A Daughter's Inheritance (6 page)

“You’re letting a good catch get away, dear Fanny. Mr. Snodgrass is quite wealthy. All the widowed dowagers would love to get their claws into him. Didn’t you see the evil looks Widow Martin cast in your direction while you were dancing with him?” Jefferson folded his arms across his broad chest and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Without further thought, Fanny stomped on his foot. He yelped and danced about, though Fanny knew she’d not hurt him in the least. He’d probably felt no more than a slight thump. Jefferson continued to hop about until his mother walked toward them with a solemn look on her face. Fanny wasn’t certain whether she or Jefferson would be upbraided for their unseemly behavior.

“All of the family needs to go to the parlor immediately.” That said, Jefferson’s mother continued to seek out their other relatives.

Amanda grasped Fanny’s hand. “What do you suppose this is all about?”

Jefferson fell in behind them. Soon Sophie caught up with the trio, clearly annoyed. “Why have we been summoned to the parlor?”

“None of us know,” Fanny replied. “I doubt we’ll be detained for long.” “I hope not. I promised John Milleson he could accompany me home.”

Jefferson exhaled a low whistle. “Does your father know about John?”

“My father wouldn’t care even if he did know, so you can’t use that bit of information against me, Jefferson.” She chucked him beneath the chin as though he were a little boy rather than a young man four years her senior.

Jonas Broadmoor stood in the center of the room, watching as each of the family members filed into the parlor. When they’d all assembled, he nodded for one of the servants to close the pocket doors. “I received word from one of the servants at Broadmoor mansion that my father died a short time ago.”

Grandfather dead?
It was Fanny’s last thought before she fainted.

4

Friday, June 18, 1897

The day dawned bright and warm, a glorious summer day that Grandfather would have enjoyed. Fanny could easily picture him sitting on the balcony outside his bedroom on a day such as this. But Grandfather wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony this day or any other. Instead, he would be buried in the huge family plot next to Grand-mère in Mount Hope Cemetery.

Relatives had been arriving at the mansion—crawling out of the woodwork, as Grandfather used to say. There had been no reason to inquire as to the length of their stay: the reading of the will would take place three days hence. None would depart until hearing the terms of Grandfather’s will—not even the most distant relative. Once the mansion had been filled to capacity, additional relatives had been sent to Uncle Jonas’s home and then to Uncle Quincy’s. A rare few had opted to stay at a hotel once they reached Quincy’s abode, for he had sold his mansion shortly after Aunt Marie’s death and purchased a small house in a less affluent section of Rochester.

All of this had been done against Sophie’s strenuous objections, but Uncle Quincy refused to hear her protests. Shortly thereafter he poured all the profits gained from the sale of the family home into his fledgling charity. While Grandfather and Jonas shook their heads and warned against such a disproportionate contribution, Uncle Quincy chided them for their selfish nature.

Fanny didn’t know about Uncle Jonas, but she certainly didn’t consider her Grandfather tightfisted. He regularly contributed to the church and charitable organizations. He’d even given a tidy sum to Uncle Quincy’s Home for the Friendless. But after Quincy had gone off on a tangent, which was the term Grandfather used when he referred to her uncle’s behavior, all gifts to the charity had ceased. Grandfather had thought it would bring Uncle Quincy to his senses, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Instead of kowtowing to his father, Quincy had disposed of his other assets and contributed much of the money to his charity. Only the small house remained. Until now. With Grandfather’s death, both of her uncles would inherit a vast sum of money. At least that was the assumption of most family members. Still, the majority held out hope that they, too, would be remembered in the will.

Sophie, Amanda, and Fanny sat side by side at the funeral service. At first Aunt Victoria had opposed the arrangement, but when Uncle Quincy stated he had no objection, her aunt conceded. Sitting through the funeral service would be difficult enough for Fanny, but sitting by herself would prove unbearable. Her cousins would provide the added strength she needed to make it through this day.

