A Daughter's Inheritance

by Judith Miller

  Her Aunt Victoria offered an encouraging smile. “You need to pack a few things, Fanny. You’ll come home with us this evening.”

  “But I’ll be fine here until we depart for the island. The servants will be here. There’s truly no reason for me to—”

  Uncle Jonas stepped to his wife’s side, his brows knit together in an angry frown. “Must you argue about everything? This day has proved most stressful for the family, and you continue to add to the strife with your incessant questions and lack of cooperation.”

  “But I wasn’t attempting to be obstinate. I merely thought it would be less disruptive if I remained here until we all depart for Broadmoor Island.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “If you truly want me to pack and come to your house this evening, I’ll go upstairs and put together the items I’ll need for the night. I can return tomorrow and—”

  “Please don’t prattle on like a senile old woman, Fanny. Do as your aunt instructs.” Her uncle turned on his heel and strode across the room toward Mr. Fillmore.

  “Don’t let him frighten you, dear. He’s more bark than bite. What with the added responsibilities since your grandfather’s death, he’s become more abrupt.” Her aunt grasped Fanny’s elbow. “Do you need help?”

  “Amanda and Sophie are waiting upstairs for me. They can assist me in packing.”

  Aunt Victoria nodded. “Try not to be too long. I’ll send someone up to help you with your trunks.”

  Fanny made her way upstairs to the bedroom she had known for most of her life. It seemed strange to imagine that this house would no longer be her home. She entered the room to find Sophie and Amanda in a deep discussion.

  “Oh good. You’re here,” Sophie said as she straightened.

  “Not for long. Aunt Victoria has sent me up here to pack. Uncle Jonas insists that I come to live with them immediately.”

  “How grand,” Amanda said. “You know we will have great fun. Just like at the island.”

  “But this is my home.” Fanny sank to the bed. “Every memory I have is of this place.”

  “My comment was thoughtless,” Amanda said in apology.

  “But still, you don’t want to just ramble around this big place alone,” Sophie put in. “It might be very frightening—especially at night.”

  “I don’t think I would ever be afraid here.” Fanny looked around the room and felt tears come to her eyes once again. “Leaving here will be like leaving them all. Father. Grand-mère, and Grandfather. I don’t know how I will bear it.”

  “We will bear it together,” Amanda said softly. “Won’t we, Sophie?”

  “Absolutely. We’ve always been there for one another. Nothing is going to change now that you’re far richer than the rest of us.” She grinned.

  “Sophie!”

  Fanny actually smiled. “It’s all right. I don’t mind her teasing. It’s the anger of the others that hurts me.”

  “Forget about them,” Amanda said, getting to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you packed. There’s nothing to be gained by standing here shedding tears. It won’t change the fact that Grandfather is gone. We will all miss him, but perhaps none of us will miss him as much as you, dear Fanny.”

  Jonas leaned against his father’s desk and waited until Victoria and his niece were well out of earshot. “We need to talk, Mortimer. My father’s bequest to Fanny came as a shock.”

  The lawyer dropped into a chair opposite Jonas. “Obviously! Your behavior nearly set off a storm among the family. I must say I’ve never seen you lose control of your emotions at such a critical moment. You usually play your cards close to the vest, Jonas. Such restraint would have better served you today, also.”

  “I know. I know. But something must be done in regard to my father’s bequest to Fanny. He blindsided me.” Jonas attempted to hold his irritation in check. Mortimer settled back in his chair. “How so?”

  Several relatives gathered in the entrance hall, and Jonas couldn’t be certain if they were bidding each other farewell or attempting to overhear his conversation with the lawyer. “Just one moment, Mortimer.” He strode to the library door and waved to the gathered relatives before sliding the pocket door closed. He returned to his chair. “I’ll be glad when they’ve all departed.”

  The lawyer retrieved his pocket watch and, after a glance, shoved it back into his vest. “You said your father had blindsided you.”

