A Daughter's Inheritance

by Judith Miller

  “And I’ll wager you’re hoping he’ll return without Theresa. Am I right?” Sophie nudged her cousin and giggled.

  Fanny pretended she didn’t hear.

  13

  Monday, July 19, 1897

  Jonas had planned to catch the early train, but his plans had gone awry when Victoria insisted upon accompanying him to Clayton in order to visit one of her favorite dressmakers. He’d missed the early train, so the first day of the workweek would be a complete loss. She ignored his grumbles and told him it was summertime and he should relax. Women! They didn’t understand the complexity of operating a business and acquiring assets. They did, however, possess the ability to spend money without difficulty.

  During their short boat ride from the island, Victoria regaled him with details of the fabric and the dress she was having fashioned for one of their upcoming parties. When he thought a response was expected, he offered no more than a grunt or a nod. The two of them had been married long enough that she should realize he cared not a whit about chiffon and muslin or whether a dress was pleated, tucked, or puffed. He reminded himself that a woman’s brain could be easily occupied with matters of little import, whereas a man’s mind required the meaty issues of life.

  He offered his hand to Victoria and assisted her onto the boat dock that bordered the Clayton train tracks. She tucked her hand beneath his arm. They appeared the perfect couple.

  When they’d safely traversed the tracks and reached the platform, Victoria pecked Jonas on the cheek. “I do wish you’d make an effort to return on Thursday evening rather than Friday. The family could enjoy a nice long weekend together. Promise you’ll do your best.”

  Jonas touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll try, but with my late departure today, I doubt I can return before Friday. You do remember that I may have guests with me.”

  She stopped midstep. “Guests?”

  A train whistle wailed in the distance, and Jonas glanced down the tracks. “I told you that I plan to use my free time each evening deciding upon eligible suitors for Amanda and Fanny. I told you I’d be bringing the young men to visit at the island.”

  “But I didn’t think you meant so soon. I wanted to discuss the matter further, Jonas. I’ve already told you that I’m opposed to this matchmaking idea. I want the girls to marry for love, not because they’ve been forced into an arranged marriage.”

  He craned his neck and peered down the tracks. Why didn’t the train arrive? He was tired of explaining the same thing over and over to his wife. Why couldn’t women merely accept that their husbands knew what was best!

  “As I’ve already told you, it is much too risky to allow them to make such weighty decisions. Besides, it’s time the girls accepted a few of the responsibilities that accompany the wealth they’ve enjoyed all these years. Marrying well is expected, and young women can’t be trusted to make wise choices.”

  A breeze played at the hem of Victoria’s pale blue muslin gown. “And I say they are intelligent young ladies who should have a say in choosing a husband.”

  Jonas sighed. “Why do you argue with me? We didn’t marry for love. Surely our marriage is proof enough that love can grow.”

  “Speak for yourself, Jonas Broadmoor.” With a stomp of her leather slipper, she turned and strode off without a backward glance.

  “Don’t forget to alert the staff there will be additional guests arriving for the weekend,” he called.

  His wife didn’t acknowledge him, but Jonas knew she’d heard the reminder. In time he’d win Victoria over to his way of thinking. If necessary, he’d tell her Fanny’s interest in Michael was proof enough that the girl couldn’t be trusted to marry a man of worth. Even if Victoria didn’t come around to his idea, she would accept his decision. She had no choice.

  Once settled on the train, Jonas searched his mind for potential candidates, primarily for Fanny. He would concentrate on her first. Finding the proper man for Fanny was urgent. There were plenty of young men who would prove acceptable for his own daughter. But the man for Fanny must be very carefully selected. He’d need a man of social position. Yet the proper candidate must be willing to adhere to Jonas’s commands. Someone with an eye toward attaining the wealth and power associated with the Broadmoor name, a man who would not otherwise be considered.

