“Still, I don’t know what good purpose you think is served by bringing me this message. Did you never speak to my mother again? And what of my father? Did he know?”
Mr. Morrison folded his hands and rested them on his knees. “Your mother and I did not see each other again. As you read in her letter, she requested that I never contact her, and I honored her wish. I thought it best for all of you. But now, with Winifred and Langley deceased and my poor health—I thought you deserved to hear the truth.”
“I believe you cared more about clearing your own conscience before you met the Almighty, Mr. Morrison.” Her aunt pointed at the man’s chest. “You gave little thought to the damage your careless actions would cause this young woman.”
“That’s not true, Mrs. Broadmoor. I want nothing but the very best for Frances. It was for that reason I never interfered in her life until now. I stand to gain nothing by divulging the truth, and surely one more person to love her is not a bad thing.”
Jonas stepped away from the fireplace. “We all need time to digest this information, Mr. Morrison. May I suggest the New Frontenac Hotel on Round Island if you wish accommodations for the remainder of the weekend?”
Mr. Morrison stood. “If you care to discuss the matter further— any of you, I will remain at the hotel until the first of the week.” He smiled at Fanny. “I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance. You are a lovely young lady.”
25
The remainder of the day was chaotic: a mixture of pitying stares, curious children, and unanswered questions.
When nightfall arrived, Fanny was pleased for the cover of darkness that could hide her tears. There had been little time to think on her situation, but now that the family had picnicked, searched for treasure, and watched the fireworks, there would be ample time. She watched as children were herded off toward the house and wondered if she’d ever again spend a summer on this island. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she brushed it away.
“There you are! Sophie and I have been looking everywhere. Why are you off by yourself?” Amanda asked as she settled on the grass beside her.
“I’m attempting to sift through what has happened to me. One minute I was surrounded by a huge family of people I love, and the next minute I was told that none of you are even related to me.” She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket. “Can you even begin to imagine how that must feel? I’ve been set adrift. To think that the two of you are not my cousins is impossible.”
Amanda enveloped her in a warm embrace. “That letter doesn’t change our love for you. We shall always be the dearest of cousins. Do you think that after all these years of love and friendship, Sophie and I could simply walk away from you?”
Sophie plopped down beside them. “Personally, I’m quite hurt that you would even consider such a thing, Fanny.” She giggled. “After all, it takes both of you to keep me on the right path.”
“And even then we fail,” Amanda remarked. “You know we’ll never allow anything to come between us and ruin our friendship, don’t you?”
“I know you’ll try your best. But our lives are bound to change. I just don’t know how much, and I’m frightened.”
“Then maybe you need to face your fears head on and find out.” Sophie pointed toward the boathouse. “The three of us could have Mr. Atwell take us over to the hotel and you could talk to Mr. Morrison. It’s not too late. Sitting here in the dark and worrying isn’t going to resolve anything. We need to take some positive action.”
“I’m not certain that’s the correct manner to handle this. I think you should wait until morning when you’ve had a night of rest and can think more clearly,” Amanda said.
“Don’t be silly, Amanda. She’s not going to sleep when her thoughts are stirring like a paddle churning cream.”
“That’s what I love about you two. You couldn’t be further apart in how you think.”
“And you’re our balance, Fanny. You always bring us back and center our thoughts.” Amanda squeezed her shoulder. “However, this time I’m correct. I don’t think we should do anything until morning.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you, Amanda. Come morning, the entire family will be offering their ideas of what I should do. Sophie’s correct: I need to gather more information from Mr. Morrison.” She stood and smiled down at them. “Either of you want to come along?”
Jonas puffed on his cigar. “The family seemed to enjoy the day of festivities, don’t you think?”
Quincy nodded. “Had it not been for Mr. Morrison’s unexpected news, the day would have been a grand event. His visit certainly put a damper on things.”