  “Yes. He called me to his bedside last week and advised me that he’d made me executor of the will and Fanny’s guardian and trustee until she reached her age of majority. Of course I agreed. The old man has been dying for years. I didn’t count on him actually up and completing the process before Fanny’s next birthday. I also didn’t think to question how much of an inheritance he had left her. I assumed he would leave a small bequest—enough for her to make her grand tour and keep up appearances until she made a proper marriage. He certainly gave no indication she would receive a full third of his estate or that we’d be required to return to Broadmoor Island in order to receive final distribution. An abomination, as far as I’m concerned. The girl knows nothing about handling money. Is there no way my father’s bequest can be set aside?”

  “I’m afraid not, Jonas.” Mr. Fillmore shook his head. “And have you considered the effect such behavior would cause throughout the community? You would appear an ogre who is attempting to take advantage of a poor defenseless young woman. There are other ways to overcome this bit of difficulty. We need only to plan a strategy and work within the purview of your father’s will.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “You know the girl much better than I. Does she trust you?

  Will she comply with your decisions? If not, we’ll need to rely upon a more cunning method.”

  Jonas edged forward on his chair. “I have no doubt she’ll be difficult. My father mentioned she’d likely object to the grand tour. Knowing Fanny, she’d much prefer to spend the remainder of her days living on Broadmoor Island. It’s the place where she’s most content—at least according to my father.” Jonas tugged on his vest. “Unlike most young ladies, she’s always enjoyed fishing and being outdoors. She knows every inch of Broadmoor Island like the back of her hand.”

  “If she goes on her grand tour, she’ll be out of the way and you’ll have full authority over her funds. We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that an accounting to the court will be necessary. Good judgment in how we manage matters will be key.” Mortimer massaged his forehead. “I believe you have several choices for your niece’s future. With both of us considering all options, we’ll arrive at the perfect solution. I’m confident of that.”

  For the first time since hearing the contents of his father’s will, Jonas held out hope he could gain control of Fanny’s bequest. Money that rightfully should be his! Money he needed to cover some rather bad investments. His irritation mounted at the remembrance that his father had given Fanny the same bequest that he, the eldest son of the family, had received. Never would he have believed his father would do such a thing. The girl obviously had a way about her if she’d enticed his father to leave her such an inheritance.

  Then again, had he preceded his father in death, Jonas would have expected his father to divide his share of the estate among his family members. But this was different. His brother Langley hadn’t been of much use during his lifetime, especially after his wife’s death. And Jonas thought his parents had already done more than their share for Langley’s daughter. They’d reared and educated Fanny since she was an infant, even though Langley had lived until Fanny turned eleven.

  Langley was the one who had turned the girl’s fancy toward the outdoors and encouraged her to try new things, even if they weren’t considered completely appropriate for young ladies. Fanny had been threading worms onto fishing hooks from the age of five. When Jonas’s wife had objected, Langley had simply brushed her comments aside. He professed a theory of permitting children the opportunity to explore the wonders of nature. Jonas consid
ered his brother’s theory no more than an excuse for lackadaisical child rearing. But then, Langley had remained apathetic about all important matters of life. He had cared little about money, power, or position; yet his daughter had received a full share in the estate. But not for long. Not if Jonas had his way in the matter.

  Mortimer shoved the will inside his leather case. “Well, my friend, what do you think? Shall we banish the girl to Europe or to Broadmoor Island?”

  “Let me think on it. Once we’ve transported the family to Broadmoor Island, I’ll be better able to consider the best path to follow.” Jonas leaned forward and rested his chin atop his tented fingers. “This situation seems entirely unfair. In all probability, Quincy will pour every cent of his inheritance into that charity of his. I don’t know which problem is more irritating.”