Too soon Fanny’s future would be decided by someone other than her grandfather—but by whom? If only she had reached her age of majority prior to his death. Then she wouldn’t need to concern herself with worries over a guardian. She suspected Uncle Jonas would be appointed, but what if Grandfather had decided upon some lawyer or banker? Someone like Mr. Snodgrass? She shivered at the thought. Surely Grandfather wouldn’t do such a thing.

A half hour before the service, the church had already filled to capacity. Fanny didn’t realize her grandfather knew so many people. It appeared as if all of Rochester had turned out to honor him. Once the preacher began to speak, Fanny plugged her ears. Not in the literal sense, of course, but she quit listening. If she listened, she would cry, and she considered her grief a private matter.

“Fanny? Fanny, are you all right?” Amanda asked. She gave Fanny’s shoulder a bit of a shake.

Fanny realized Amanda had been speaking to her. The funeral was over and people were already filing out. She straightened and squared her shoulders. “I’m fine. So sorry to give you worry.”

Sophie and Amanda exchanged a look before each one took hold of Fanny. Fanny thought it strange that they should fuss over her so, but ever since she’d fainted the night of Grandfather’s death, her cousins treated her as though she might break apart should any further bad news come her way.

“I thought it was a very nice service,” Amanda began. She moved the trio out to follow the others.

“It was quite nice,” Sophie agreed. “Grandfather would have loved the kind words said about his business capabilities and the importance of the Broadmoor family to the community.”

Fanny nodded. She didn’t have the heart to explain how she’d kept herself from hearing a single word of the eulogy. In her mind she remembered the last time she’d seen Grandfather alive. She was to have told him all about the party. But of course that would never happen now.

She couldn’t help but wonder how this event would alter the family. Jonas would now be the head of the Broadmoor clan. As eldest brother he would no doubt be the one who would decide her fate. She supposed it didn’t matter, but she’d never been all that close to the man. He had opposed the idea of her living with her grandparents, believing it would have been better for her to have been sent away to live with distant relatives who were closer to the ages of her deceased parents. Grandfather had refused the idea, however, and Fanny had blessed his name ever since.

But he’s gone
, she thought.
Who will protect me now? Who will
encourage me and show me such tenderness?

“Well, I hope this puts an end to our miserable summer routine,” Beatrice said rather haughtily. “If I have to spend one more summer listening to Lydia criticize our family, I might very well take to violent behavior.”

Louisa, Sophie’s oldest sister, nodded. “I hate that woman.

Just because she married into the Broadmoor family doesn’t make her a true Broadmoor.”

“I know. There is certainly no love lost between the cousins, as far as I’m concerned.” She looked up, as if seeing Fanny and the girls for the first time. “Well, I suppose there are exceptions.”

“I should say so,” Amanda replied coolly. “It would probably behoove you to stick to talking about what you know, rather than speaking in generalities.” She pushed Fanny away from the two women.

“You two are really quite the pair,” Sophie threw out. “If you’ve no love for this family, then be gone and have nothing more to do with it, but leave the rest of us alone.”

“No one cares about this family—at least not in the way Grand-mère had hoped,” Louisa said.

Fanny stopped and turned to face Sophie’s sisters. “Perhaps that is because no one tried to care. Everyone seems so caught up in their own troubles and issues, they’ve forgotten the blessing of family. You all have one another now, but I have no one.”

“That isn’t true, Fanny,” Amanda said, hugging her close. “You will always have Sophie and me. We are your sisters in every way.”

“Better sisters than my own are to me,” Sophie said, coming to stand in support of Fanny. “Of that you can be sure.”

Fanny was touched by her cousins’ support. Their words reminded her of what Michael had told her so many years ago when her father had died. He’d remained a dear friend, and yet Fanny knew that their time was no doubt coming to an end. He was four years older and surely had begun looking for a wife. No woman in her right mind would understand her husband slipping off to go fishing with his employer’s daughter.

