A Daughter's Inheritance

by Judith Miller

  They hurried toward the dock as another gale of wind swooped down from the sloping path. Slowly but then beginning to gather a trace of speed, the unattended baby carriage rolled down the dock. Fear clawed at Fanny’s throat. “Is the baby in there?” She gasped for air. “Did the nanny have the baby in her arms?”

  Amanda’s blond tresses whipped about her face. She clawed at the hair and held it from her eyes. “I don’t think so. Hurry!” Fanny sprinted at full speed with Amanda and Sophie on her heels. A roar of wind muted their urgent screams for help. Fanny squinted. Surely her eyes deceived her. The buggy had picked up speed. Without slowing her pace, Fanny uttered an urgent prayer for the child who might be lying in the buggy. Her shoes clattered and echoed on the dock’s wood planks. Her screams continued. If she could only lengthen her stride, she would reach the buggy before it plunged into the water.

  She stretched in a mighty leap, but the toe of her shoe caught between the planks as she landed. She hurtled forward, unable to gain her balance. A keening wail escaped her lips, and she could do nothing more than watch the carriage topple into the dark water below.

  10

  Michael was in the boathouse when he heard the first scream. More screams followed and sent him running from the shelter up the path toward the house, where he saw several people yelling and pointing at the river.

  Fanny was lying prone on the dock, her arms stretched toward the end of the structure. He turned and saw what appeared to be a carriage dropping off the end of the pier and into the water. Horrified, he raced to the dock’s edge and jumped into the water. The buggy had tipped sideways in the water, and the hazy sun cast an eerie shadow across a pale blue blanket. Michael fought his way through a surging wave and grasped the object. He lifted the bundle into the air and was greeted by a howling cry. Jumping to avoid a wave that threatened to toss him off his feet and the baby into the chest-high water, Michael struggled to maintain his balance while holding the infant. He leaned forward and fought against the current that pummeled and pushed him toward the wood pilings supporting the dock.

  “Michael! Can you move this way so I can reach the baby?” With her cousins holding her legs, Fanny lay flat on the dock and stretched her arms over the edge.

  Easing his foothold, Michael allowed the current to move him toward the dock. The wind briefly abated and he lifted the baby high into Fanny’s hands before ducking beneath the deck and grabbing hold of a wood piling on the other side. He worked his way forward into the shallows and then hefted himself onto the dock. Keeping his wits about him, Michael spotted the buggy, now wedged in a stand of rocks not far from the dock. After retrieving a pole from alongside the pier, he freed the soggy carriage from the rocky crevice.

  The wind snatched Mrs. Clermont’s flower-bedecked hat and bounced it across the lawn as she raced toward the dock. From the terror reflected in her eyes, it was obvious she’d observed the frightening scene. “Evan! Is he all right?” Her scream pierced the air.

  Several family members followed behind carrying blankets while Mrs. Clermont shouted commands and clutched the infant to her chest. She grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around the wet child.

  Michael sat hunched on the edge of the dock. Mrs. Clermont slowed her pace and stepped to his side. “Thank you for saving my child. Once the baby is cared for and asleep, I shall speak with you.”

  The staff and family members who had continued to scurry to the dock during the incident now gathered around Mrs. Clermont. While the group walked toward the house as one huddled mass of humanity, Michael was left to consider the woman’s final comment. She had thanked him, but did she expect some explanation of what had occurred? If so, he surely couldn’t tell her. He’d not observed anything until the carriage careened into the water. Surely she didn’t hold him responsible. After all, she had thanked him for saving the baby. He forced himself upright. Right now there wasn’t time to dwell on the matter.

  The storm clouds and rough gales had continued to build with surprising ferocity, and unless the wind turned, the water would soon be rising. Though he longed to change out of his wet clothes, he couldn’t spare the time. He must secure the boats.

