Until the Dawn (20 page)

“What are we wagering?” Nickolaas asked.

“If your archaeologists find evidence of some mystical significance, I’ll blow up the house according to your plan. If my biologists can prove a scientific explanation, you agree to quit filling Pieter’s head with superstitious drivel. You will instruct him that if he can’t see it or touch it, it doesn’t exist. You will give up this inane plan to destroy the house.”

“It’s a deal.”

Once they shook on the bargain, it didn’t take long to thrash out the details. Nickolaas would contact one of his lawyers in Manhattan to begin hiring qualified experts who could come to the house immediately. It was summer, so most college professors were free to pursue their own interests until classes resumed in September. Everyone would be housed here at Dierenpark. The bodyguards would help fetch and carry and support the research teams in whatever capacity was required. Sophie and Florence would cook.

“The Broeders can provide the teams with a tour of the grounds,” Nickolaas suggested.

Quentin shook his head. “I fired Emil Broeder the first day I arrived. He was—”

“You did
what
?” Nickolaas burst out. His grandfather rarely raised his voice, and Quentin was taken aback.

“There’s no longer a need for a groundskeeper,” Quentin explained. “If you intend to demolish—”

Once again, Nickolaas interrupted him, his voice lashing out like a whip. “Our family has always supported the Broeders. The Broeders have been here since the very beginning, and we are obliged to treat them well. No wonder you’ve been cursed
with a string of bad luck for breaking that commitment. We have an obligation to them.”

“Why?” Quentin asked. His grandfather was full of pointless superstition but rarely able to articulate a lucid explanation for any of his wild-eyed beliefs.

“It doesn’t matter why, Quentin. All that matters is that Emil Broeder be rehired immediately. I don’t care how much we have to pay to lure him back to the house. Get him back.”

The determination in his grandfather’s voice was pure steel. Over the years, Quentin had learned to choose his battles with his grandfather very carefully. His primary goal was to get his team of biologists to win the wager to save Dierenpark and thus protect Pieter from his grandfather’s foolish superstitions. Emil Broeder’s employment status was of little consequence to him. “Fine, whatever you want,” Quentin said. “I’ll get Broeder back, and my attorneys in New York will hire some qualified biologists.”

And he would prove to his grandfather once and for all that there was a legitimate scientific explanation for everything in the world.

11

I
T
HURT
TO
BE
BANISHED
from Dierenpark.

The only truly happy days from Sophie’s childhood had been spent at the estate where her mother had been the cook. After school, Sophie always headed up to Dierenpark, learning to cook at her mother’s side, exploring the grand library, playing with her friend Julia Broeder, or merely wandering the grounds. Sometimes Marten came with her, and together they searched for old Indian arrowheads and ate blackberries straight off the vine. Other times, she came alone and would sit on the granite outcropping that overlooked the river and utter a simple prayer of thanksgiving. It was easier to feel close to God when she was sitting beneath the crystal blue sky and could hear the breeze whispering through miles of verdant green trees. There was peace and abundance at Dierenpark, and she loved it.

But now she was back at the hotel, with little to do other than bring her father endless cups of tea as he pored over the treasure trove of old Vandermark documents he’d salvaged from the bank vault. Almost everything was handwritten in spindly letters, which made for slow going. Most of the records were
boring taxation schedules and shipping contracts that chronicled the gradual accumulation of the Vandermark fortune, but a week after her banishment, he stumbled on something that roused his curiosity.

Sophie was pickling cucumbers with the hotel’s cook when her father came bursting out of the study. “Emil!” he shouted.

“Shhhh! You’ll wake the baby,” Sophie said.

“Where is he?” Jasper asked. She could tell from the excitement in his eyes that he must have discovered something important.

“Emil’s wife is visiting her mother with the twins, so he is babysitting the little one in his room. I think they are both sleeping.”

It was a good thing Emil was back at the hotel. After he’d been fired from Dierenpark, he’d tried to work as a peddler, selling odds and ends to far-flung homesteads, but he always sold his goods for the same price he paid for them. “It would feel like cheating if I asked people for more than what I spent,” he said. She and her father both tried to explain the value of his time in carrying the goods to the homesteads, but Emil said he wasn’t cut out for overcharging people and gave up the trade.

“Go get him,” her father ordered. “He can bring the baby, but the light is poor in his room, and I need to get a good look at him.”

Three minutes later, a bleary-eyed Emil stumbled into the room with the baby in tow. Annie was only two months old, and Sophie eagerly reached for her as Emil passed her over. Sophie loved the weight of the baby as she folded Annie over her shoulder, gently rubbing her back.

Her father asked the cook to leave the kitchen and then closed the door. Emil was confused as her father told him to go stand by the window, but he shrugged and stood beside the window, his sleepy eyes blinking in the sunlight.

“Sophie, you’ve seen the Vandermarks more than anyone
else. Take a good look at Emil’s face. Do you see any family resemblance between them?”

Both she and Emil whirled to gawk at her father. Emil’s simple friendliness was as different from the Vandermarks as a puppy from a panther.

“Well?” her father demanded.

Emil was a broad-shouldered man with blue eyes and blond hair. He looked like a lumberjack, while the Vandermarks were dark and slender.

“I don’t see any resemblance at all,” she said. “Why?”

