An Unexpected Love (15 page)

Fanny leaned into the cushions of the couch and turned the page of the latest fashion magazine she’d purchased in London. At the click of the door, she glanced up to see her aunt entering the room and immediately returned to her reading.

“Fanny Broadmoor, why are you hiding in this cabin? Daniel has been looking for you. I gave him permission to explore the ship with you, but you were nowhere to be found. It is a lovely day, and you need to get out of this cabin and enjoy the fresh air. If nothing else, go and watch the other passengers while they play quoits or shuffleboard. You can cheer them on.”

“I am perfectly content, Aunt Victoria. I don’t want to stroll the decks with Daniel or watch a game of quoits, either.”

Victoria sat down at the end of the couch and removed her hat. “Why not, Fanny? He is a genuinely sweet and kind young man who appears to be smitten with you. And you seem quite amiable together.” Her aunt leaned close. “Daniel would make an excellent match.”

“I have attempted over and over to explain to him that I am not interested in anyone other than Michael. I thought you understood that, yet you continue to speak of Daniel’s many attributes. If you think him a fine match, perhaps you should direct his attentions toward Amanda.”

“That very thought has crossed my mind. However, Daniel has interest in no one but you. I attempted to send him off exploring with Amanda, but he’d have no part of it. Of course, Amanda was unhappy with me, too. She continues to talk about school, and you continue your talk of Michael.”

Fanny detected the note of annoyance in her aunt’s voice. “You sound as though you disapprove of Michael. I thought you held the Atwells in high regard.”

“They are a fine family—not of the same social class but good people. And I have always thought Michael a nice young man. But we are discussing marriage, Fanny. Though I believe a girl should marry for love, she must also seek a man who is a good match.”

“I don’t—”

Victoria wagged her finger. “Do not interrupt. While Michael is a nice man, he would never fit into our family. He doesn’t possess the social graces that are acquired throughout the formative years.”

Fanny burst into laughter. “Oh, like the fine manners George and Jefferson possess or their ability to engage in eloquent conversation?”

Her aunt frowned. “They may not act the part when they are around you or other family members, but they know how to conduct themselves when necessary. They have both the education and social mores to impress any critic.”

Fanny wouldn’t argue the point with her aunt, though she didn’t believe either of her cousins could discuss a business venture if their very lives depended on it. “I believe Michael possesses every characteristic I desire in a husband. I have no interest in Daniel and have made every attempt to discourage his advances. I do not wish to hurt his feelings by giving him false hope.”

“I think you must carefully consider Michael’s circumstances, Fanny. It isn’t my intent to cause you fear or distress, but you must be realistic. Many men have failed to return from the Yukon, and those who do are quick to speak of the dangers. Many who have gone in search of gold are unable to withstand the dire conditions in that frozen territory. And there are those who choose to remain. Never satisfied with the gold in their pocket, they continue to search for more and more. Who is to say if you will ever see Michael again?” Her aunt absently traced a finger along the lace edging of her collar. “Daniel presents a fine opportunity for you, whereas Michael will never be accepted socially, no matter his possible wealth.”

Her aunt simply would not relent. Fanny had listened to these arguments from Daniel as well as other Broadmoor family members since the day Michael had left. They were always quick to point out every tidbit of bad news that flowed from the Yukon. She would never tell them, but she had worried over some of the issues they had steadfastly drawn to her attention. Though she pretended to read the pages of the magazine, her thoughts remained riveted upon Michael and his circumstances. Perhaps that was the reason Uncle Jonas had so readily agreed to Michael’s foray into the Yukon. A shiver coursed down her spine. Did her uncle have some private knowledge that Michael would never return?

9

Monday, November 22, 1897
Rochester, New York

Jonas had completed a hearty noonday meal of fricasseed chicken and buttered noodles at the men’s club before heading off for his final appointment of the day with William Snodgrass. If all went well, he would return home afterwards and relax for the evening. Mortimer’s assistance and insight had proved invaluable during the past weeks. He’d overseen the initial meeting with Judge Webster, and the lawyer’s predictions had proved to be correct. Once the judge had understood their plan, he’d been pleased to become a silent partner in the scheme.

The jurist’s quick agreement had given Jonas pause. He wondered if this was a common practice among the local judges, for all of them appeared to live well beyond their means. Of course, Judge Webster had married a woman of substantial wealth, but rumor had it that the judge’s wife closely guarded the family coffers. Jonas absently wondered if frequent conspiracy was how the judge financed his love of fine horses and his gambling habit.

After a return to his office to complete the requisite paper work, Jonas gathered the documents into his case. The weather was brisk, yet the bank wasn’t far, and the walk would do him good. Once outside, Jonas inhaled deeply, invigorated by the slight sting of cold air as it filtered into his lungs. There was little doubt Victoria would vent her anger at him when she returned, but he’d accomplished much during her absence. He’d never really planned to join her in England, but convincing her to go without promising to meet them abroad would have proved futile. Considering the inroads he’d made over the past month, he was quite willing to endure a few days of Victoria’s wrath. Besides, she’d soon warm to him when he presented her with a diamond bracelet that would rival anything she’d ever seen on the arm of Elizabeth Oosterman or Hattie Pullman.

When he arrived at the bank, one of the clerks escorted him to William’s office. He banged loudly. “I’m sorry to knock so loud, but he has trouble . . .” The clerk pointed to one of his own ears.

Jonas nodded. “Yes, I know.”

The clerk tried again and then opened the door a crack when they received no response from within. The movement of the door obviously captured William’s attention, for he immediately yelled, “Who’s there?”