Jonas flicked the ash from his cigar. “True, but the family seemed to recover by afternoon’s end. They were in high spirits during the fireworks display. And I don’t believe the treasure hunt could have been any more fun for the youngsters.”
“I’m having difficulty digesting the truth of what Morrison revealed. It’s difficult to believe that Winifred would have gone to her grave with such a secret. She and Langley were such a devoted couple.”
“Who knows? She may have told him. If you’ll recall, our brother wasn’t prone to confiding in either one of us. He adored Fanny. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t have wanted to cause the girl embarrassment—losing her good name and social position.”
Quincy frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that issue. Indeed, she will suffer if people no longer consider her a Broadmoor. Fanny’s name will be crossed off every dowager’s social directory, and her situation will become the latest item of gossip at their parties.”
“Sad but true. To be accepted, it takes both name and money.”
“Hmm. And what about the money?” Quincy asked. “What does all of this mean in regard to Father’s estate? It would seem that Fanny will be excluded from receiving Langley’s one-third portion, does it not?”
“I hadn’t even thought about the inheritance issue.” The lie crossed his lips with ease. “I’ll check into the matter with Mortimer or Vincent after we return to Rochester. I’m certain they can offer sagacious advice on how we must proceed. The girl is already suffering dearly.”
“Oh, of course, of course,” Quincy agreed. “I wasn’t suggesting we immediately inform her of the dismal future that may await her. Sad that she may be solely reliant upon Mr. Morrison for her well-being.”
Jonas snuffed out his cigar and nodded. “Very sad, indeed.”
“Then again, the two of us could offer her aid. She has, after all, been reared as a member of this family her entire life. If you thought it best, I believe I could see my way clear to help her when I receive my inheritance.” Quincy leaned forward and rested his arms across his thighs. “It would be the charitable thing to do. Of course I couldn’t let my children know. Other than Sophie, they would be livid—especially since I plan to invest most of the money in the Home for the Friendless.”
Jonas shook his head. “That is not an investment. You will never see any return on your money, so quit referring to it as such. As for continuing to financially support the girl, I’m not so sure. There might be legal ramifications involved with that idea. We had best rely upon Mortimer and Vincent. We wouldn’t want to act in haste and then be required to withdraw our offer. Such behavior would only cause the girl further distress. If they approve, then we will discuss the matter further.”
“Very thoughtful, Jonas. I wouldn’t want to cause her any additional anguish. I’m certain both Father and Mother would have wanted us to do something to help. They did, after all, consider her more a daughter than a grandchild.”
Quincy had taken the conversation into another realm, one that Jonas didn’t want to explore with his brother. He had merely wanted to draw Quincy’s attention to the fact that Fanny would no longer inherit. Now his brother wanted to support the girl. If he didn’t turn the conversation, Quincy would likely suggest they simply forget Harold Morrison’s arrival and give her one-third of the estate.
“You are most thought
ful, but let’s remember that Fanny has already received more direct monetary aid from Mother and Father than any of our children. And remember that Father was a strong believer in the Broadmoor bloodline.”
“True enough.” Quincy pressed his hands on his thighs and stood. “I believe I’ll retire to my room. I have some paper work that needs my attention before going to bed. I’ll rely upon you to speak with the lawyers and settle these troubling issues.”
“Rest assured that I will take care of everything.” Jonas smiled and bid his brother good-night.
Mortimer Fillmore would be surprised to hear how easily Jonas’s plan had come together. There might be a few legal issues to overcome, but that’s why Jonas retained a wily lawyer. Mortimer and Vincent should easily prevail in any possible legal battles. He walked to the edge of the veranda and inhaled the clear evening air. This had been an excellent day. He would sleep well tonight.
Michael’s father didn’t question the girls. It wasn’t proper for an employee to question family members regarding their decisions. But Fanny had seen the question in his eyes when she asked him to take her to Round Island. He’d appeared even more concerned when he saw Sophie was to be her companion. Amanda had declined, although before Sophie and Fanny departed, she agreed to conceal their whereabouts if someone should discover they weren’t in their rooms.