  While the nanny rushed off to unpack dry clothing for the infant, Louisa fiercely rubbed his tiny limbs with a soft towel. With each wail, the baby’s lower lip quivered, but the bluish purple shade had now vanished from his lips. His rosy complexion had been restored—due either to Louisa’s robust toweling or to the fact that his body temperature had returned to normal. Fanny couldn’t be certain where to assign credit.

  Sophie held her fingers to her ears. “That baby certainly has healthy lungs, doesn’t he?”

  Louisa glanced up at her sister. “Yes, and his name is Evan— not that baby.”

  “I don’t need your criticism, Louisa.” Sophie glared at her sister. “If it weren’t for the three of us, he’d have drowned in the river.”

  “I believe it was that young man on the dock who saved Evan, not you.”

  “But it was our screams . . .”

  Fanny tugged on Sophie’s sleeve and tipped her head close. “Not now, Sophie. Your sister is quite upset. She’s likely blaming herself for leaving the baby unattended.”

  Dinah Hertzel, the baby’s nanny, hurried into the parlor with a fresh diaper and soft gown for little Evan. “You sit down and rest, ma’am. I’ll dress the lad.” She took in the gathered throng. “Perhaps one of you could fetch a cup of tea for Mrs. Clermont.”

  One of the servants hurried to the kitchen, and Louisa sat down beside her father. “I believe the young man who saved Evan’s life should be rewarded. Once the storm abates, I’m going to visit him at the boathouse. I need to properly thank him and give him five dollars for his heroic act.”

  Quincy rubbed his hand along his cheek. “I doubt the young man expects any remuneration for his action, but I agree he should receive a reward. I do think it should be ten dollars rather than the five you’ve proposed.”

  “I would think the life of a baby would fetch a much higher price,” Sophie muttered.

  Louisa folded her arms across her waist and glowered at her sister. “If he were an educated man accustomed to receiving large sums of money, I might agree. However, to someone of his class, five or ten dollars is a handsome sum. He’ll be pleased with whatever he receives.”

  William Broadmoor nodded. “I heartily agree. He’s young and uneducated. If you give him any more than that, he’ll squander it all on a good time.”

  Victoria Broadmoor tapped her son on the shoulder. “Are you suggesting that educated men don’t squander their money on a good time? I believe I recall several educated young men— members of this family, in fact—who have misspent money on many a frivolous activity.”

  “Based upon the fact that the water was no higher than his chest, his risk was limited, and he’s not entitled to any more than ten dollars,” Jefferson declared.

  “Well, where were you, Jefferson?” Sophie demanded of her cousin. “I didn’t see you out there in the water! And the waves were exceedingly strong. He could have been pulled under and the baby along with him.”

  “George and I were playing a game of billiards in the game room. Besides, we were sufficiently doused on the Fourth of July, if you remember.”

  “I agree with Jefferson,” George said. “I think his risk was minimal, at best, and ten dollars is sufficient.”

  “Of course you agree. You agree with everything your brother says,” Sophie rebutted.

  Fanny could barely keep up with the continuing battle. Rather than celebrating Evan’s safety, they were entrenched in a silly dispute over money. It was an inconsequential sum to a wealthy family yet still deemed worthy of an argument.

  She walked outside, anxious to be away from her family’s nonsensical disagreement. The glimmer of sunshine peeking from behind a bank of clouds brought a smile to her lips. The wind had shifted, and the storm appeared to be moving to the south. She was relieved they wouldn’t suf
fer a night of pounding rain and lightning.

  From the far end of the lower veranda, she noticed the side door to the boathouse remained ajar. She wandered to the dock, anxious to speak with Michael and thank him for rescuing her youngest relative. After lightly rapping on the door, she peered inside. “Michael? Are you in here?”

  “Over here!”

  She spotted his mass of dark curls on the far side of the boathouse. “I’m pleased to see the storm has passed.”

  “Be careful you don’t trip and fall on those boards,” he called.

  She gathered her skirts and picked her way across the expanse. “I wanted to make certain you were all right.”