  Suddenly he was struck by a thought of brilliance. This would not be so difficult after all! Many powerful families in New York had suffered through the depression and still remained in a state of economic instability. Others would never recover. For the present, they all maintained their social standing within the ranks of New York society. Fanny’s group of suitors would be the sons of such men! Any of them had much to gain by marrying young Frances Jane Broadmoor and would be easily managed.

  Indeed, he would speak to his lawyer as soon as possible. Mortimer would surely know of some suitable young men—and if he didn’t, his younger son, John, would prove helpful. Still unmarried, John Fillmore enjoyed the social life; he was certain to know any such eligible men. Of course Jonas wouldn’t confide in John. He’d rely upon Mortimer to extract the information from his son. While Jonas trusted both the lawyer and his older son, Vincent, implicitly, he thought John exceedingly lazy. Somewhat akin to his own sons Jefferson and George.

  “Must be this generation,” Jonas muttered hours later as he stepped down from the train. Weary from his journey, he departed the station and signaled for a cab. There would be little accomplished at this late hour. He’d go directly to the house. First thing tomorrow, he’d set his plan in motion.

  Jonas signaled Mortimer toward his table at the Revere Hotel. Over a lunch of thick open-faced beef sandwiches and strong coffee, the lawyer placed his stamp of approval upon Jonas’s plan and agreed to provide a list of candidates posthaste, even a name or two by the end of the day. Then the men departed for their respective offices.

  Jonas paced in front of his wide office window that offered a view of Main Street and inhaled a deep breath. His office clock chimed five but still no word from Mortimer. Neither anger nor irritation would serve him well. He wanted to schedule private meetings with each of the men tomorrow. If Mortimer didn’t furnish names, Jonas would be delayed.

  While still contemplating his departure for home, the telephone rang. “Jonas! I’m glad to find you still in the office.” Mortimer’s voice crackled through the line. “I have some names for you if you’d like to jot them down.”

  Though Jonas still didn’t like telephones, it was at times such as these that he appreciated the contraptions. He knew telephone usage would continue, but Jonas had little respect for the telephone company. He’d been unimpressed when the company had imposed continuing increases that had eventually compelled the subscribers to form a users’ strike that had continued for two full years. Not until the Rochester Common Council had ordered the telephone company to remove its unused poles from the streets of Rochester was a compromise finally reached and telephone usage resumed.

  The company immediately expanded to the more affluent neighborhoods of Rochester and even began to offer reliable long-distance service. Much to his wife’s dismay, Jonas refused to have the jangling piece of equipment in his home. But work was another matter. One must keep pace with the competition and be accessible. He’d learned that lesson long ago.

  “Just the names and nothing more. I don’t like discussing private concerns on the telephone,” Jonas said.

  Mortimer grunted his agreement and offered four names. “I’m not so sure about that last one. John recommended him, but don’t set up an appointment with him until you hear from me tomorrow.”

  “Three provide a sufficient beginning. You’re certain these men meet our criteria?” He recognized only one of the names.

  “Two of them are from New York City but are currently in Rochester seeking new opportunities. I know their fathers. I can stop by the house this evening if you’d like further information before contacting them.”

  Jonas hesitated. “I don’t e
ven know where to contact them.”

  Mortimer laughed. “One is staying at the Regent Hotel, and the other has a room at the Exeter.”

  Jonas heard a click on the telephone line and hesitated. “I’d prefer discussing this in person.” Someone had picked up another phone and was listening to their conversation. Annoying contraption! “On second thought, why don’t you come over around eight o’clock and have a brandy. We can speak privately.”

  “Good enough.”

  Jonas continued to hold the receiver to his ear. Two clicks followed Mortimer’s farewell. Someone had been listening. Little wonder he seldom used a telephone. He’d learned early in life that people were nosy and enjoyed gossip. His wife and daughter were prime examples. They constantly discussed every tidbit that came their way, while men tucked away useful bits of information and discarded the remainder as nonsensical prattle.

  Donning his hat, Jonas departed for home. There was much to accomplish this evening. The moment he entered the house, he instructed the housekeeper to serve his dinner in the library, a practice he often employed when the family was away. Tonight, the solitude would permit him time to consider his plan in broader detail.