“Just say that Fanny convinced me to go night fishing with her,” Sophie had instructed.
Fanny didn’t know if anyone would believe that lie. Sophie wouldn’t even go fishing during the daylight hours. They could only hope no one would realize they’d left the island.
“What if he’s already gone to bed for the night?” Fanny whispered as the boat slid across the dark water. A knot the size of a grapefruit had taken up residence in her stomach. One part of her wanted to ask Mr. Morrison questions, but the other part wanted to hurry back to Broadmoor Island, rush upstairs to her room, and bury her head beneath the covers. Perhaps she would awaken and discover this had all been a nightmare.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Fanny. He’s staying at the liveliest hotel on the islands. You’ll probably find him sitting on the veranda with a glass of port and a cigar, considering all that has occurred today.”
Mr. Atwell docked the boat a short time later and assisted them onto the pier. “Shall I wait for you ladies?”
Fanny blinked. “Yes, of course. We should return within an hour.” She waited until they were out of hearing distance. “Why did he ask if he should wait, Sophie? Do you sometimes spend the night over here?”
“On one or two occasions I stayed with the parents of friends from school who were staying at the hotel.” Sophie made no apology for her behavior. She seldom judged others and didn’t seem to care what others thought of her. There evidently was nothing that frightened Sophie.
They walked side by side toward the bright lights of the hotel. “What if this had happened to you, Sophie? How would you feel?”
“I don’t know. I would feel betrayed, naturally, but at least Uncle Jonas won’t be able to tell you what to do in the future.” She grinned. “Then again, Mr. Morrison may be even worse.”
Fanny shuddered. She hadn’t considered that Mr. Morrison might be a cruel or unkind man. He had seemed quite nice when they talked earlier in the day. But anyone could appear gentle and kind for short periods. Perhaps she could remain with the family until her birthday; then she’d have her inheritance and could move out on her own. Or could she? Nothing had been said about whether she would be entitled to the money her grandfather had bequeathed to her. But he wasn’t really her grandfather anymore, so what would that mean now?
No need asking Sophie, for she wouldn’t know, either. If her talk with Mr. Morrison went well, perhaps she would ask him. Uncle Jonas had mentioned Mr. Morrison was a businessman. Surely he would have some idea how such matters were settled.
“There he is!” Sophie elbowed Fanny and then pointed toward the open-air seating. “Over in the courtyard with the woman in the rose and beige gown.”
Mr. Morrison had spotted them. He briefly spoke to the woman and then rose from his chair. Sophie tapped her foot as music began to play in the other room. She edged toward the entertaining sounds. “I’ll be in there when you’re ready to go home.” Fanny wanted to grab her hand and beg her to remain, but Sophie no doubt sensed the conversation with Mr. Morrison should be private.
The woman didn’t turn around. Was she Mrs. Morrison? He hadn’t revealed if he had a wife or children. Children. She might have sisters and brothers she had never met. The thought was both exciting and disagreeable. What if they disliked her? And what of his wife? What did she think of all of this—if that was, indeed, his wife. She would inquire.
“Frances. This is a surprise. I had hoped for time alone in a neutral setting where we might speak freely, but I hadn’t expected you this evening.” He looked through the archway at the huge clock in the lobby. “I’m surprised you are out so late.”
His look was filled with concern, but he didn’t chastise her imprudent behavior.
“Shall we sit over here where it is a bit less noisy?”
She evaluated his every feature and nuance, searching for something recognizable, some connection to herself. But nothing about this man’s appearance was familiar—not the tilt of his head, the curve of his lips, or the slant of his eyes. And though his mannerisms were those of a sophisticated, well-educated gentleman, they were dissimilar to a Broadmoor’s. She hadn’t arrived with high expectations, but she had hoped to discover some connection to this man who claimed to be her father.
