A Daughter's Inheritance (42 page)

“You didn’t know, either, did you?” she asked the older woman once they were seated.

“No. I should have questioned him more, but my husband had changed in the final years of our marriage. He remained kind to me, but I knew the financial losses had been extremely painful to bear. He hid many things from me. Men place their value on being able to provide,” she said with a faint smile. “I am very sorry for what you’ve endured. I have spent the last hour attempting to make sense of why my husband would do such a thing, but I have no answer for you.

“If your relatives desire the proof he spoke of, I will make it available to them. I know my husband was genuinely fond of you, Fanny, as am I. Any woman would be proud to claim you as her daughter.” A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the gown. She stared at the dark splotch. “I’ll send the dress back to you.”

“I’ve no need for the dress, but I would like you to write to me in the future. I will always consider you a dear friend.”

The guests had finally departed, and now only the family remained. But the evening had been insufferable. Jonas had expected their guests to immediately leave after Harold’s death, but he should have known better. With their curiosity piqued, they had stayed, eager to discuss every detail of the night’s ghastly event. Jonas slammed the door to his library and fell into his leather chair. All of his plotting had been for naught. He slammed his fist on his desk and cursed Harold Morrison.

Although most in attendance at tonight’s ball had heard of Harold Morrison’s initial claim of paternity, Jonas had planned to make an announcement during the evening—unbeknownst to his wife, of course. Victoria would never have approved of such a thing, especially during a party. However, Jonas had viewed the ball as the perfect setting. All of the elite would be in attendance for the formal announcement that Fanny was not a Broadmoor. The men would immediately realize what a financial boon this would be for Jonas, and his status would rise among his peers. Now all of that had been ruined by Harold Morrison’s untimely death, and Jonas was once again faced with the dilemma of Fanny’s inheritance.

“Here you are!” Quincy strode into the room.

“Have you heard of knocking before entering a room?” Jonas barked.

“My, but you’re in a foul mood. I realize the evening was marred by Morrison’s death, but I didn’t expect to find you in such bad humor.” Quincy sat down opposite his brother. “That scoundrel Morrison certainly had you fooled. I daresay I’m surprised, Jonas. You’re usually the first one to question the credentials of every one of your business associates, yet this man and his spurious claim slipped by you with surprising ease. How so?”

“What do you mean, how so? If you’ve something on your mind, speak up, Quincy. I’ll not play silly games with you. It’s been a long evening.”

Quincy rested his forearms on his thighs and stared across the desk at his brother. “We all trusted that you’d checked into this man and his claims. None of us inquired—at least I didn’t. For that I blame myself. It never occurred to me that you would be careless.”

Jonas jumped to his feet and rested his palms atop the desk. “Careless? Are you implying that I intentionally accepted this man’s claims without proper investigation?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you’d properly checked in to the matter, we would have known his claim was false and Fanny would have been saved from this horrid experience.” Quincy waved his brother toward his chair. “Sit down, Jonas. I don’t believe you meant harm to the girl. I know you’re a busy man with many obligations to handle. I blame myself as much as you. In the future, however, we’re going to both need to keep a close watch on the girl’s affairs and on those who seek to befriend her.”

Jonas exhaled a long breath. He needed to remain calm. “I appreciate your concern, Quincy. You’re correct. In the future I’ll be keeping a close watch. But there’s no reason for you to concern yourself with Fanny. I am her legal guardian, and I know you have a myriad of duties requiring your attention at the poorhouse.”

“Home for the Friendless, Jonas. It’s not the poorhouse.”

Jonas snorted. “Same thing, different name. Except your Home for the Friendless has the advantage of Broadmoor money paying the expenses.”

“
My
portion of the Broadmoor money. I ask nothing of you, Jonas, and we are digressing from the topic at hand. I believe we must remain vigilant where Fanny is concerned.”

“You may rest assured that I will see to doing exactly what is best,” Jonas said as he ushered his brother to the door.

Jonas returned to the solitude of his library. He couldn’t permit defeat to take hold of him. There must be resolution to this latest dilemma. How could one young girl pose such a problem in his life? He sat in the chair and rested his forehead in his palm, massaging his temples with his fingers and thumb.

Somehow, returning to his earlier plan seemed a form of defeat. But if he was going to succeed in controlling Fanny’s inheritance, he must do so. Like it or not he would resume his original plan to find a husband for the girl—a man who could be easily manipulated. In the meantime he must remain vigilant. The girl had likely become even more independent during her stay with the Morrisons.

33

Monday, October 4, 1897

Jonas had planned to depart for work much earlier in the day. His headache of Saturday night had plagued him throughout the day on Sunday. When the persistent pain continued on Monday morning, he downed his headache powders with a glass of water and returned to bed. Though not completely gone, the pain had subsided, and he’d tired of Victoria popping in and out of the room to check on him every fifteen minutes.

After descending the broad staircase, he picked up the mail that had been stacked on the hallway table and then called for his carriage to be brought around. Jonas riffled through the unusually thick stack but stopped when his fingers came to rest on a letter addressed to Fanny. He tossed the remaining mail onto the table and hurried into his library. His head pounded with a blinding ferocity as he shoved the door closed behind him.

