A Daughter's Inheritance (10 page)

“I think the celebration is a perfect excuse for purchasing a new dress. You merely dislike going for fittings, so you’re willing to wear your old dresses. Grand-mère would be most unhappy with you,” Amanda said. “She didn’t approve of appearing at a public function in the same gown.”

“No one remembers what I wore last year. You wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t told you. I do wish your father would let us attend some of the other celebrations in town after the parade. I don’t know why the family always insists upon immediately returning to East Avenue. I hear the celebration at Brown Square is great fun. Sophie said some of her friends are going there. She plans to sneak off and join them. I wish we could, too.”

“We’d be found out for certain. Sophie doesn’t have to worry about getting into trouble because Uncle Quincy seldom knows where she is. Sometimes I don’t think he even cares. On the other hand, my mother and father won’t let me out of their sight for a moment. There should be some sort of balance, don’t you think?”

Fanny agreed. She would love just a taste of the freedom Sophie enjoyed. Not that she wanted to run amok and stay out late, but she would like to see some of the things Sophie had mentioned—like all of the girls removing their stockings and dipping their feet in the wading pool that Sophie referred to as the mud pit. Hearing the German musicians play their accordions and seeing them dressed in their lederhosen while celebrating the independence of the United States would be great fun. Sophie had enthusiastically told Fanny of the beer drinking, singing, and laughter that continued until well after midnight. Perhaps she and Amanda could steal away for just a little while during the early evening hours. Then again, she knew they wouldn’t be brave enough to do anything so daring.

Aunt Victoria stood at the foot of the staircase, wearing a pale green corded silk dress with a square yoke of white chiffon. White ospreys and pale green ribbons adorned the fancy straw hat—a perfect match for her gown. “Come along, girls. We’re going to be late for church. The carriage is waiting.” She stopped midstep and inspected Fanny’s dress. “Isn’t that last year’s frock? I thought you told me you had a dress for today’s festivities.”

Fanny shrugged. “It’s perfectly fine. No one will know I wore it last year.”

Her aunt frowned. “
I
knew. The dress is out of fashion. I don’t want people thinking your Uncle Jonas isn’t treating you well.”

“If you hear any of the local gossips prattling, you may send them my way and I will set things aright.”

Aunt Victoria tapped her index finger on her chin. “Amanda has another new gown. Perhaps we have time for you to change.” She glanced at the grandfather clock.

“Mother! You can’t give away my new gown.” Amanda folded her arms across her chest. “Besides, it wouldn’t fit. Fanny is shorter, and the dress would drag on the ground.”

Her aunt waved them toward the door. “I suppose there’s nothing to do then but hold our heads up and pretend that all is well.”

“All
is
well, Aunt Victoria. We need not pretend,” Fanny replied as she looped arms with her aunt and proceeded down the front steps. “Will Sophie and Uncle Quincy be meeting us?”

“I invited them, but Quincy didn’t respond to my note. That man is in a world of his own. And who knows where Sophie will be. Certainly not her father. You girls keep an eye out for Sophie at church this morning. If you see her, tell her she’s expected at the family festivities this evening. Uncle Jonas has arranged for a spectacular fireworks display.”

“That’s what he said last year,” Amanda commented.

Her mother held her finger to her lips. “Shh. It wasn’t your father’s fault that the fireworks didn’t arrive. There was some mistake in the order or some such thing, but he’s told me the fireworks arrived last week, and he’s arranged for them to be discharged once it turns dark. It’s going to be great fun.”

“They have fireworks and Japanese lanterns and music at Brown Square. And the children play in the wading pool, too,” Fanny said.

Her aunt regarded her with a stern expression. “Very unsanitary, Fanny. And who’s been telling you about the activities at Brown Square?”

“Some of the servants were discussing the festivities,” Amanda replied.

“The servants need to cease their chattering and tend to their duties. They have more than enough to keep them busy, what with preparing food for the picnic and guests this evening.”

“And packing our belongings to depart for the island. I can hardly wait. I do wish I could go with the servants on Tuesday.” Fanny sighed.

Her uncle assisted the three women into the carriage. “I thought you ladies were never going to join me. At this rate we’re going to be late for church, and you know how I dislike making an entrance. Where are Jefferson and George?”

“Don’t fret, dear. They departed earlier and said they’d meet us at church.”

“Likely story. Those boys are going to be the death of me.”

While the coach traversed the short distance to the church, Uncle Jonas continued muttering to his wife about the behavior of his two youngest sons. If Jefferson and George weren’t at church, there was little doubt they would incur their father’s wrath.

Fanny thought that would be a delightful turn of events, considering the whitewash episode two weeks earlier.

“Uncle Jonas certainly seems pleased with himself,” Fanny murmured as she scooted closer to Amanda on the garden settee.

A burst of silver shot up overhead and sprayed out against the black skies. The little children clapped and cheered while the adults oohed and ahhed. The fireworks had truly been amazing, and now as the evening’s festivities were nearly over, Fanny was sorry for it all to end.

“Everything has gone off as scheduled,” Amanda replied. He’s always pleased when he has charge of everything.” She leaned back and sighed. “It has been a very pleasant day, to be sure.”

“I agree. I prefer celebrating the Fourth at the island, but this was quite grand,” Fanny admitted. “I ate too much, however.”

“It’s hard not to when there are so many delightful delicacies to choose from.”

“Especially the iced creams. Goodness, but I had to sample a bit of each one,” Fanny said rather shamefully.

Amanda laughed. “As did I.”

A yelp from Jefferson caused everyone to take note. One of the lit fireworks had fallen over, and when it erupted, it sent sparks into the few remaining fireworks near Jefferson’s feet. It was only a moment before everything was firing off at once and flames were burning up the paper wrappings.