Sometimes promises simply could not be kept forever. The thought saddened her more than she could express.

The three days after the funeral had been the longest of Fanny’s life. She’d been surrounded by people, but except for the short periods of time when Sophie and Amanda had come by the mansion, she had felt completely alone. Soon it would all be over and the expectant relatives would return to their homes. She’d come to think of them as vultures, each one waiting to prey upon Grandfather’s estate. Where had they been when he was alive? Most of them had been invisible, except on those occasions when they had wanted something.

The extended family was looked down upon by the immediate relatives, who knew they stood to gain much from Grandfather’s passing. The three Broadmoor sons—Jonas, Quincy, and Langley— had always been the foundation for Hamilton Broadmoor’s estate. That didn’t keep second and third cousins from showing up to see how they might benefit, however.

Fanny had been appalled to actually find a collection of women she barely knew rummaging through the house, declaring which pieces they intended to ask for.

“I don’t understand why we have to be here,” Fanny said to her cousins. They sat on either side of her and waited, along with the rest of the family, for the reading of Grandfather’s will.

“I don’t, either,” Amanda said, looking around. “I suppose it’s some formality, but Father said that everyone was to be present.”

“They just want to pick apart Grandfather’s possessions and get what they can for themselves,” Fanny said sadly. “They were never here for him or for anyone else. They hate one another and treat one another abominably. The only reason they came to the island each summer was to get what they could.”

Sophie squeezed her hand. “Ignore them. They are undeserving of your concern. Grandfather was no fool.”

“It’s true,” Amanda whispered. “He didn’t brook nonsense, and there’s nothing to suggest he will now.”

“But he’s dead. He has no say over anything anymore.” Fanny fought back her tears. She couldn’t help but wonder if this loss would signal the final demise of family as she knew it.

“If I know Grandfather,” Sophie said, leaning close enough for them both to hear, “he will control this family long after he’s in the ground. You mark my words.”

“Is everyone present?” Mortimer Fillmore stood in the center of the library and looked around the room. Extra chairs had been carried into the room to provide seating for the family.

Uncle Jonas nodded. “I believe everyone was notified of the time and place for the reading. You may begin.”

Fanny stared at the lawyer and decided he was probably close to the same age as old Mr. Snodgrass. She tentatively lifted her hand.

“This isn’t a classroom, Fanny,” Jonas said. “You need not raise your hand before speaking.”

“Where is Grandfather’s lawyer? Shouldn’t he be reading the will?”

Mr. Fillmore’s complexion paled. She hadn’t meant to offend the man, but Mr. Rosenblume had been her grandfather’s lawyer for many years. It seemed only proper that a member of the Rosenblume Law Office would be present today.

Her uncle frowned. “Since I am to be executor of the will, I have requested that my personal attorney handle the estate.”

Fanny ignored the other relatives, who had by now begun to fidget in their chairs. “Did Grandfather inform you of your selection as executor before he died?”

“Yes, Fanny, he did. Now if you have no further questions, I believe the rest of us would like to proceed.”

A hum of agreement filled the room. If she asked anything else, the shoestring relatives would likely toss her out on her ear. All eyes were fixed on the old lawyer. He walked to Grandfather’s desk and sat down before he unsealed the thick, cream-colored envelope. He pressed the pages with his palm and faced the relatives one final time before he began. In a clear, crisp voice that belied his age, Mr. Fillmore first read a brief note to the family.

“I do not want or expect my family to mourn my death. I am at peace with my heavenly Father, and I do not desire any family members to drape their houses with black bunting and wreaths or to wear the mourning clothes dictated by society. Those we love should be honored and loved while alive. Few of you honored or loved me while I was alive, and I don’t want the pretense of mourning now that I’m dead. You’ve all gathered to divide my money—not because you held me in high esteem; of that much I am certain. I have, however, placed a stipulation upon specific family members who will receive a portion of my estate. It is my specific direction—”