A Surrendered Heart (11 page)

“Wake up, we’re here.” Fanny’s words were followed by a gentle nudge.

Amanda forced herself awake as the train hissed and jarred to a stop in the Clayton train station. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

Fanny smiled. “Dr. Carstead would say that you’ve proved his point and that you’ve not fully recuperated.”

“Well, he would be incorrect. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Amanda peered out the train window. “I suppose Father notified Mr. Atwell to come and meet us.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Or did you write to Michael’s parents?”

“I believe your father sent our arrival information to the Clayton telegraph office. He said Mr. Broomfield would pass along the information.”

Amanda didn’t doubt Mr. Broomfield would do exactly as her father wished. Years ago the old telegrapher had forgotten to deliver a message that her father had wired from Rochester for delivery to his father on Broadmoor Island. Mr. Broomfield had suffered the wrath of Jonas Broadmoor and had never again made the same mistake. She imagined if necessary, the poor man would row to the island to ensure that the message arrived.

A stiff breeze greeted them when they stepped down from the train. Amanda grasped her hat with one hand and pointed to the
DaisyBee
with the other. “There’s the boat. Mr. Atwell must be inside.”

Fanny locked arms with her cousin, and the two of them bowed their heads against the wind as they hurried inside the train station.

“Fanny! Amanda!” Sophie rushed forward and grabbed them around the shoulders in a giant hug. “I am so excited to see you. Now that the two of you have arrived, it’s going to be just like old times.”

Amanda took a backward step and glanced around the station. “Where’s the baby? I’m anxious to see how much she’s grown.”

“Elizabeth is with her nanny. Aunt Victoria found a wonderful lady who lives here in Clayton, and she’s come to stay at the island to take care of Elizabeth. Both Veda and Minnie complained they had too many other chores to accomplish now that there are so many parties taking place.” Sophie glanced outside and then motioned to her cousins. “Mr. Atwell has your trunks loaded. You’re both going to think it’s the height of the summer season once you get settled at the island. It is absolutely amazing how many dinner parties and dances have taken place since shortly after we arrived.” She winked at Amanda. “There are several fine bachelors among the attendees, and all of them are capable dance partners.”

Amanda shot a glance at Fanny. In the past Sophie had been unwilling to leave Elizabeth in the care of anyone but Paul or one of them. Now it appeared she’d relegated the baby’s care to a stranger. The change seemed inexplicable, but before Amanda could gauge Fanny’s reaction, Sophie stepped between them. She continued to regale them with the details of a dinner party she’d attended Saturday while they walked across the train tracks to the dock and boarded the
DaisyBee
.

When Sophie finally stopped long enough to take a breath, Amanda leaned forward. “What do you hear from Paul?”

“He says he’s busy helping several churches that are without preachers. He doesn’t know when he’ll be coming to the island for a visit.” Sophie shrugged. “I don’t mind in the least. There have been more than enough social gatherings to keep me occupied, and there are even more in the offing. Now that the two of you have arrived, it’s going to be completely grand.”

“I brought only two gowns that would be appropriate for such festivities,” Amanda said. “And you were complaining before you departed Rochester that you hadn’t been able to fit into your gowns since Elizabeth’s birth. Exactly what have you been wearing to all of these galas?”

“Your mother has been ever so kind in that regard. Once she realized the state of my wardrobe, she enlisted the help of a seamstress in Clayton. Thankfully, the woman has several others who work in the shop with her. Minnie and Veda have been called upon to lend occasional help, as well.” Sophie’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she told them of the various fabrics she’d chosen for her dresses.

“And with a nanny to care for Elizabeth, that leaves you free to attend as many parties as you desire,” Amanda remarked.

Sophie’s smile disappeared. “You disapprove?”

Amanda nodded. “I can’t comprehend the change that has taken place since I last saw you. Back in Rochester you were content with your life and found joy in your marriage to Paul and caring for Elizabeth. There was no mention of parties or fancy dresses. What has come over you?”