He hurried to his chair and slit open the envelope. He shuffled through the pages until he reached the end, where Michael had neatly written his address. He was in a place called Dyea, Alaska. He returned to the first page of the letter and shook his head as he continued to read the details of Michael’s journey in search of gold. Between the paragraphs that spoke of his undying love for Fanny was an optimism that frightened Jonas. There was, of course, no way to know if the young man’s accounts were puffery or fact. If what he wrote was true, Michael was doing well and held high expectations for his gold mining. He spoke of teaming up with a man who already had a successful claim near Dawson City. The man assured Michael he could make thousands of dollars by the end of next summer.

“Next summer!” How could it be possible? That young man just seemed to be lucky no matter where he went. The thought only furthered Jonas’s frustration. Given Michael Atwell’s seeming good fortune, he’d probably find some incredible supply of ore and make hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“I need to remain calm. After all, I must see Fanny married to a man of my choosing before March, when she turns eighteen. After that it will be too late. The property laws in this state will negate any control I might desire to exert,” he muttered.

He looked at the letter again. Obviously he couldn’t allow Fanny to see it. The last few lines of the letter gave him an idea.

I will soon be bound for Dawson and doubt I will have an opportunity to write again until spring. The mail is difficult to deliver during the winter and questionable at best. So please do not despair if you hear nothing from me until summer.

He smiled. Summer would be too late. Fanny would hear nothing from Michael and believe he had stopped caring about her.

Jonas quickly tucked the letter into his desk drawer and stood. His head throbbed with intensity, but he couldn’t yield to the pain. This letter from Michael strengthened his resolve to move quickly. He simply had to force Fanny into a marriage before the young man’s return.

He shouldn’t have come to the office. He’d accomplished nothing, and the throbbing in his head had grown worse by the minute. Like a possessed man, he paced back and forth in an attempt to find some solution—anything that would gain him access to Fanny’s inheritance. Well, not truly Fanny’s, he told himself. The money rightfully belonged to him. And to Quincy, he begrudgingly admitted. Of course his brother would squander the additional funds on that homeless charity. It would be truly grand if he could come up with an idea to exclude both Fanny and Quincy, but that seemed impossible.

His clerk tapped on the door and entered the office. “I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but Mr. Fillmore is here to see you.”

“Vincent or Mortimer?” he growled.

“Mortimer. He said it was important.”

Jonas waved for the clerk to send Mortimer into his office. Word had traveled quickly. Neither Vincent nor Mortimer had been at the ball on Saturday night, having sent regrets due to a previous engagement, but there was little doubt Mortimer had heard of Harold Morrison’s death.

“Jonas! I got back into the city late last night, and this morning I heard—”

“I’m sure you did. There is such pleasure in being the first to pass along a bit of sensational gossip.”

Mortimer sat down and massaged his swollen knuckles. “You have anything to do with his death, Jonas?”

“Of course not. Morrison was my means to the girl’s inheritance.”

Mortimer grunted. “We’ll need to withdraw our motion requesting Fanny be excluded as a beneficiary under your father’s will. This puts you back where you started, I suppose. What are your plans?”

“I haven’t come up with a solution, but I know I must maintain control of Fanny.”

“Or at least her money,” Mortimer cackled.

“Instead of your gibes, I need a solution.”

“What about those young fellows you had courting her this summer? Any way you could fan the flames of love with an added bonus to one of them?”

Jonas shook his head. “Daniel Irwin stopped by last week. He’s in dire need of financial assistance. I told him I didn’t have anything available. In addition, forcing Fanny to accept his company would likely prove impossible. I’m at a loss.”

Mortimer thumped his cane. “Don’t be foolish! This is easily enough solved. Find some way where she is required to be in Irwin’s company. And tell that young man he had best prove his ability to pour on the charm, for Fanny will not be easily won. I feel certain you’ll be able to convince him with promises of the fortune that awaits him once they are wed.” The lawyer withdrew his pocket watch and pushed himself upright. “I must take my leave, Jonas. I promised my wife a month in Europe, and I’m off to make arrangements.” He pointed his cane at Jonas. “It’s more of a gift to me. A month without listening to her ongoing complaints.”

“That’s it, Mortimer! Europe! I’ll send Fanny, Amanda, and Sophie on a grand tour. Victoria can act as their chaperone.

Father had planned on Fanny taking a tour, so the idea won’t cause undue suspicion. A stroke of genius. Thank you, my friend.”

“Ride along with me and tell me how this is going to solve your problem. I see some deficiencies in the plan.”

Jonas grabbed his hat and accompanied the older man outside. He helped Mortimer into the carriage and sat down opposite him. “You’re likely wondering how I’m going to marry off Fanny if she’s in Europe. Am I right?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to send Daniel Irwin along. Four women traveling without benefit of a male escort wouldn’t be a wise idea. My wife would have far too much difficulty maintaining control over three young women without occasional assistance.” His headache had disappeared. He called to the driver to stop the carriage. “I’m going to go and meet with Daniel this very minute. If he agrees to my plan, I’ll have this matter settled by day’s end.”