He silently chastised himself. He should have transferred his papers to another lawyer long ago. He’d given consideration to the idea several times. Unfortunately, he’d never found anyone else he could trust like he did Mortimer. The two of them had shared the same ideas about making money: There were no rules as long as there was a profit to be made. He had no way of knowing how much of his business and personal information Mortimer had committed to writing. What if he’d maintained files that told of Jonas’s business dealings? He couldn’t risk anyone discovering such information.
“We must leave immediately and go to your father’s office.” Jonas pushed up from the chair without giving Vincent an opportunity to disagree.
“What’s this?” Victoria entered the room with her coat draping one arm and her hat perched atop her head. “You’re not planning on going somewhere other than the Home for the Friendless, are you?”
Jonas stepped forward. “Mortimer passed on this morning. I believe Vincent needs me to assist him with several matters surrounding his father’s death.”
Victoria hurried to Vincent’s side and murmured her condolences. “Exactly how can Jonas be of help at this moment?”
Jonas couldn’t hear Vincent’s muttered response, but from the hard-edged look in Victoria’s eyes, Jonas knew his wife was unhappy.
“Mortimer died this morning and you want to go and retrieve your business files? Jonas Broadmoor! I can’t believe you would even think of such a thing when Vincent is overcome with grief and mourning the loss of his father.” Victoria patted Vincent’s arm. “Do let me call for tea.”
Vincent shook his head. “No. I really must be on my way. I have much to do.”
Jonas forced a smile. “I’m sorry for my lack of tact, Vincent. However, I think you know your father would approve. He was an astute lawyer who always thought of business first.” He needed to win Vincent over. Once the younger man departed, there would be little opportunity until after the funeral to retrieve his files. With family members sniffing about, any one of them might go through Mortimer’s files. He didn’t want to take that chance. “I can have my driver take us to your father’s office this very minute. It wouldn’t take but a few moments of your time.”
The younger man’s jaw went slack, and he shook his head. “Not now, Jonas. I must see to the funeral arrangements.” Vincent sidestepped around him and strode toward the library door.
“But I truly need those—”
“What you need to do is show some decency and respect,” Victoria hissed. “There is nothing that won’t keep until after Mortimer is buried.” His wife brushed past him and hurried out of the room. “Do keep us advised of the funeral arrangements.”
Jonas dropped into a nearby chair and massaged his forehead. The day had gone from bad to worse by the hour. Could anything else possibly go awry this day? If so, he couldn’t imagine what it would be.
Paul Medford kissed his daughter’s cheek before his wife lifted her from his arms. “Our Elizabeth is the loveliest little girl ever born.”
Sophie tucked the soft flannel blanket around her daughter’s tiny body. “I couldn’t agree more. And she is very fortunate to have you as her papa.”
The words warmed him even more than the hearty breakfast Sophie had served him a short time ago. The fact that Wesley Hedrick had forsaken Sophie and his unborn child had proved to be a blessing for Paul. He daily thanked God for the opportunity to call Sophie his wife and claim Elizabeth as his child.
He pushed away from the kitchen table, and Sophie accompanied him to the door. While he shoved his arms into his warm woolen coat, she retrieved his hat. No doubt this day would be busy, but he’d discovered deep satisfaction in his work at the Home for the Friendless.
He lowered his head and kissed Sophie’s lips. “I’ll be home as early as possible.”
Sophie didn’t reply. Instead, she lifted on tiptoe and kissed him again. They both knew that he’d do his best but likely wouldn’t return until well after dark. The needs at the Home increased daily, especially since the outbreak of cholera. It seemed that anyone having the slightest symptom came to see the doctor. Most simply wanted reassurance they hadn’t contracted the disease. Others had genuine problems: a cut that required stitches or a woman laboring to deliver a newborn. And then there were those looking for a safe place of shelter and a warm meal. Most thought God had no use for them, but Paul knew better. And he did his best to show them God’s love through his actions.