Sophie glared at Amanda. “You’re always finding fault with me—isn’t she, Fanny?”

“I don’t think that’s true. Unfortunately, what Amanda says is true. You do seem like a different person.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’ve only just arrived, and we shouldn’t have an argument before we even arrive at the island.”

Before Fanny could respond, Mr. Atwell waved an envelope overhead and smiled. “Would you be interested in what arrived just yesterday, Fanny?” he called.

Fanny clasped her hand over her heart. “A letter! From Michael?” She jumped to her feet and dropped back down as the boat lurched through the choppy water.

“Stay there,” he called. “I’ll bring it to you.”

With the ease of a practiced sea captain, Mr. Atwell arrived at her side and handed her the missive. “This one was tucked inside the letter he sent to us.” He pointed to the seal and grinned down at her. “As you can see, we didn’t open it.”

Fanny nodded. “He’s doing well?”

“I think you’ll be pleased to hear his news.” He tipped his hat and returned to his post.

She slipped her finger beneath the seal and carefully opened the envelope. She was now sandwiched between her cousins, who were peering over her shoulders as she withdrew the pages. Fanny waved them away. “Do move back a little. I promise to tell you what he says, but I’d like to read it first.”

Amanda leaned back, though she wasn’t certain Sophie paid heed to Fanny’s request. She waited what seemed an eternity before nudging her cousin. “Well, what does he say?”

The pages crackled as she held them to her bodice. “He’s coming home in June, and he says to plan the wedding.” Her broad smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “Finally! Can you believe it?”

Amanda shook her head. “No! He obviously doesn’t realize how long it takes to prepare for a wedding. We’ll need to begin immediately. I do think we should enlist Mother’s help, too.”

“You must choose the perfect wedding gown, Fanny. With all your money you’ll be able to afford the finest wedding Rochester has ever seen,” Sophie said.

“Michael and I plan to be married on Broadmoor Island,” Fanny told them. “Still, there will be much to accomplish before we are wed, and I will need help from both of you.”

“You know you can depend upon us,” Amanda said. She extended her fingers and the three of them joined hands. “Together always.” “Together always,” the three repeated in unison.

Jonas folded his hands atop his desk and did his best to remain calm. Ellert Jackson was a shrewd man, and he’d sniff out any hint of fear. Several days earlier Ellert had confirmed he would stop by and discuss the possibility of a loan. Jonas had expected him to appear that very day. When he hadn’t arrived by the next morning, Jonas had gone to the hotel and discovered Jackson had checked out. The news had rendered him despondent. But today his spirits had buoyed.

He’d received word that Ellert had returned to Rochester. And when the man had entered Jonas’s office only a few minutes ago, his heart had pounded with renewed hope. Ellert could help him escape from his financial woes, but Jonas must play his hand with finesse.

“I’m surprised to see you back in Rochester,” Jonas said.

Ellert guffawed. “You’re
relieved
to see me. Isn’t that what you truly mean, Jonas?” He didn’t await a reply. “They tell me at the hotel that you came looking for me after I’d checked out the last time I was in town.”

Jonas silently chided himself. He should have tipped the hotel clerk and told him to keep his mouth shut. Too late now. Ellert had gained first advantage in this game of cat and mouse. “Yes. I stopped by to extend an invitation to supper.”

Ellert tapped his walking stick on the floor. “You came to the hotel because you were worried I had forgotten about your loan.” He stared across the desk, his eyes unwavering.

There was no doubt Ellert expected Jonas to acknowledge his assessment was correct. Jonas could read it in his eyes. Though he longed to remain silent, Jonas didn’t hold the advantage. He gave a half nod. “Because I wanted to invite you to join me for supper and discuss the loan.”

Like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey, Ellert leaned across the desk. “You are in no position to play games with me, Jonas. I know what you’ve been up to with your niece’s inheritance.”