  “I’m fine. Once I hoisted the boats out of the water, I was able to get into some dry clothes. How’s the baby?”

  “He’s fine, thanks to you. I can’t tell you how much I admire your bravery. You jumped into the water with no thought for your own well-being. Little Evan is alive, thanks to your heroic action.”

  He shook his head. “You’re making far too much of what happened. By hanging over the edge of the dock, you placed yourself in greater danger than I faced in the water. And if you hadn’t screamed, I wouldn’t have known anything was amiss. Mrs. Clermont has you to thank for saving her child.”

  “No, Michael. You’re the hero. Please don’t say otherwise. Not to me or to anyone else in this family. You’ve performed a brave deed this day, and you shouldn’t discount saving a life.”

  He wrapped his callused hands around the handle of the boat pulley.

  Fanny looked up and noted the straps that had been secured around the DaisyBee. “You’re preparing to lower her back into the water?”

  He nodded. “The storm has moved on. No reason to keep her out of the water. Someone may want to take a boat ride later this evening.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Was that an invitation?”

  “Not unless you have a chaperone. I don’t want to lose my job. I’d be forced to leave this island that I love, and I’d miss my mother’s cooking, too.”

  She giggled. “I couldn’t bear to be the cause of such horrid consequences.”

  He turned the pulley handle, and Fanny watched as he lifted the boat high enough to remove the wood planks. He then lowered each one, careful to keep it from falling into the water in the slip below. His muscles rippled as he fought to control each of the heavy timbers. His strength and agility to handle the task on his own amazed her. Through the years, he had developed a system that served him well.

  “If you’re going to remain down here for a while, you might as well sit down,” he shouted over the squeals of the pulley. “I think I better oil this thing. After the launch is back in the water, I’m going to take care of the skiffs and canoes.” He held the handle of the pulley with one hand and pointed to the nearby corner. “There’s a chair over there. It looks a mess, but it’s clean.”

  Michael’s assessment was correct. The chair had seen better days. Layers of white had been applied years ago, but in the dampness of the boathouse, the paint had peeled away to leave a jagged design of wood splotches. Fanny hiked the skirt of her pale green lawn dress and perched her straw bonnet on the chair’s curved finial. There was a peace to this place: the hypnotic rhythm of the water lapping against the timbered boat slips, the musty smell of wet wood—she felt as though she could drink in the sights and smells forever. This island offered a sense of security and well-being that she experienced nowhere else. Michael was fortunate to live here. She could only hope to convince Uncle Jonas that this would be the perfect place for her, too.

  The boat slowly settled into the water, and she applauded. “Good job.”

  He leaned forward in a deep bow. “Thank you, dear lady. Your kind words are a pleasurable reward for my difficult labors.”

  “You are most welcome, sir,” she said with a grin. “As for rewards, I do believe Cousin Louisa will be offering you a monetary gift for saving little Evan.”

  “That’s not necessary. In fact, receiving money for meeting the need of another would cause me great discomfort. I don’t want or expect to be paid for doing what is right.”

  He lifted one of the canoes from its place of safety overhead. Fanny rested her elbow on one knee and cupped her chin. Michael’s attitude continued to astonish her. Through the years they’d occasionally discussed their faith in God. Like Michael, she had gone to church with her family. They filled several rows each Sunday morning and were frequently lauded for their monetary gifts to the church. But her family didn’t live their faith—not as Michael and his parents did.

  While her family argued over both important and trivial matters, she’d never witnessed such behavior in Michael’s family. Instead of arguing, they always talked and worked together to find a resolution to their problems. His family appeared to find joy in simple pleasures, while her family constantly moved from one obsession to another, always searching for something that would make them happy. Even with a household of servants and the most modern conveniences life could offer, they bickered and argued in a gloomy state of existence. Rather than love and affection, the family money was the glue that held the Broadmoors together. The bribery required to bring them together each summer was evidence enough to support Fanny’s bleak assessment. Uncle Jonas didn’t hide his obsession, and although Uncle Quincy used a great deal of his money to help the homeless, he’d become obsessed with his mission, placing it above God and family. He willingly offered support to the impoverished while ignoring the needs of his own children, especially Sophie. The Broadmoors gave and spent their money only where it would garner accolades and respect among their peers.