  Mr. Fillmore raked his fingers through his thinning white hair. “I do understand your frustration, but I’m certain your father understood Quincy would donate his share toward the home. If he’d objected, your father could have easily placed conditions on the money or even written Quincy out of the will if he’d so desired. As Fanny’s guardian and trustee of her estate, you’ll have a much easier time if you concentrate on her and put aside any ill feelings toward Quincy. In fact, you might consider making him an ally.”

  Jonas leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I’ll see what I can do, though I doubt I’ll have success with that tack.”

  Mr. Fillmore rested one hand on the desk and pushed himself upright. “Well, remember what they say, my boy. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. In this case, there is much to be gained if you play your cards correctly.”

  Jonas shook hands with Mortimer and walked him to the front door, thankful the house was finally quiet and the guests had departed.

  5

  Thus far, being at her aunt and uncle’s home hadn’t been nearly as uncomfortable as Fanny had anticipated. After Uncle Jonas’s behavior during the reading of the will, she’d expected to be the object of his anger. Surprisingly, he’d proved most amiable during supper, even inquiring if she’d taken an interest in any young men. This was a topic that had made her the recipient of much teasing from both Jefferson and George throughout the remainder of the evening—at least until she and Amanda escaped upstairs.

  The two girls curled into the comfortable chairs situated at the far end of Amanda’s bedroom. Victoria Broadmoor had objected to the easy chairs, stating they were far too masculine for a young lady’s sitting room. But Amanda had successfully argued that once upholstered in rose and beige silk damask, they would be perfect. Fanny was glad her cousin had won the argument, for the chairs were far more comfortable than the straight-back, open-arm chairs in her own rooms at Broadmoor Mansion.

  “I’m pleased you agreed to come and stay with us until we leave for the island. I find it a great comfort. It’s so terribly sad to lose the people we love,” Amanda said with a sigh.

  “I’m glad I didn’t remain at the mansion, too. I know I would have been lonely.” Fanny tucked her legs beneath her and rearranged her skirts. Aunt Victoria would certainly disapprove of the unladylike position. “I’m thankful your father was more pleasant at supper. He nearly frightened me to death when he knocked over his chair at the reading of the will this afternoon.”

  “His reaction was startling. I asked Mother about it, and she said he sometimes acts strange when he’s caught off guard. She attributed his offensive behavior to grief over Grandfather’s death and the unexpected contents of the will.”

  Fanny didn’t argue. Perhaps Aunt Victoria was correct and her uncle was suffering from grief. If so, he’d quickly recovered, for he’d been all smiles at the supper table while quizzing her about any beaus and the possibility of her grand tour. Neither topic interested Fanny in the least. “I was pleased your father at least mentioned my love of Broadmoor Island. He didn’t seem overly put off when I suggested remaining there year-round. Do you think he might agree?”

  “Oh, Fanny, don’t be silly. He didn’t argue at the supper table, but I don’t believe either of my parents would agree to such an arrangement. And why would you want to live on the island during the winter? There’s nobody there except the help. What would you do with yourself once the cold weather set in?”

  “The Atwells are there, and Michael would take me ice fishing. I could help him with the chores. I’m certain I could find plenty to keep me busy.”

  “You? Doing chores? Will you milk the cows or perhaps feed the chickens?” Amanda’s lilting laughter filled the room.

  Fanny folded her arms across her chest. “I can do those things. You forget I’ve spent much more time on the island than the rest of you. I could milk a cow years ago, and I learned to gather eggs without being pecked by the hens, too.”

  “Well, those are accomplishments all young ladies of society want to list among their credentials. Really, Fanny. I do understand that you’re not interested in the social life of the family, but milking cows is carrying the matter too far.”

  “And what do you think you’ll be required to do if you truly want to work with the less fortunate? Or have you changed your mind since traveling abroad?”

  Amanda shook her head. Fanny was mystified when her cousin’s blond tresses remained perfectly in place. Why wouldn’t her hair cooperate like Amanda’s?

  “I haven’t changed my mind in the least, but I don’t consider charitable work on the same level as milking cows and feeding chickens.” Amanda patted her head. “And why are you staring at my hair? Does it need to be brushed and refashioned?”

