A Daughter's Inheritance (31 page)

Daniel glanced over his shoulder. “There’s no space near her, and I doubt she wants to stand.”

Jonas glowered. The young man had no resolve. Perhaps Fred Portman would have been a better choice for Fanny. First the difficulties with Frank, and now Daniel appeared to have little pluck. If Daniel didn’t step up and take command, Jonas would soon cross him from the list of possible candidates.

When the boat docked at Round Island, Jonas barred Fanny’s escape. “You don’t want to appear uncultured, Fanny. You need to wait for Daniel to assist you off the boat and escort you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking without assistance, and I’m sure no one cares if I enter the lobby of the hotel without an escort.”

Jonas touched her arm and shook his head. “Please remember our agreement, Fanny. I don’t think you want to cause me problems so early on, do you? I believe Michael would prefer to hear that you are behaving in a cooperative manner and honoring the terms of our agreement.” She clearly abhorred his interference, but he cared little.

Jonas waved Daniel forward. “I trust you will have no further problems this evening,” he whispered.

Although Jonas hadn’t been thrilled with the news, the Broadmoor women had been delighted that Charles Emery’s New Frontenac Hotel had been selected as the site for this year’s ball. The hotel had been remodeled and enlarged by Emery seven years earlier and now stood seven stories tall and boasted over four hundred rooms, each with its own electricity and bath. Many of the guests who attended the polo matches took rooms for the entire week preceding the games and would remain at the hotel until the festivities concluded.

Jonas viewed the size of the edifice as a detriment to keeping an eye on Fanny and Daniel. The girl would likely seize every opportunity to distance herself from her suitor. And there were ample places where she could conceal herself in a structure of this magnitude.

Colored lights shone upon the path, and banners and flags welcomed the guests. Those who weren’t attending the ball sat on the huge porch and watched the beautifully gowned women and the accompanying men in their formal attire as they ascended the steps to enter the center hallway. The pleasant sounds of a string quartet welcomed the guests, although dancing would not begin until after the grand march. Until then, Jonas hoped Daniel would keep Fanny at his side. He had wanted to help keep the girl in line, but his wife was intent upon greeting every person in the room—to discover who was wearing the most elaborate gown, he surmised.

Fortunately, their delay at the dock permitted Victoria only time enough to speak to a small number of the guests. The full orchestra soon took to the stage, and Charles Emery stepped forward and announced that the couples should prepare for the grand march.

Jonas craned his neck and finally spotted Fanny and Daniel. They were among the same group that had formed together earlier in the day. He did wish Daniel would force her out of that crowd. At this rate the man would never make any progress winning Fanny’s affections.

Arm in arm the couples slowly began the promenade. When Jonas and Victoria reached the front of the line, they stopped and faced the next couple moving down the row. The number of couples was daunting, and the promenade would likely take longer than he wished. He took a modicum of comfort from the realization that the misery of his counterparts equaled his own.

His smile disappeared when he looked down the line and saw Martha Benson clinging to Daniel’s arm. What was he doing with Martha? The fool was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Directly behind them, Fanny walked alongside Sanger Pullman. She beamed at her uncle as she walked past him. Well, he would see to her the minute the promenade ended.

“A word with you, Jonas.”

Jonas sucked in a deep breath and turned to greet George and Hattie Pullman. “Good evening. Good to see both of you.”

“Hattie had some concerns about the young man who escorted Martha Benson during the promenade,” Mr. Pullman stated. “I assured her there was no need for concern. Sanger told me the young man was your guest, and I knew he would be of reputable character and position if you welcomed him into your home.” He chuckled. “I’m right, aren’t I, Jonas?”

Jonas cleared his throat. “He’s a nice enough fellow . . .”

When her husband faltered in his response, Victoria added the words Hattie Pullman wanted to hear. “Rest assured that he is a fine young man or my husband wouldn’t consider him a possible suitor for any of the unmarried Broadmoor girls.”