  After a brief time upstairs to refresh himself, Jonas returned to the library and set to work. He had made little progress when the maid entered with his tray. Nodding, he signaled her to place the tray near the doors leading into the garden. Jonas didn’t particularly enjoy gardens or flowers, but he appreciated what the flower industry had done for Rochester. Visitors were continually amazed at the city’s resilience and adaptation to change. Both his grandfather and father had realized the need to follow that same example.

  For a time, the numerous flour mills in the area earned Rochester the nickname Flour City, but the flour industry eventually moved west to accommodate the wheat farmers, and Rochester lost its prominence in flour production. The city had already become acclaimed, however, for its beautiful flowers and the production and shipping of flower seeds. The city’s nickname switched from Flour City to Flower City, and the Broadmoor family purchased an interest in the flower industry. Thereafter, Hamilton and Jonas invested large portions of the family wealth in the Eastman Dry Plate and Film Company and Bausch and Lomb, two other local businesses. Thus far, the investments had proven themselves valuable, and Jonas remained certain he would reap huge financial rewards for years to come. At least those investments had proven sound. If only they would produce enough profit to cover the mess his failures had caused.

  After wiping his mouth, Jonas pushed his tray to the side, returned to his desk, and awaited Mortimer’s arrival. As expected, his trusted attorney arrived precisely on time. Their discussion led to drafting an outline for a speech Jonas would give to each of the young men. They’d briefly considered bringing them all together for a dinner meeting but soon decided upon individual appointments. In a private meeting Jonas would be better able to evaluate the pliability of each man and determine if an invitation to the island should be extended. Groundwork would be clearly established with each man at the initial meeting. Together, Jonas and Mortimer drafted a letter including an appointed time to meet with Jonas on Thursday. The men agreed an hour would be allocated for each candidate. When Mortimer departed at eleven o’clock, Jonas was confident he would find the perfect husband for Fanny.

  On Thursday morning Jonas arose early and stepped onto his bedroom balcony. Like an emperor inspecting his kingdom, he surveyed the perfectly manicured gardens below. Jonas performed the daily ritual except during foul weather. And Rochester had its share of foul weather. Not as dire as Buffalo. But what city’s weather could compare to that of Buffalo—or wanted to, for that matter. He inhaled a vigorous breath of fresh air and promptly returned indoors.

  Giving special attention to his attire, he chose a pinstripe suit with matching vest. The suit had been delivered by his tailor only three weeks earlier. These were young men who should recognize quality and detail at every quarter, and Jonas wouldn’t disappoint them. After his usual breakfast of coddled eggs and fresh biscuits, he stepped into his carriage. As was his custom, Jonas entered his office at precisely eight o’clock and was greeted by Mr. Fryer, his office clerk for the past fifteen years.

  By now Mr. Fryer knew Jonas’s preferences, and few words were necessary between them. A fresh pitcher of water and glasses had been placed on the table, the mail had been opened and arranged in order of importance, and a neatly written list of the day’s appointments rested atop the mail. Behind the closed door, Jonas perused his mail and silently practiced the speech he would give to each of the young men.

  At exactly nine o’clock, a knock sounded on his door. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Frank Colgan to see you, sir.”

  “Please show him in.”

  Jonas stood behind his desk and extended his hand to the young man who followed Mr. Fryer into the office. “Jonas Broadmoor,” he said while evaluating the strength of Mr. Colgan’s grasp.

  “Frank Colgan. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Broadmoor. I hear good things about you.”

  “Do you?” Jonas signaled for the man to sit. “Such as?”

  Colgan’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “You said you hear good things about me. I wondered exactly what you’ve been told.”

  The young man stammered, “That you’re an influential member of the community, and ah—”

  “A free bit of advice for you, Mr. Colgan: I don’t appreciate hollow flattery.”

  Mr. Colgan’s complexion paled. “I do apologize.”

