A Daughter's Inheritance (26 page)

Jonas perked to attention. “But it would show clear intent that Fanny had planned for the estate to come to me, and you or your father could obtain the services of one of those
friendly
judges. That process might lead to an agreeable outcome.”

Mortimer frowned. “I suppose it could work, but we’ll probably all be dead before the girl—you had best continue working toward arranging a proper marriage partner.”

Jonas nodded slowly. “You’re absolutely correct, Mortimer.”

Mortimer thumped his cane on the floor. “Well, of course I am.”

“Please, Father, Jonas and I need to discuss the idea of a will in further detail. If Fanny should predecease you, do you think your brother or other family members would protest the document and attempt to have the document set aside, based upon Fanny’s tender years?”

Jonas considered the matter for several minutes. He knew there would be a hue and cry if he were to receive the share allocated to Fanny. Most of the family coveted her money as much as he did. Money had set the relatives against each other for years. Jonas found it rather entertaining. “What if the will provides a clause in which Fanny acknowledges her tender years? It could further state that she fully understands the terms, and it is her desire to name me as her sole heir. Perhaps a judge would then be willing to overrule any protests.”

Vincent jumped up from his chair and paced in front of the windows. “Yes, I like that idea. And we could have a clause specifically stating that even though the document has been drawn and signed while in her tender years, she desires for it to remain her final declaration until set aside in writing.”

“Yes! I believe we’re on to something. How soon could you have the document delivered to me?”

Vincent glanced at his father. Mortimer had nodded off. “I want to be certain nothing is overlooked. Would next weekend suffice?”

“Yes, but have it delivered by a courier. With the family here, another visit might give rise to questions.”

“Tell me, Jonas, how will you persuade her to sign the document? If she’s as bright as you indicate, won’t she insist upon reading the contents?”

“I’ll be giving that matter thought. In the interim we need to consider every possible method to have the girl disinherited. Then my father’s bequest to her could be easily set aside. Surely we can think of something.”

Vincent shook his head. “I don’t see how she could possibly be disinherited, Jonas.”

Mortimer jerked to attention. “Nothing’s impossible where money’s involved. Right, Jonas?”

“You are entirely correct, Mortimer.”

Theresa descended the stairs, her feet striking each step with a heavy thud. Since reaching her agreement with Jonas Broadmoor, she had done her utmost to capture Michael’s interest. She’d been to the boathouse more times than she cared to think about, and she’d attempted to use her feminine wiles on each occasion. Although Michael had answered her questions and was cordial during her visits, he always shied away from her advances.

The previous day she’d even attempted to lure him away from his work under the guise of a fishing expedition. After packing what she considered a delightful picnic lunch and securing her mother’s permission to be gone for the afternoon, Theresa had gone to the boathouse filled with anticipation. With Fanny and the other women away for their shopping excursion in Canada, she’d decided the time alone would give her an opportunity to begin her seduction. But Michael had steadfastly refused. His excuses were as numerous as legs on a centipede.

After an hour of cajoling, she’d finally dumped the contents of the picnic basket into the water. Seeing their lunch enter the murky water had been the only thing that had evoked any emotion from the man. He’d been aghast to see the traces of crusty chicken sandwiches floating on the water, but he hadn’t even noticed that he’d wounded her feelings. She’d never faced such difficulty luring a man. His constant refusals were taking their toll on her ego. If she was going to succeed with Michael, she needed help—a desperate thought.

Theresa plodded down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her mother would be going over the day’s schedule with Mrs. At-well and would expect to see her. The voices of the two women drifted into the hallway, and Theresa quickened her step. The older women might offer some insight, especially Michael’s mother.

Entering the kitchen, she forced a bright smile. “Good morning,” she said in her cheeriest voice.

A hint of suspicion immediately shone in her mother’s eyes. “Is that
my
daughter? Cheerful so early in the morning?”

Theresa frowned. “I’m usually cheerful in the morning.”