Hattie nodded. “I didn’t want to insult you in any manner, but Emily Benson and I are dear friends, and I assured her I would confirm the young man’s credentials. We don’t want our daughters selecting young men who can’t keep them in the manner to which they’ve been accustomed. Don’t you agree, Victoria?”

“To a degree, though I think love can overcome many obstacles.”

Jonas laughed. “If you ever had to do without money, I believe you’d soon change your mind, my dear.”

George slapped Jonas on the shoulder and agreed with his assessment before leading his wife off to assuage Mrs. Benson’s fears. Fanny’s ploy to disobey him could cause more problems than even Jonas could handle.

He must develop another plan.

23

Wednesday, August 25, 1897
Rochester, New York

With his eyes closed, Jonas leaned back in his chair, determined to arrive at a solution that did not require Fanny’s cooperation. He’d accomplished nothing of substance since returning from the island. The weekend had been a complete disaster, and though he had originally planned to remain until Thursday, he departed Tuesday morning. He needed the solace of his office in order to arrive at some logical solution.

What to do? What to do?
The question flashed through his mind the next morning like a beacon in a lighthouse. He opened his eyes and pulled a sheet of paper from his desk drawer. He stared at what he’d written. Notes regarding Fanny, along with a few comments about Winifred and his brother—nothing that seemed to help. Jonas had never liked Winifred. She’d been a poor choice for his brother. He’d married beneath himself. She was nothing more than a companion to a very wealthy friend of his mother’s. A companion! Nothing more. And when she died in childbirth, Langley professed he could never love another. Had it not been for Winifred, Langley would still be alive.
Love!
His brother had taken his own life because he thought he couldn’t live without that woman.
Nonsense!
And it appeared their daughter was going to follow in their footsteps. Just like her parents, Fanny was determined to marry for love. Winifred had demonstrated the havoc a poor bloodline could wreak in a family.

His brother’s brief marriage had caused a myriad of difficulties. Jonas rubbed his cheek and attempted to remember exactly when they had wed. Victoria would remember, but he had no penchant for tracking such dates. He did recall Fanny’s birth had been premature. That’s right! His mother had been angered over the gossip that followed Winifred’s death. There had been whispered remarks that she had been pregnant prior to the wedding. His mother had countered the remarks, but rumors had persisted that perhaps this had been God’s punishment upon the young couple.

Langley had cared little what anyone said. Throughout the weeks and months following Winifred’s death, he could be found sitting beside her grave or with the infant. Jonas had been certain his brother would blame Fanny for Winifred’s death, but Langley had proved him wrong and loved Fanny. However, the child had never been enough to counter the depth of his grief.

Now Jonas wondered if those rumors and Fanny’s premature birth could work to his advantage. He smiled and folded the sheet of paper. If he could prove Fanny wasn’t Langley’s child, his problem would be solved. He would no longer need to worry about brokering a marriage and the possibility of a husband who might later turn obstinate, for Fanny wouldn’t be entitled to share in the Broadmoor estate. He rubbed his hands together and pushed up from his chair. Suddenly he was hungry.

There was a spring to Jonas’s step when he entered his men’s club for lunch. He greeted his fellow businessmen with an affable smile and cheerful hello. Both the conversation and companionship during the noonday meal bolstered his spirits. It wasn’t until he was preparing to depart that he spotted Harold Morrison at a distant table. The man had defaulted on his loan and had been avoiding Jonas.

Though not prone to loaning money, when Morrison had first approached him, Jonas had considered the loan to be a sound investment opportunity. Harold had promised a six-percent return on the money and prompt monthly payments. And although Jonas should have checked in to Harold’s assets more carefully, he’d thought there was little risk. The man had inherited his father’s burgeoning lumber business in Syracuse ten years prior and had planned to expand into Rochester and Buffalo.

The expansion had caused Morrison to become overextended, and he sought a large yet short-term loan. Jonas hadn’t asked to see his books or required any verification from Harold’s banker to ensure the man’s assets were secure. Pity that hadn’t been the case, and his failings were just one more issue that was slowly eroding Jonas’s financial security.

Recently Jonas had heard rumors that Harold could be found at the gaming tables at all hours. “Rather early in the day for whiskey, isn’t it?”