  “Quite the contrary. There’s not a strand out of place.” Fanny cupped her chin in her hand. “Tell me what you’ve planned for your future. I’m interested to hear about the work you’re thinking about.”

  “Nothing is laid out just yet. Mother has agreed she’ll talk to some of her friends who are involved in several of her charitable causes. Of course everything will hinge on what Father says. He’s permitted Mother to have her freedom working with her ladies’ aid groups and the like, but now that I’ve returned from my grand tour, he seems determined I should wed.” Amanda shivered. “And most of the men he’s suggested are either simpletons or bores.”

  “Likely sons of his wealthy business associates,” Fanny said. “Did you tell him of your dream to perform charitable work?”

  “Yes, but he says there’s plenty of time for that after I wed. He pointed to Mother as a prime example, saying she’s been involved in more good works than most unmarried women.”

  “Have you ever considered the fact that your mother is more suited to Uncle Quincy than to your father?”

  Amanda jolted upright in her chair. “What? No. I can’t even imagine such a thing!”

  “Well, it’s true. They both believe in giving of their time and money to aid those less fortunate, while your father is interested only in his business success and accumulating a vast fortune. He disdains those of lesser social position and wealth. He never exhibited love for my father, and he holds Uncle Quincy in low esteem. I think the reason he permits your mother to perform her charity work is because he can take credit for her good works. His name is automatically attached to the many hours she devotes to working with the underprivileged.”

  Amanda frowned. “You make him sound simply dreadful. He can be caustic, but he is esteemed in the community. And he donates money to charity,” she defended.

  “I suppose I was a bit harsh, but I’ve given you points that could bolster your argument. Explain that your good works would bring additional prestige to the family name, but that prestige would go to your husband if you were to wed—along with a sizable dowry, I’d venture. If all else fails, you could insist you’d prefer college over wedding plans.”

  Amanda sighed. “I do wish Father would put forth as much effort finding wives for Jefferson and George. After all, they’re older than I.”

  “But they act like young hooligans, what with their silly pranks and constant tea
sing. It seems they’ve become even more immature since they’ve been away at college. I would think your father would tire of their unruly behavior.”

  Amanda shrugged. “He hears little of their antics. He’s gone most of the time, and Mother says she doesn’t want to upset him with such trivial matters. She insists he has more important issues weighing on his mind.”

  “When Mrs. Donaldson discovers your brothers are the ones who have frightened her young sons by donning sheets and pretending to be ghosts, I doubt she’ll consider their behavior trivial.”

  “Are you certain my brothers were involved?”

  Fanny bobbed her head. “I heard them talking with some of their friends after the funeral service the other day. They’re planning a return to the Donaldsons’ tomorrow evening. All of them think it’s great sport scaring those little fellows. I wish we could think of some way to turn the tables on them.”

  Amanda tapped her chin. “With a little thought, perhaps we can.”

  “Fanny! Wake up! I’ve come up with a plan.” Sunlight poured through the east window of Amanda’s second-floor bedroom.

  Fanny rubbed her eyes and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “Plan for what?”

  “My brothers. How we can even the score for the Donaldson children.” Amanda waved her forward. “Come and look.”

  Fanny shoved her feet into her slippers and padded to the window. She peered into the garden and then looked at her cousin. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “Do you see old Henry whitewashing that fence out near the far flower garden?”

  Fanny nodded. She wished her cousin would come to the point. Her brain was still fuzzy from lack of sleep. They’d stayed up last night talking and giggling until the wee hours of the morning. Now Amanda wanted her to wake up and immediately solve some silly puzzle about one of the servants whitewashing the fence.

  “I’m going to have Henry give me some of that whitewash. After my brothers sneak out of the house tonight, I’ll convince Marvin to help us rig it up above the back door. When they return home, they won’t need sheets to turn them into ghosts.” Her eyes sparkled. “What do you think?”