Jonas willed himself to remain calm, but perspiration covered his palms and a sudden weakness assailed him. He’d never fainted in his life. Was this how women felt when they swooned? He fought to bolster himself with a deep breath—and then another. How could Ellert possibly know what he’d done?

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Stop!” Ellert slapped his palm on the desk. “I will not play games with you. The only way you will receive a loan from me is on my terms. I know you are in dire financial straits. And my terms require a full disclosure of your finances and those of your niece.” He removed a sheet of paper from his pocket and pushed it across the desk. “This is only a small portion of what I know. If you want my help, you’ll tell me the rest—all of it.”

Jonas scanned the page and felt the blood rush from his head. Ellert had been digging, and he’d excavated far more information than Jonas would have thought possible.

“How did you come by this knowledge?”

Ellert smiled and crossed his arms casually against his chest. “Come now, Jonas. You above all men should know what a well-placed dollar or two can do for a man. I have my sources— friends, if you will. Surely you wouldn’t expect me to divulge such information.”

Jonas forced himself to concentrate. Who would have had access to the records? Possibly one of the clerks in Mortimer’s office had snooped in the files before his death. That had to be it. If only Mortimer would have done as instructed and kept no written documentation of their dealings. If only he would have realized the harm it could cause in the days to come.

Jonas dropped back against his chair and stared into Ellert’s gleaming eyes. The man was taking great pleasure in seeing him squirm. “It appears I have little choice,” Jonas said.

Ellert had won—at least this round.

10

Thursday, June 15, 1899

Jonas sighed at the sight of his brother entering the outer office. He should have closed his door and told Mr. Fryer to send any visitors on their way. Though he truly couldn’t afford the services of an office clerk any longer, Jonas couldn’t imagine his office without Mr. Fryer. The man had worked for him for nearly twenty years and could be trusted to do Jonas’s bidding without question, a trait that had long ago endeared the man to Jonas.

His brother nodded at Mr. Fryer but continued past the clerk’s desk and strode into Jonas’s office. “We need to talk.” He closed the door and dropped his hat atop Jonas’s massive desk before sitting down.

Jonas straightened in his chair. Without the slightest show of manners or greeting, his brother had entered his office and made himself quite comfortable. “Good morning to you, too, Quincy.”

“Good morning!” Quincy shot back.

Jonas didn’t miss the irritation in Quincy’s voice. “Looks as though we’re going to have some nice weather today.”

“I didn’t come here to discuss the weather. I came here to ask what you’ve done to aggrieve Fanny. I spoke with her shortly before she and Amanda departed for Broadmoor Island, and she wasn’t herself.”

“You know women. Their moods are as changeable as the weather—perhaps even more so.” He chuckled, though he gripped the arms of his chair in a fierce hold. What had Fanny been up to now? How much had she divulged to Quincy? His brother didn’t act as though he knew anything, but he’d not fall into a trap. “I have no idea why Fanny is upset. Did you not inquire yourself?”

“Yes, of course, but she wasn’t as forthcoming as I had hoped. She simply said someone had betrayed her.”

Jonas rubbed his jaw. “Probably that useless Michael Atwell. Let’s hope he’s found another woman and doesn’t plan to marry Fanny.”

“No. I specifically asked her about Michael. She denied he was the cause of her despair. Naturally I could only think something had gone amiss in regard to her inheritance.” Quincy arched his brows and waited.

Jonas shook his head and feigned ignorance for a moment before acting as though he’d had a sudden flash of genius. “She must be unhappy over the sale of Broadmoor Mansion—that must be what has caused her despondency.”

“What are you talking about? You sold the mansion to Daniel Irwin long ago.” Quincy frowned. “I’m beginning to worry about your memory, Jonas.”

“I did sell it to Daniel, but once Fanny refused to marry him, he no longer wanted the house. He petitioned the court to withdraw from the agreement and was granted permission.”

“Why didn’t I know anything about this?”