Harold started and turned. “Jonas! I’ve been meaning to stop by your office and speak with you.”

“Good! Let’s walk over there right now.”

Morrison glanced at the clock. “I have another meeting in a few minutes.”

“It will have to be delayed. I’ve been waiting three months for your payments. You haven’t responded to my correspondence or my calls. I don’t want to make a scene here in the club, Harold.”

With a look of resignation, Morrison pushed away from the table. “I suppose I can spare you a few minutes.”

They were silent during the brief walk to Jonas’s office. There was no need for small talk. Money would solve their problem, not idle chatter. And from all appearances, Jonas doubted he would receive any money from Harold—at least not anytime soon.

Once inside his office, Jonas pointed to a chair. “Sit down.” Jonas walked to the other side of his desk and dropped into his chair. He leaned back and fixed his eyes on the nervous man across the broad desk. “When you needed money, I couldn’t keep you away from my office door. Now that your payments are due, I can’t locate you. Explain yourself, Harold. You owe me at least that much.”

Harold stared at the floor. “I’ve come upon hard times. I can’t make the payments. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Look at me!” He waited until Harold met his gaze. “I want to know
why
you can’t make the payments and what you’re going to do about it. Repayment of my money has nothing do with rumors. You had no difficulty articulating your wishes when you approached me for the loan. Tell me exactly what has placed you in this precarious situation.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Jonas. I wanted to expand the business, but I had already amassed gambling debts when I borrowed from you. I used part of your money to pay off those debts and thought I could win back that amount with what I had left.”

“So my money was never invested in your business? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“If you’d loan me a few thousand, I could make it all back.”

“You’re pathetic, Harold. To knowingly jeopardize a business that has been in your family for years is abhorrent. I would think your father is rolling over in his grave.”

“I know.” Harold raked his fingers through his thinning hair. “I would do anything to extract myself from this situation, Jonas. Anything! I will be completely ruined if I can’t find someone to help me.”

“I would say your options are limited. No banker will lend you funds to pay off gaming debts, especially when you’ve already mortgaged your business beyond its worth. And me? Well, I’d be a fool to do such a thing, wouldn’t I? If those men you owe gambling debts don’t do you harm, I can have you thrown in jail for nonpayment of your liability to me.”

Harold slumped and buried his face in his hands. “Is there no help for me then? No way you can see your way clear to assist me?”

“You say you’ll do anything?”

Harold looked up. The man’s eyes shone with expectancy.

Jonas had hooked him with far greater ease than he could reel in a muskellunge from the St. Lawrence Seaway. Fortunately for Jonas, Harold didn’t have the fighting spirit of large game fish.

“Yes, anything. I can’t bear to bring any further shame upon my poor wife. If I can dispel the rumors and pay off my outstanding debts, my wife will be able to maintain her place in proper society. I owe her that much.”

Jonas didn’t hide his contempt for the man. “You owe
me
much more. If I have your word that you will do exactly what I tell you, I am willing to wipe the slate clean. I will return your note marked paid in full. In addition, I’ll give you a sum that should pay off your gambling debts. You will remain away from the gaming tables until our business is complete—no drinking, either. You’ll need a clear head if you’re to work for me.”

“Whatever you say, Jonas.”

The man would be like putty in his hands for the moment, but Jonas wondered if he would be so compliant once he learned what was expected of him. “I want you to visit our family on Broadmoor Island this weekend.”

“Oh, my wife will be delight—”

“Hear me out. This won’t be a social visit. You may recall that my brother Langley died a number of years ago. The two of you would be the same age.”

Harold nodded his head. “I met him at social functions on several occasions. Nice fellow, as I recall.”

“My brother’s wife, Winifred, died in childbirth. Their only child, Fanny, was under the care of my parents after Langley died. With my father’s recent death, Fanny has become my ward. As my brother’s only heir, Fanny will inherit a full share of the Broadmoor estate when she reaches her majority.” Jonas leaned across his desk. “Needless to say, I do not want that to occur.”