Unless asked, he didn’t offer advice or sermonize to the strangers who came for help. In fact, he could quickly calculate the number of times he’d preached since receiving his divinity degree. Those who found shelter at the Home were encouraged to attend a church of their choosing on Sunday mornings. Residents were sent out the front doors after breakfast and not permitted to return until after twelve-thirty on Sunday afternoon. Whether they actually attended church was between them and God. Sophie’s father, Quincy, thought the residents should be permitted to worship in their own manner. He didn’t want anyone to think they must adhere to specific religious beliefs in order to be welcomed into the Home.
Paul grinned at the thought. People flocked to theirs doors in overwhelming numbers, and he doubted any would depart if forced to attend a church service on the premises. Most would probably prefer such an arrangement. They wouldn’t be required to go outdoors in the cold or rain. But Paul didn’t argue with his father-in-law. Nor did he look for another place to serve the Lord. For now, he believed God wanted him to serve at the Home for the Friendless.
He shoved his hands into his gloves and reached for the doorknob.
“Why don’t you invite Amanda and Dr. Carstead to join us for supper this evening?” Sophie suggested. “I see my dear cousin far too seldom. And I’m certain Elizabeth misses her aunt Amanda, too.”
“I’ll do my best to convince them,” he said. “There are so many patients that need their attention, I’m not—”
“Tell Amanda that I insist. They both need to take a little time for pleasure. And so do you. I’ll expect all three of you no later than six o’clock.”
“You’re right. An evening of visiting and good food is just what the doctor ordered. Even if the doctor doesn’t know it.”
The sound of Sophie’s laughter followed him down the front steps. As a harsh wind assailed him from the north, he tucked his head low. Paul believed the walk to work each morning helped him maintain his good health. However, he would have gladly exchanged his morning exercise for a ride in a warm carriage on this brisk morning.
Though a cutting chill remained, the wind subsided as he rounded the final corner. He squinted against the sun. Not one soul stood waiting for admission to the Home. Ever since the first frightening case of cholera had been detected, the medical office had been swarmed with daily visitors. And after the recent newspaper headlines, he’d expected an even larger crowd. He strode forward but stopped short at the front gate.
Quarantine! He didn’t take time to read the fine print. The one word was enough to explain the absence of the usual morning arrivals.
Paul cupped his hands to his mouth. “Quincy! It’s Paul. Can you hear me? Come to the door.” He waited a moment and then tried again.
With the windows tightly closed and shuttered against the cold, his voice would never be heard. He glanced at the iron bell used to announce that meals were being served. Without a moment’s hesitation, he entered the gate, pulled the worn rope, and waited. The shutters that covered one of the windows in the front of the house opened. Blake! So the doctor had been captured in the quarantine, too.
Paul pointed to the front of the building. “Open the door.”
Blake momentarily disappeared before the door opened and he stepped onto the porch. “Didn’t you read the notice? You can’t come in here, Paul.”
“I understand,” he said, careful to keep some distance between them. “But what can I do to help?”
Blake rubbed his hands together.
“We’ll need our food replenished in a couple days. And could you gather medical supplies? Ask John Phillips. He’ll help you choose what I need.”
Paul had become acquainted with John Phillips when he’d first arrived in Rochester. The man operated a pharmacy nearby. “Anything else?”
Blake stepped down from the porch and drew closer. “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Broadmoor that Amanda has contracted cholera. I’m doing my best for her. She’s young and strong, but I can’t say with certainty that she’ll make it. She’s very sick.”
Paul grasped the fence and steadied himself. The news would devastate Sophie. And what of Mr. and Mrs. Broadmoor? Amanda’s parents would surely blame themselves for permitting her to work at the Home. The thought of delivering this dreadful report left him speechless.
“Paul! Did you hear me?” Blake shouted.
“Yes, yes. I’ll tell them. Do you think . . . I mean . . . should I . . . ?”