“If you’ll recall, you told me that unless the Home for the Friendless would be adversely impacted, you didn’t want to be bothered with matters related to the estate.”

“That’s true,” Quincy mumbled. “So you’ve sold the mansion to another purchaser?”

“Yes, but at a loss. The maintenance expense on the place was costing us more and more, so it was better to sell at a loss than continue the upkeep. The court agreed. Unfortunately, I think Fanny felt betrayed by my action.”

“Because she wanted to buy it for herself?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t permit a young single woman to live alone in that place. It wouldn’t be prudent or proper. I was looking out for her best interests, but you know how young people are—they simply want their way in everything.” Jonas loosened his grip on the chair arms. From all appearances, his efforts to convince Quincy were meeting with success.

“I wonder why she didn’t mention that. Selling the house doesn’t seem like something she’d be reluctant to tell me.”

There was a question lurking in his brother’s comment. Had he misjudged him? Did Quincy know more than he’d revealed? His confidence waned. Best to meet the situation with a direct question of his own. “Did Fanny mention me specifically or any problem she’s had with me?”

“No, but I assumed that since she’s been living in your house, you would be the cause of her unhappiness—or at least know what the problem might be.”

“Your assumptions are unfounded on both accounts. Fanny and I have had little contact over the last weeks. We didn’t take our meals together, and I saw her only in passing on one or two occasions. She didn’t appear unhappy or troubled on those brief encounters. And now that she’s left for Broadmoor Island with Amanda, I’m certain she’s in good spirits.”

Quincy leaned back in his chair and stared out the window as if contemplating the explanation. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I believe something of greater import than a change of mood has occurred with our Fanny.”

Our
Fanny. Jonas winced at the affectionate expression. When had Quincy become so worried about the girl’s welfare? And why? Normally he couldn’t be pried away from the Home for the Friendless long enough for a family gathering. Suddenly he sounded like a protective father rather than a disengaged uncle. Jonas needed to shift his brother’s focus.

“What do you hear from Sophie and Beatrice? In her most recent letter, Victoria mentioned that Beatrice seems to be out of sorts most of the time. Strange, don’t you think, since she was the one most interested in fleeing the city? Perhaps she’s suffering from some mental ailment and should see a physician.”

Quincy scooted to the edge of his chair. “Is that what Victoria thinks? If so, I shall ask Dr. Carstead if there’s a doctor he can recommend. Of course, Beatrice has always been somewhat antagonistic. I believe she bears a good deal of anger and jealousy, though I don’t know why.”

Jonas guffawed. “Truly? Perhaps because you devote all your time to everyone except your immediate family.”

“That’s not true. I’ve done my best since Marie’s death. Besides, Marie encouraged my work with the underprivileged.”

Pleased that he’d managed to redirect their conversation, Jonas didn’t retreat. “No one would disagree that Marie offered her support to your work. I never quite understood why, for it surely placed an undue burden upon your family, though there are many things I don’t profess to understand.”

Using the desk for leverage, Quincy pushed up from his chair. “I promised Dr. Carstead I would stop at the pharmacy. He’s likely wondering what happened to me.”

“Don’t let me keep you from your duties.” Jonas tapped the stack of papers on his desk. “I have many matters needing my attention, as well.”

Without further comment, Quincy picked up his hat and strode to the door. He waved his walking stick in a farewell gesture as he departed.

Jonas exhaled a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. By the time Quincy had exited the office, he’d clearly forgotten why he’d come calling. Jonas reached into his humidor and removed one of the two remaining cigars. He’d given up purchasing the expensive Cubans—a self-imposed punishment for being lax and overlooking details in his business dealings with Mortimer. He passed the roll of thick brown tobacco beneath his nose and inhaled the fragrant odor before returning it to the box. There wasn’t time to indulge at the moment.

He stood and looked down to the street below. Quincy was nowhere in sight. He’d likely departed by carriage. Jonas removed his hat from the hook by the door and stepped through the doorway. “I have errands to complete, Mr. Fryer. I’m not certain what time I’ll return.”

