyes shining with anticipation.

Fanny drew in a deep breath. “I’m wondering about my personal living arrangements. Not immediately, of course, for I realize the family will soon depart for the Thousand Islands. But afterward. With my schooling complete . . .”

“I don’t know that I consider your schooling complete. There is college to consider. And I believe my father planned for you to begin your grand tour of Europe after summering at the islands. It is much too soon to make such determinations. Once decisions are completed regarding your future, you’ll be advised.”

An auburn curl escaped from her hairpins and curved alongside her cheek. “But I don’t want to go on a grand tour. Grandfather said he would reconsider my wishes later this summer.”

“She’s an ungrateful orphan who doesn’t deserve a third of the Broadmoor estate,” Beatrice twittered.

Stunned, Fanny remained silent. Soon other family members added their angry opinions. To Fanny’s amazement, most of them sided with Beatrice.

Fanny jumped to her feet and scanned the group, her gaze finally coming to rest upon Beatrice. “You act as though I’ve taken something that belonged to you, when in fact it belonged to none of us. Grandfather’s wealth was his to distribute as he saw fit. I didn’t ask to receive my father’s share of the estate. And from what Mr. Fillmore has told us, there is ample money for distribution. I don’t believe any family member is going to be forced into poverty. I don’t see arguing over money as a way of honoring Grandfather.”

Beatrice pinned her with an icy stare. “We could cease this squabbling, and you could honor Grandfather by giving up your inheritance, Fanny. I don’t see why you think you should be entitled to an entire one-third of the estate.”

Mr. Fillmore waved the bulky envelope containing her grandfather’s will overhead. “People! There is no use arguing over distribution and who gets what. This will is valid, and its terms complete. If one of you attempts to have it set aside, I predict you will meet with utter and resounding failure.” He peered over the glasses perched on the tip of his nose. “In addition, such legal action will delay any partial distributions of the estate— which is not something the majority of the beneficiaries will take lightly.”

A clamor of voices echoed the lawyer’s assessment while several family members glared at Fanny as though everything that had occurred were her fault. She startled when a hand touched her shoulder.

Her Aunt Victoria offered an encouraging smile. “You need to pack a few things, Fanny. You’ll come home with us this evening.”

“But I’ll be fine here until we depart for the island. The servants will be here. There’s truly no reason for me to—”

Uncle Jonas stepped to his wife’s side, his brows knit together in an angry frown. “Must you argue about everything? This day has proved most stressful for the family, and you continue to add to the strife with your incessant questions and lack of cooperation.”

“But I wasn’t attempting to be obstinate. I merely thought it would be less disruptive if I remained here until we all depart for Broadmoor Island.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “If you truly want me to pack and come to your house this evening, I’ll go upstairs and put together the items I’ll need for the night. I can return tomorrow and—”

“Please don’t prattle on like a senile old woman, Fanny. Do as your aunt instructs.” Her uncle turned on his heel and strode across the room toward Mr. Fillmore.