“Just tell them exactly what I’ve said. There’s no way of knowing what will happen. If they want to speak to me, tell them to do as you have. Ring the bell and I’ll come out.”
Paul nodded and turned, too dazed to ask any further questions.
“Don’t forget the medicine and food,” Blake hollered.
Paul waved in recognition of the request. He couldn’t find his voice. The possibility had always existed that one of them would contract some fatal disease from one of the patients, but Paul had always believed God’s hand of protection was upon them. They were, after all, doing God’s work. He rounded the corner and forced such thoughts from his mind. He’d speak to Sophie first. It would be best if she accompanied him to meet with Amanda’s parents. Sophie knew them better than he. Perhaps she could lend some advice on how to best approach them. For the second time this day, he wished he hadn’t walked to work.
3
Sophie tied the ribbons of Elizabeth’s bonnet beneath the sleeping child’s tiny chin while her husband paced in the hallway. Amanda had stitched the bonnet during one of the three cousins’ many sewing sessions before Elizabeth’s birth. Sophie pictured the three of them—Fanny, Amanda, and herself—sitting in the bedroom at Broadmoor Castle with their sewing baskets and fabric. A smile played at her lips as she remembered her cousins’ efforts to help improve her sewing skills. They’d been mostly unsuccessful, and Sophie had accepted the fact that she’d never be an accomplished seamstress—not like Amanda. She traced her finger along the embroidered stems of bluebells with pale green stems and veined leaves that adorned the cap.
The love she held for her cousins was deeper than that which she held for her own siblings. Throughout the years Amanda and Fanny had been her closest friends and confidants. Many had been the occasion when her own sisters had turned away from her in frustration or disgust, but not Amanda and Fanny. They might not always approve of the things she did, but they would never dream of deserting her.
“How can I help?” Paul asked as he continued to pace.
“I’ll be just a moment longer. Is the carriage out front?”
“Yes. We really must be on our way.”
Sophie turned and frowned at her husband. “I’m doing my best.” She lifted Elizabeth from her cradle, careful to keep the blanket tightly tucked around the child. Some said the damp air could cause cholera, and she didn’t intend to take her outdoors unless properly protected against the elements. “I want to make certain the baby is warm enough.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, shifting his gaze toward the floor.
Her words carried a hint of censure, and Paul had taken note. Sophie immediately regretted her behavior. Paul was worried and needed her support instead of a reprimand. But she was worried, too—about all of them. What if Paul or Elizabeth should fall ill? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing either of them.
“I’m sorry for speaking harshly,” she said.
Paul smiled and took the baby into his arms. “You’re forgiven. We’re both worried.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss and opened the door.
The carriage ride to her aunt and uncle’s home seemed longer than usual, and Sophie fidgeted throughout the ride. Surprisingly, her movement had little effect upon Elizabeth, who continued to sleep. A short time later Paul brought the carriage to a halt in front of her uncle’s home, and Elizabeth’s eyes popped open. She wriggled in Sophie’s arms and whimpered.
“I know. You like riding, but we must stop for a while,” she cooed to the baby.
The butler answered the door and, with a nod, bid them enter. He attempted to remain proper, but Sophie noticed his little smile at Elizabeth.
“Are my aunt and uncle at home, Marvin?”
The butler nodded. “I’ll inform them that Mr. and Mrs. Medford and baby Elizabeth have come to call.”
“Thank you, Marvin.” The man was a saint. No wonder her uncle paid him well. “Marvin is the one who helped Amanda, Fanny, and me set up a bucket of whitewash over the kitchen door.”
Paul grinned. “I recall your telling me about that incident. I believe it was your uncle Jonas who ended up covered in whitewash rather than Amanda’s brothers, Jefferson and George.”
Sophie smiled, remembering the sight of her uncle doused in the white concoction. She didn’t know who had been more surprised, but she did recall that her uncle’s jacket and spectacles had both required a good deal of Marvin’s fastidious attention. The entire incident had delighted Jefferson and George, who had promised they’d be on the lookout for any further antics from the three girls.