“Your clerk, Mr. Young, sir. And I’ve brought Mr. Broadmoor. He’s here for his scheduled appointment.”

The old man waved them forward, his liver-spotted hand trembling overhead. “You should have knocked.”

The clerk grinned at Jonas.

“He
did
knock, William!” Jonas shouted. “Where’s your ear trumpet?” The old man appeared befuddled by the inquiry. Jonas grabbed the instrument and handed it to the banker. “You should use this!” he hollered.

William grunted. “I can do without it. Most of the time nobody has anything to say that’s worth listening to anyway.”

Jonas agreed, but today he needed to be certain William understood what he was saying, for he wanted no difficulty with this transaction. The old banker dismissed his clerk and then shuffled through the papers piled atop his desk. “I don’t seem to have anything here with your name on it, Jonas. Was I supposed to have some paper work prepared for you?”

“No.” Jonas pointed to the ear trumpet and waited until William held the bugle-shaped device to his ear. “I scheduled the appointment because I wanted to go over a confidential matter with you. It will soon become public knowledge, but for the present I’d prefer privacy.”

William nodded. “You know you can depend upon me. What is it you need?”

“I’m planning to sell Broadmoor Mansion,” Jonas whispered into the ear trumpet.

The old man’s jaw went slack, and the metal ear horn dropped to his desk with a clang. “How could you, Jonas? That house was your father’s pride and joy.”

Once again Jonas handed William the ear trumpet. “My father’s will called for liquidation of assets as deemed necessary by the executor. I believe it’s for the best, and if the family is upset, I will simply tell them what I’ve told you—except I won’t tell them it was at my discretion. If they believe my father intended for the house to be sold, they’ll say nothing.”

“Wasn’t the will read to the family shortly after his death? Don’t you think they’ll remember whether there was a stipulation to sell the house?”

Jonas shook his head. “There was chaos at the will reading. Besides, the sale affects only Quincy and me. My brother has no more interest in retaining the mansion here in Rochester than I do.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, the sale of the family home affects Fanny, also,” William added. “I believe she will vehemently object.”

“What’s done is done. I am in charge, not Fanny. That fact aside, she hasn’t the wherewithal to maintain the place and can certainly not live there on her own.”

“And what of the servants? Have you made arrangements for them? Your parents always employed a fine staff, and I believe they’d want you to look out for their future.”

Jonas sighed. He’d come to set up a special account and secure the paper work regarding the house sale. Thus far, he’d done nothing but defend himself to the banker. “I don’t think you need worry over the staff members. They will all locate positions without difficulty. I’ll send them off with excellent references.”

William frowned. “I would hope you’d also give them some type of financial reward for their many years of devoted service.”

“Yes, of course. Now if we could discuss the issue of the house sale?” Jonas didn’t wait for a response before he removed the paper work from his leather case and spread the pages across William’s desk. He pushed the contract across the desk to William. “Read this,” he said into the ear trumpet.

After he’d completed his reading, William tapped his finger on the second page. “I assume you want me to set up this account?”

“Yes. That’s why I had you read the contract.”

He rubbed his jaw and glanced over the top of the spectacles perched on his nose. “Why is this sale being handled outside of the court’s oversight? Is that legal? Aren’t you required to list this in the inventory of assets?”

“The legalities are not your concern, William. That’s why I have a lawyer. Mortimer Fillmore is well versed in estate law, and I have every confidence the sale is being handled properly.”

“Don’t you think it would be wise to make certain? Mortimer’s getting up in years, and he’s been known to make a mistake or two in his time.”

Jonas wanted to laugh aloud. William was referring to Mortimer as old, yet they were likely the same age. One couldn’t hear; the other couldn’t stay awake long enough to conduct business. He should replace both of them.

“Mortimer has checked on the legalities and assures me everything is in proper order. If you don’t want to open the account, I suppose I could take my business across the street to First National. I doubt they’d turn away my business.”

His threat had the desired effect. Jonas knew the prospect of transferring the Broadmoor accounts would be enough to motivate William. The banker dropped his ear trumpet onto the pile of papers and curled his lip. “There’s no need to behave like an ill-tempered child, Jonas. I’ll make the arrangements, but if any problem arises regarding this matter, remember that I warned you.”

Jonas leaned back into his chair. With Judge Webster on his side, there was no need to worry. No one would know about the sale until the transaction had been completed.

At Sea

Sophie leaned close against Wesley’s shoulder and enjoyed the tingle that traced down her arm each time she drew near him. “You fret overmuch. No one will even notice that we’ve slipped away for a few minutes.”

Her words didn’t appear to ease Wesley’s concerns, for he immediately glanced over his shoulder. “We may have been wiser to wait until later in the evening.” He nodded toward a small library that was seldom in use—especially during the evening hours. They stepped inside the dimly lit room, and Wesley led her to a leather couch. “Your charm and beauty have cast a spell upon me, dearest Sophie.” He traced his finger along her cheek. “You cannot imagine the depth of despair one feels when hope is lost, but you have renewed my hope and gifted me with the ability to love again.”

Her heartbeat quickened at his words. She’d always found pleasure in flitting from one man to another. But now that she’d met Wesley, she was certain no other man could capture her interest for even a second. Strange how Wesley had mesmerized her. And wonder of wonders, she’d seemingly had the same effect upon him. She reveled in his words of endearment and hoped his feelings for her would remain constant once they arrived in New York.

“It’s obvious you loved your wife very much. I’m honored that I, of all people, have been the one to renew your optimism for the future.” Sophie clasped his hand in her own. “I would enjoy hearing about your wife. What was she like?”