They sat side by side. Father and daughter. Perfect strangers. The thought overwhelmed her. She grasped the arm of the settee. This would seem no more than an illusion if she didn’t hold on to something tangible.
“The woman you were sitting with when I arrived—is she your wife?”
“Yes. I thought it would be better if the two of us became better acquainted before you meet her. She is a forgiving woman. Although I don’t deserve her kindness, she came along to offer me moral support.” He folded his hands in his lap. “You may be surprised to hear that this has been very difficult for me also.” His smile was gentle. “Nothing in comparison to your experience, of course.”
“Has she always known? Your wife, I mean. Did you tell her about my mother and you before the two of you married?”
“No. We’ve had this discussion only recently.” He stared at the floor. “She knew nothing of your existence.” He looked up at her. “I hope it doesn’t hurt you to hear me say that. I fear I’ve already caused you a great deal of pain.”
“I believe the act of clearing one’s conscience can be a very selfish act. While it helps the offender, it often inflicts pain on others. I have a married friend back in Rochester. After a year of marriage her husband made admissions regarding his missteps outside their marriage vows. He felt cleansed and ready to begin anew, but his confession cut her to the depth of her soul. I doubt whether she’ll ever recover.”
“So you think it would have been better if he continued to live a lie and had never told her?”
Fanny shrugged. “Who am I to say? I do know that his confession didn’t help their marriage. My friend is most unhappy. If her husband had asked for God’s forgiveness, changed his ways, and lived with his secrets, I believe their marriage could have survived. Right now, I’m not certain what will happen. It’s most unfortunate that his struggle with conscience didn’t occur until after he had stepped outside of his marriage vows.”
“From what you’ve said, I can only assume you wish I hadn’t cleansed my conscience.”
“What purpose does all of this serve, Mr. Morrison? Your revelation has injured your wife, besmirched my mother’s name, and I’ve not yet counted all the consequences I will endure. Was revealing your secret so important at this late date?”
His eyes revealed the pain she’d inflicted with her words. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she wasn’t going t
o tell him she was pleased to have him waltz into her life and turn it upside down after seventeen years.
“My plan was ill-conceived. I truly regret having come forward— I shouldn’t have even considered such an idea. The damage I’ve caused you is irreparable, and I do apologize.”
She reached forward and touched his hand. “I didn’t mean to wound you, Mr. Morrison. Please . . . tell me about yourself. Do you have children? I mean other than . . .” She couldn’t complete the sentence. This man could not so easily supplant her father or his memory.
“No. Unfortunately my wife and I have no children. We had always hoped to have a child. My wife would have been an excellent mother. Why don’t you tell me about your life, Frances?”
“Fanny. No one uses my formal name—except in school, where the teachers always insist upon using my given name.”
“Then if you have no objection, I shall address you as Fanny, also. You had a happy childhood?”
“Oh yes.” Since Mr. Morrison had inquired, Fanny didn’t hesitate to tell him of the close bond she’d shared with her father—their love of fishing and nature and the many hours they’d spent together on Broadmoor Island and in the gardens at Rochester. She spoke of her beloved grandparents and the affection they’d showered upon her throughout the years. Mr. Morrison listened intently when she told him about her love for flower gardening and her special lilacs.
“My wife is an avid gardener, too,” he said. “I’m certain she would enjoy showing you her flowers someday.”
His offer was gentle, but Fanny didn’t want to see anyone else’s flowers. She wanted to return home and enjoy the Broadmoor gardens. “What can you tell me about my mother, Mr. Morrison? My father found it painful to speak about her, and my grandparents discouraged such questions. Consequently I know little of my mother.”
“Like you, she was very attractive, gentle spoken, and attempted to please others. She found it difficult to refuse my advances, for she disliked quarrels and arguments. I knew that and used it to my advantage. What occurred was totally my fault. I would never want you to think less of your mother. She was a truly wonderful woman.”
A Daughter's Inheritance Page 25