  With an involuntary shiver, Fanny understood that money had replaced even the God they self-righteously claimed to serve.

  “I miss the days when we were free to wander at will and enjoy ourselves,” Fanny said with a sigh. “My favorite memories are of this island—and of you.”

  Michael looked up, and his expression seemed pained. He quickly refocused on his work. “Nothing ever stays the same.”

  “I suppose not. I feel that my life has come quite undone— once again. Every time I lose someone, I feel as though a part of me has died, as well.”

  Michael stopped and came to her. “I’m truly sorry, Fanny. I know how close you were to your grandfather.”

  “It’s not just that.” She felt tears form in her eyes and blinked hard. “I never realized just how much the Broadmoor family hates one another, and this island.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “I knew they bickered and that often the summer was spent with one group or another secluded away from everyone else because of some riff. But honestly, no. I didn’t realize how much hatred existed among them until I saw them fighting and backstabbing at Grandfather’s funeral.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The reading of the will was even worse. They are so jealous— so worried that someone will get more than they will. They’re like a pack of wolves picking over a dead man’s bones.”

  “Greed and money make people do strange things.”

  “I suppose my desire for a family simply caused me to overlook the truth. I thought everyone was as eager to come here as I. I thought they loved it as much as I did. It’s the only place I’ve ever been truly happy, despite it being where Papa . . . where he . . . died. I was confident that the others longed for this respite just like I did.”

  Michael knelt down beside her. “No. Your love of this place is special. Few share your heart in that matter. But I know how you feel. I love it, too. Just as I . . .” He fell silent as if embarrassed and then jumped quickly to his feet. “Fanny, you should go back to the house. You’re a grown woman, and it’s not seemly for you to be here alone with me.”

  Fanny looked at him for a moment before rising. “I suppose I shall lose you, as well. Nothing ever stays the same.”

  Michael watched her walk slowly back toward the house. He longed to go after her and convin
ce her that she was wrong, but his mother’s warning rang in his ears. He wasn’t ever going to be allowed to court a Broadmoor.

  Fanny faded from view as she topped the hill. Michael felt her absence like an intense pain that would not abate.

  “You’ll never lose me, Fanny” he whispered. “But I know I shall lose you, and that will be my undoing.”

  11

  Saturday, July 10, 1897

  Fanny fidgeted in her chair. The evening meal was progressing particularly slowly, either by Aunt Victoria’s design or due to some unknown difficulty in the kitchen. The servants didn’t appear flustered during their appearances in the dining room, so Fanny eventually concluded the pace had been set by her aunt.

  Aunt Victoria delighted in entertaining, especially when the local newspaper could report Edward and Elizabeth Oosterman had accepted her invitation for a private supper party. Mr. and Mrs. Oosterman topped the list of prestigious and influential people who summered in the Thousand Islands. Their attendance at any social gathering of the wealthy ensured success—and newspaper coverage. Fanny wasn’t certain who had given the Oostermans their ostentatious designation, but topping the list was assuredly tied to their wealth. Money spoke volumes among the summer people.

  Mr. Oosterman sat to Uncle Jonas’s right. At the opposite end of the table, Mrs. Oosterman was seated beside Aunt Victoria. With Mrs. Oosterman on one side and Louisa on the other, Fanny had quickly grown bored. Rather than George and Jefferson, she wished Sophie and Amanda had been seated across from her. Instead, her female cousins were at the other end of the table. Thus far the dinner conversation had consisted of wearisome discussions about guest lists, menus, and themes for summer parties.

  Mrs. Oosterman suggested a masked ball be considered a possibility for the summer agenda of frivolity. “I would even consider hosting the ball myself. What do you think, Victoria?”