Her mother laughed, shook her head, and immediately returned to her discussion with Mrs. Atwell. Theresa quietly listened while the two women prepared a lengthy shopping list for the following week.

Mrs. Atwell ran the tip of her pencil down the list and gave an affirmative nod. “I believe we’ve thought of everything. I’ll give Michael our list and send him to Clayton tomorrow morning.”

Theresa stepped closer and reviewed the menus the two ladies had prepared for the following week. “Which one of these meals is Michael’s favorite?”

Mrs. Atwell appeared confused. “None of them. Michael prefers the more common fare I’ve been serving this week while the family’s been in Brockville. Thus far, Mr. Jonas hasn’t voiced an objection,” she said with a grin. “I think Mr. Jonas prefers butter-browned fresh fish and fried potatoes more than the fancy dishes we serve when the missus is in the house.”

“And what about dessert? Does Michael prefer your pies or one of your lovely cakes?”

Mrs. Atwell dipped out a cup of flour and sifted it into a crock. “Why all this interest in what Michael enjoys for his meals? Are you planning on assuming my kitchen duties?” She pointed toward the crock. “If so, you can begin by mixing up the dough for this evening’s dinner rolls.”

Theresa laughed. “I don’t think you want me making the rolls, Mrs. Atwell. They’d likely come out of the oven as flat as pancakes.”

“Then why the interest in what Michael likes to eat?”

Theresa plunged forward. “Well, don’t tell him I said so, but I think your son is most interesting.” She pressed her fingers to her dark tresses. “Although most men tell me I’m quite pretty and seemingly enjoy my company, Michael completely ignores me. I don’t know what I’ve done that has caused him to behave in such a standoffish manner.”

The older woman brushed the flour from her hands. “Michael’s behavior has nothing to do with you or your fine looks, Theresa. Michael has eyes for only one woman. And after all these years, I doubt he’ll be tempted by the sway of your hips or a fashionable hairstyle.”

Theresa’s mother clucked her tongue. “You had better encourage him to keep on looking, Maggie. We both know he’s never going to have that one.”

Mrs. Atwell finished mixing the dough and plopped it onto the wooden worktable. She plunged her fingers into the heavy dough. “What’s a mother to do? He’s a grown man, and he knows she’s out of his reach, but it doesn’t change his feelings.”

Theresa turned and exited through the kitchen door leading to the back lawn. Let the two women argue about Michael. They weren’t going to offer any help to her predicament. She circled the house, her thoughts a jumble of confusion. If she failed Mr. Broadmoor, he’d likely fire her. Worse yet, he might discharge her mother, too.

“Theresa!”

Mr. Broadmoor stood on the upper veranda with his arms folded across his chest. He pointed toward the ground. “Meet me on the lower veranda.”

Theresa sighed. Mr. Broadmoor was going to expect a report on her progress. No doubt he’d find her excuses unacceptable. Perspiration dampened her palms. Theresa swiped her hands down her skirt and prepared to be chastised. She forced a smile as Mr. Broadmoor stepped onto the porch. His white shirt appeared nearly as stiff as the set of his shoulders.

He didn’t waste time with idle chitchat. “How are matters progressing between you and Michael?”

She remained standing, though Mr. Broadmoor had settled into one of the cushioned wicker chairs. “Not as smoothly as I had hoped—though it’s not from my lack of trying,” she hastened to add. The older man remained attentive while she proceeded through the litany of difficulties she’d experienced. She was certain he was unhappy with her. He rubbed his jaw and stared into the distance.

When she could no longer bear the silence, Theresa sat down beside him. “I even spoke to his mother and inquired how I might win his affections.”

Jonas arched his brows. “And?”

“Mrs. Atwell said he had eyes for only one woman, and she didn’t think I’d be successful.”