Her father’s shoulders sagged, but only for a moment. He turned his eyes to Emil. “Are there any stories in your family about being related to the Vandermarks somehow?”

“We work for them,” Emil said, scratching his head. “We’ve always worked for them. Things have been real good except for . . . well, you know . . .”

Getting abruptly fired and kicked out of their home last month. Every time Sophie was tempted to start liking Quentin Vandermark, she reminded herself of that cold fact to shake her back to reality.

“Father, what is this all about?” she asked.

Jasper pivoted and snatched a document from the counter. “This letter was written in 1695 by Caleb’s son, Enoch. Apparently there was tension among the younger generation with the groundskeepers, and Enoch wrote a warning letter to his own son. It says, ‘The Broeder family is to be treated well until the end of time. Any Vandermark who fails to look after the Broeders does so at their peril.’”

What odd language. It reminded her of the ominous, metaphorical talk Nickolaas Vandermark indulged in. She wondered if the old man had ever seen the contents of this safe. He was only fourteen when he fled Dierenpark and might not even know about this trove of documents.

But Nickolaas had always treated the Broeders well. Last spring, Emil’s sister Julia had been expelled from college over a foolish incident with a dog. Nickolaas Vandermark ordered his attorney to intervene on Julia’s behalf to get her reinstated at the school. The Vandermarks paid for Julia’s college education and provided a generous wedding gift when she subsequently married that same attorney a few months later.

“That’s pretty weird,” Emil said with a shrug of his shoulders. “They’ve always been nice to us. They sent Julia to college. I never asked for anything, but their lawyer sent a nice bank note when the twins were born. Maybe they are just nice people.”

Sophie and her father locked gazes. The Vandermarks were
not
particularly nice people. Over the centuries, they’d earned a reputation as ruthless shipping magnates who dominated the world trade of commodities.

“Maybe one of the Broeders saved someone’s life?” she suggested. “There was plenty of trouble with the Indians during those years.”

“Maybe a bear attack,” Emil offered. “Or a snake. It could have been a snake. I’ve seen them at Dierenpark.”

Her father shook his head. “It would have been easier to build a case if there had been a family resemblance. If one of the early Vandermarks fathered an illegitimate child with a Broeder, it could call the entire ownership of Dierenpark into question.”

That
was an angle Sophie had never considered. In 1695, the country would have been governed by English law, and England had never been overly generous with illegitimate children. She said so, but her father was one step ahead of her.

“What if the child wasn’t illegitimate?” he said as excitement gathered momentum in his voice. “What if one of the Vandermarks eloped with a Broeder, and a child resulted? A child that would have a claim to a portion of the estate.”

“Wouldn’t you have already seen a record of that at the county courthouse?”

“Not if they eloped to a distant town, which is likely.”

Sophie patted the back of the baby on her shoulder. Could she be holding a legitimate heir to the Vandermark estate? It seemed incredible, but the Broeders had a long history at Dierenpark, and it was certainly possible for a blue blood to dally with one of the red-blooded servants. Trying to prove something based on a vague reference over two hundred years old would be a staggering task, but it might delay the demolition of the house. If Emil was capable of mounting the charge . . .

She looked at Emil, who was munching an almond cookie while scratching his armpit. She glanced back at her father. “This seems too far-fetched to be able to prove,” she said.

“Have you got any better ideas?” her father demanded, and she flinched at the frustration in his tone. Even the baby sensed it and started to whimper. They were all suffering from strained nerves and a sense of impending doom.

She was glum all afternoon while she finished pickling the cucumbers. Her father accused her of being idealistic, but she had a far better chance of landing a climate observatory in New Holland than he had of proving Emil had a legitimate claim to Dierenpark.

Her worries vanished late in the day when Mr. Gilroy arrived with an astounding message.

“Mr. Nickolaas Vandermark requests the immediate return of Emil Broeder and his family to Dierenpark. He apologizes for the misunderstanding and is willing to offer Mr. Broeder a raise in salary to compensate for this inconvenience.”

Sophie tried to mask the surprise from her voice. “Did he say why?”

“The Vandermarks have always looked after the Broeders,” Mr. Gilroy said. “A simple sense of responsibility for generations of loyal service.”

She recalled the warning from the old document:
Any Vandermark who fails to look after
the Broeders does so at their peril
. It didn’t sound like a sense of responsibility, it sounded like outright fear.

Her amazement was compounded as Mr. Gilroy continued speaking, asking her to return to her duties in the kitchen in order to prepare for a grand wager between Quentin and Nickolaas.

“Two teams of professors are to be hired to research the estate,” Mr. Gilroy said. He outlined the terms of the wager, indicating that if Quentin’s biologists could produce a scientific explanation for the health of Marguerite’s Cove, the house would be spared. Otherwise, Nickolaas retained complete control over Dierenpark and Quentin would proceed with the demolition.

Could it really be true? Hope surged through her as Mr. Gilroy continued speaking.

“A dozen men will be arriving next week,” he said. “We need to begin preparing food in advance of their arrival, and we would be grateful for Emil’s help in preparing the bedrooms. I gather Quentin behaved less than graciously toward you while suffering his latest setback, and he asked me to apologize and invite you back to cook for the household.”