  “Accepted. Now, let’s move on. I’m sure you’re wondering exactly why I’ve asked you to come to my office. I’ll come right to the point.”

  Jonas explained his plan to find the perfect husband for his niece: a man willing to follow direction and refrain from gossip, an intelligent man of good social standing, a man willing to live a life of ease with his niece, a man willing to grant Jonas permission to continue handling his niece’s inheritance. “Does my proposal interest you, Mr. Colgan?”

  Frank squirmed in his chair. “Is she quite homely or disfigured? Is that the reason for this arrangement, Mr. Broadmoor?”

  Jonas laughed. “On the contrary, she is a lovely girl, but I suppose there are those who might consider her somewhat plain. A bit strong-willed perhaps but well educated, a fine figure, and capable of running a household.”

  “In that case, when shall we be wed?”

  “Not so fast. If you agree to all of the terms, you will be one of several young men who will vie for my niece’s affections. You see, this arrangement between us is to be kept secret. Once Fanny makes her choice—whether she chooses you or not—you will be paid a handsome sum . . . if and only if you play by all of the rules I’ve set forth. In the event you mention this arrangement to anyone, I will deny any knowledge of having met with you, and you will receive nothing from me.” Jonas leaned across his desk. “And should you betray me, you will face great difficulty being accepted in proper social circles or securing meaningful employment.”

  Frank rubbed his jaw. “And you’re making this proposal to all of the men who will meet your niece?”

  “I didn’t say that, Mr. Colgan. You may be the only person to whom I make this offer. On the other hand, I may have this conversation with all of the men who court my niece. You won’t know. But if another suitor should mention he has spoken to me, it would behoove you to report his conduct to me. That man will be removed as a possibility.” Jonas leaned back in his chair. “Well? What say you, Mr. Colgan? Are you interested in competing for a life of luxury?”

  “It appears I have nothing to lose. Even if your niece chooses someone else, I’ll be paid a handsome sum.”

  “Exactly right.”

  This young man would make a perfect candidate. If he didn’t think he had anything to lose by participating in this venture, Frank Colgan would be easily manipulated. Jonas extended an invitation for a weekend visit to Broadmoor Island, and Mr. Colgan
readily accepted.

  Jonas closed his office door and walked to the window. He removed his pocket watch and checked the time: exactly one hour had passed from the time Frank had entered his office until Jonas watched him hail a cab. Tucking the watch into his pocket, he returned to his desk. One interview completed and three to go. If the remainder of the appointments went as smoothly as this one, he would be most pleased.

  14

  Friday, July 23, 1897

  Broadmoor Island

  Fanny pulled a brush through Amanda’s thick blond hair. Amanda’s golden mane fanned across her shoulders like a luxurious cape. Though Fanny tried her best not to envy her cousins, she couldn’t help but compare her own bushy auburn curls to Sophie’s shining tresses or Amanda’s flawless locks. Fanny pinned a loop of her cousin’s blond hair into place.

  “I don’t like the way you placed that curl.” Sprawled across the bed in a most unladylike position, Sophie pointed to the side of Amanda’s head. “It should be lower, over on the side.”

  Initially Fanny followed Sophie’s instruction but then moved the curl back to its previous position. “You’re wrong. It looks better here.”

  Sophie flopped onto her side and rested her chin in her palm. “Hairstyles have changed, Fanny.” She watched a moment longer and then jumped up from the bed. “Let me do it.”

  Fanny willingly relinquished the brush and walked to the bedroom window. From her vantage point, she could see Michael leaning over the skiff pulling a string of fish from inside the boat. A successful day of fishing! She wished she could have been with him.

  “What do you see down there?” Sophie asked.

  Fanny didn’t want to turn away from the window for fear Michael would disappear. “Nothing.”

  “You’re far too intrigued for there to be nothing down there.” Fanny didn’t hear Sophie approach. “I see! It’s Michael you’re watching. Whether you want to admit it to us or not, I know you have feelings for him.”