“Hmm. So even his mother realizes he’s smitten with my niece.” Jonas studied the vessel slowly moving downriver. The steamer whistled two short blasts, and Captain Visegar waved his hat high in the air. The aging captain conducted fifty-mile cruises through the islands twice a day in his
New Island Wanderer
. Visitors came armed with the captain’s brochure that described the different islands, the beautiful mansions, and résumés of the various owners. “I have an idea that Michael won’t be able to refuse.”

Theresa leaned forward, anxious for details. Her excitement mounted as Mr. Broadmoor described the harbor lights cruise that was conducted every Saturday night. “Perhaps you’ve heard some of the family or guests mention it?”

“I haven’t, but it sounds like great fun. However, I doubt Michael would invite me.”

“I’ll take care of that. My wife and I will host all of our guests on the tour this Saturday night. I’ll purchase tickets for you and Michael. I’ll tell him that I mistakenly purchased the incorrect number of tickets and ask that he act as your escort, since this is your first summer on the island and you’ve not been on the tour.”

“What a wonderful plan.”

“Indeed. And I’ll expect you to make good use of your time on the cruise. Make Fanny believe that Michael is romantically interested in you.” He leaned forward in his chair. “May I count on you to do your very best?”

She gave an enthusiastic nod. “Trust me. You won’t be disappointed, Mr. Broadmoor.”

19

Saturday, August 7, 1897

Fanny slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to be included in the searchlight excursion this evening. I truly cannot believe your father purchased tickets and expects all of us to attend.” She rested her chin in her palm. “The entire outing is unlike him. He detests socializing with anyone other than his equals and discourages the rest of us from doing so, too.”

Amanda giggled. “With the entire family and all of our guests, he’s likely assumed there will be no space for any other passengers.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I hope that isn’t true. I want to mingle with some other people—we’ve been with family all week long. I think I’ll send Michael to Castle Rest and have him deliver an invitation to Georgie and Sanger Pullman. They’re always enjoyable company.”

Amanda turned from her dressing table. “You’d best not send out any invitations without Father’s approval.”

Sophie had already retrieved a piece of writing paper from Amanda’s desk and didn’t hesitate while dipping her cousin’s pen into the bottle of ink. “I’m not sending an invitation. I’m merely telling them we’ll be on the steamer and they should join us if they have no other plans for the evening.” The minute she’d completed the note, Sophie jumped up from the writing desk.

“I’ll go with you. I’ve a need of fresh air,” Fanny said.

Sophie playfully grasped her cousin’s arm. “Would you feel the need for fresh air if I wasn’t going to search for Michael Atwell?”

Fanny ignored the question. Sophie already knew the answer. Though they invited Amanda to join them, she declined. The two cousins hastened toward the boathouse, their laughter drifting overhead on the warm afternoon breeze. The clatter of their shoes on the wooden dock surrounding the boathouse eliminated any element of surprise. Michael was watching the door when they entered.

He continued to sand one of the small skiffs. “What can I do for you ladies?”

Sophie held out the envelope. “I was hoping you’d have time to deliver this note to Castle Rest within the hour. Is that possible?”

Michael stroked his palm along the black walnut gunwale of the skiff. “So long as Mr. Broadmoor has no objection.” He stepped closer and retrieved the envelope.

“If Uncle Jonas should ask, I’ll tell him you made the delivery at Sophie’s instruction,” Fanny replied.

He nodded. “Good day then, ladies.” Michael tucked the envelope into his pocket and picked up the sandpaper.

Sophie stared at him when he didn’t budge. “When are you going to depart?”

Michael shrugged. “In a half hour or so. It doesn’t take long to get to Pullman Island.”

She waved toward Michael’s pocket. “That’s a note asking the Pullman brothers to join us for the spotlight tour of the islands this evening. The sooner it’s delivered, the better.”

The sandpaper dropped from Michael’s hand and fluttered to the floor. “You’re going on the cruise, too?”

“What do you mean,
too
? Are you going?” Sophie shot a grin in Fanny’s direction. “As much as you’re around boats, I wouldn’t think you’d be interested in a cruise on someone else’s vessel.”