“Grab a bucket of water,” Amanda ordered Fanny, “and follow me.”

There were many well-placed buckets around the gathering, and everyone raced for them at once. They knew that keeping the fire under control was critical, and plenty of water had been made available for just such a purpose.

Jefferson grabbed a bucket offered by his mother and put out the bulk of the flames right away. George followed suit, dousing much of the remaining fire, while their father, too, cast a bucket of water.

Amanda came up behind Jefferson, who already had another bucket in hand. She motioned to Fanny and pointed at George. Grinning, she nodded and Fanny immediately figured out her game.

Without warning, the girls tossed the water, drenching George and Jefferson. The young men gave such loud cries of protest that Victoria immediately worried they were injured.

“Have you been burned?” she called out.

Jefferson turned to face his sister. Water dripped down the side of his face. “Not burned, but nearly drowned.”

“I’m so sorry, brother dear. I was attempting to cast water onto the flames,” Amanda said innocently.

“Yes, we were just trying to be helpful,” Fanny agreed.

“Of course,” George said, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “Just like we’re going to be helpful in return.”

“Boys, get inside and change those clothes before you catch your death,” Victoria instructed. Fanny thought she detected a hint of a smile on her aunt’s lips. “Girls, I suggest you avoid trying to help with the fire next time.”

Amanda and Fanny grinned. “But of course, Mother,” Amanda replied as she looped her arm with Fanny’s. “At least until our aim improves.”

“I’d say your aim was just fine,” her mother said with a wink.

6

Monday, July 5, 1897
Broadmoor Island

Even though there were many duties that required Michael Atwell’s attention, the hours couldn’t pass quickly enough for him. He would work day and night to complete the necessary tasks if it would hasten Fanny’s arrival at the island. While most of the island staff dreaded the return of the Broadmoor family, Michael counted the minutes until their return—at least until Fanny arrived. The influx of the family meant added work for all of the staff, but Michael knew he would find ample time to spend with Fanny.

From her early years, Fanny had been different from the rest of the Broadmoor family. She hadn’t cared that Michael was the son of the hired help or that his status could never match that of the Broadmoors. She had taken to Michael and then to his parents, treating them as though they were family and exhibiting a fondness for Frank and Maggie Atwell that amazed Michael.

“There you are!” Michael’s mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “There’s no time for daydreaming. The family will be arriving this week and there’s much to be done. Come in and help me rearrange some of this furniture.” Michael strode toward her, his mass of wavy brown hair tucked beneath his cap. “And take off that cap when you cross the threshold, young man.”

He grinned and doffed the flat-billed cap. “I’m twenty-one years old, Ma. I know to remove my hat when coming indoors.”

“Then why is it I find you sitting at my table drinking coffee with your cap atop your head from time to time?” She didn’t wait for his answer. He knew she didn’t expect one. His mother was more concerned with all the work that must be accomplished in a short time.

Though Michael and his parents remained on the island year-round, the remaining servants who would care for the needs of the Broadmoor family would arrive either a day in advance or with the members of the family. The servants’ quarters would easily accommodate the twenty staff members, but for Michael, the added staff created an air of discomfort. Even as a child, he’d considered the separate servants’ quarters to be his home. And now that he was older and in charge of the Broadmoor vessels, he’d developed a sense of ownership over the boathouse, along with the skiffs, canoes, and steam launch housed within its confines.

The granite and wood-framed servants’ quarters didn’t begin to compare with the six-story, fifty-room stone castle where the family resided during their visits, but Michael possessed no feelings of ownership for the castle. Unlike the servants’ quarters, he found Broadmoor Castle cold and uninviting—overindulgent, like most of those who would inhabit the rooms throughout the summer months. Like Mr. Broadmoor, the castle loomed large. A huge flag bearing the family coat of arms flew from the castle’s turret and could be distinguished among the islands that had become known to tourists and locals alike as the Thousand Islands. In truth, the copious islands varied in size and shape and numbered far more than a thousand. So numerous were the land masses that began at the river’s mouth and continued downriver for nearly fifty miles, even the locals couldn’t always be counted upon to distinguish the international boundary line between New York State and Ontario, Canada.

While most of the servants, including his mother, spent long hours in the castle, the bulk of his father’s time was committed to the grounds and the separate stone edifice that housed the coal-fired, steam-powered electric generator. An addition to Broadmoor Island that allowed for even greater elegance, the generator fully electrified both the castle and the servants’ quarters, something not many in the islands could boast. But the permanent residents of the area hadn’t failed to note that most were beginning to follow Mr. Broadmoor’s lead to electrify. Likely anxious to keep both their image of wealth intact and their complaining wives happy, Michael suspected. It seemed it was either one or the other that caused these wealthy island owners to continue in their attempts to outdo their peers. If one purchased a larger launch or hired additional servants, others followed suit by the summer’s end.

He’d found only Fanny to be different from the rest. Though she dressed in the same fine clothes and attended the required parties and social gatherings of the elite, she much preferred donning a pair of ill-fitting trousers, tucking her hair beneath an old cap, and fishing for hours in one of the boats. His blood raced as he contemplated seeing her once again.

“Michael!” His mother’s voice echoed in the vast room. “Quit your daydreaming and help me move this divan. We don’t have time to lollygag. There are supplies that need to be brought over from Clayton once we finish with this furniture.” Michael would be glad to escape the confines of the island and pick up supplies. Though he routinely visited Clayton, the flourishing village situated on the New York shoreline, he’d been relegated to the island for the past week, helping with the myriad preparations. The thought of taking the launch to Clayton was enough to keep him following his mother’s directions at a steady pace for the remainder of the morning.