How the years had changed their circumstances. Sophie missed the times when they would gather at Amanda’s or at their grandparents’ home to spend the night together. They would giggle and talk late into the night about all their hopes and dreams. Funny how life had taken so many unexpected turns. This was not anything like the dream Sophie once had for herself. Amanda and Fanny had always advised her to marry a wealthy man—for only a man of great resources could keep Sophie in the style she craved. Paul was anything but financially well off.
Elizabeth wriggled in her arms and burst forth with a lusty cry as Marvin returned to the foyer. “Seems your little girl doesn’t enjoy waiting. Must take after her mother,” he said with a grin. “Your aunt and uncle will see you in the library.” He leaned a bit closer. “They were preparing to depart on some business.”
“So they’re not particularly happy that we’ve arrived,”
Sophie replied while Elizabeth continued to cry.
“I believe that would be correct.”
Sophie lifted the baby to her shoulder and hoped she could quiet the child while they delivered the news. She glanced at Paul when they arrived at the library door. “I can’t seem to quiet her. Perhaps you should go in and deliver the news while I wait out here with the baby.”
“No.” He shook his head and clasped her elbow. “They’ll receive this better if you’re along.”
Sophie arched her brows. She didn’t think her presence would soften the blow, but she didn’t argue. Elizabeth released a high-pitched wail as they crossed the threshold and entered the library. Her uncle furrowed his brow and scowled in their direction.
“She has just now awakened from her nap and is a bit fussy,” Sophie explained.
“Well, do something to pacify her.” Jonas pulled on his earlobe. “I can’t tolerate that squealing. It’s enough to shatter a mirror.”
Sophie edged closer to Paul. “I think I should take Elizabeth to the other room.”
“We won’t take but a few minutes of your time, sir.” Paul grasped Sophie’s sleeve when she attempted to move toward the door. “Sophie and I have the task of bringing you a piece of disheartening news.”
Before he could say anything more, the baby screeched, and Jonas jumped up from his chair. “Do something to make that child happy, Sophie. You are her mother—I would think you’d know how to stop that incessant crying.”
“I’m trying,” she apologized, swaying back and forth and patting the baby’s back
.
“Jonas! The baby is likely suffering from colic. Your angry temperament is not going to do a jot of good. You’ve likely frightened the child even further.” Victoria extended her arms. “Let me try, Sophie.”
Sophie willingly handed over the baby, though she doubted her aunt would have success. Elizabeth was like the little girl in Longfellow’s poem: When she was good, she was very good indeed, but when she was bad, she was horrid. Though Elizabeth lacked the curl in the middle of her forehead, Sophie thought that, too, would appear over time.
Jonas massaged his forehead. “The three of you continue your visit. I have matters that require my attention.”
Before her uncle could reach the door, Paul stepped in front of him. “You can’t leave, sir.”
Jonas straightened his shoulders and extended his chest forward. “What do you mean, I can’t leave? How dare you tell me what I can or can’t do in my own home! Step out of the way before I am forced to have you removed, young man.”
Paul directed a beseeching look at Sophie.
Stepping to her husband’s side, Sophie said, “Listen to him, Uncle Jonas. This is very important, or we wouldn’t have come here.”
The baby silenced her wailing, and the room became eerily quiet. Sophie sat down beside her aunt and peeked at Elizabeth. Perhaps she should take the child before Paul announced Amanda’s illness. Her aunt could faint and drop the baby. “Let me take her, Aunt Victoria.”
Jonas turned on his heel. “Don’t touch that child. She’ll likely begin to squall if you move her.” He shifted around toward Paul. “Now, what is it that’s so important?”
“The Home for the Friendless has been placed under quarantine, and—”
“Is that what this is about? We already know that. In fact, if the two of you hadn’t interrupted us with your unexpected visit, we’d be on our way over there now. I plan to have Amanda sneak out the rear door and come home immediately.”
A Surrendered Heart Page 3