The clerk glanced up from his journal. “I’ll lock up if you haven’t returned by six o’clock, sir.”

Jonas could always depend upon Mr. Fryer. No matter the task, Mr. Fryer never asked questions. He faithfully appeared each morning and disappeared like a vapor ten hours later. Jonas had no idea if the man had a wife or family. They never discussed anything unrelated to business. Yet another reason Jonas was grateful for Mr. Fryer.

Jonas walked the four-block distance to the courthouse. By the time he rounded the side of the brick structure, he was puffing for air. He entered a side door that would take him through a private corridor that led directly to each of the judges’ chambers. It was Mortimer who had originally shown Jonas the entrance used by the lawyers to conduct business with the judges. The side door provided easy access. And if one was fortunate, one could slip in and out without ever being seen. Jonas hoped he could accomplish such an entrance and exit today.

Before rapping on the door, he glanced over his shoulder. Not a soul in sight. He sighed with relief and tapped on the door where the name
Harlan G. Webster, Probate Judge
had been painted in black. Proper etiquette dictated he await a response, but Jonas wouldn’t chance being seen, so he turned the knob and stepped inside. The clerk’s desk was empty. “Judge Webster?” Jonas called.

“Who’s there?” A drawer slammed. “Make yourself known!”

“It’s Jonas Broadmoor.” He crossed the room at a near run and stood in the doorway to the judge’s inner sanctum.

The judge traced his finger down a list on his desk. “I don’t have you on my calendar for today.”

“I don’t have an appointment, but it’s urgent that we talk. Can you spare me a few minutes right now?” Jonas felt like a sniveling child. Judges! They took absolute delight in wielding their power. A year or two ago, Jonas could have bought and sold every judge in the state. Now he was relegated to begging for a few minutes of this pompous man’s time.

Judge Webster waved at one of the threadbare upholstered chairs. “Sit down, but don’t get comfortable. I have another appointment in half an hour.”

Don’t get comfortable?
How did the foolish man think anyone could find a scrap of comfort in this shabby office? “There have been some problems since Mortimer’s death.”

“And?” The judge arched his bushy brows.

“Mortimer maintained far too many records of our business dealings regarding my father’s estate.” In a rush of words, Jonas detailed the plethora of events that had unfolded since his lawyer’s death. Judge Webster stared out the window, seemingly bored by the tale. When he had revealed all of the facts, Jonas edged forward on the chair. “Well, what do you think I should do?”

The judge shrugged his bony shoulders. “I suggest you get your books in order and hire an excellent lawyer to represent you.” His glasses slipped down on his nose as he leaned across the desk. “Mr. Rosenblume has already been here to meet with me on behalf of his client. He has expressed a deep concern for what he considers inappropriate handling of estate funds.”

Jonas grasped the judge’s thin arm. “You’re a part of this. You must help me.”

With a steely glare, the judge nodded toward his arm. “Remove your hold.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to—”

“Now, you listen carefully, Jonas. I am no longer a party to this. This plan was developed by you and Mortimer. I will deny any knowledge of what has transpired. I’ve already told Mr. Rosenblume I am shocked and appalled by the very idea that Mortimer, a lawyer sworn to uphold the law, may have presented falsified records to the court.”

Jonas slapped the desk with his palm. “That’s it! We can blame all of this on Mortimer, and both of us will be free from any liability. Frankly, it does appear Mortimer didn’t keep me completely apprised of matters, and my financial condition is much worse than even I had imagined.”

The judge didn’t appear completely convinced. Jonas would be forced to use his trump card. “I thought you might be interested to know that when I was reviewing the files, I came upon a note you wrote to Mortimer.”

The judge wrinkled his forehead in a frown. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

So the judge wanted to play coy and see if Jonas was bluffing. Well, he could certainly understand that tack. Hadn’t he done the same thing countless times? Jonas couldn’t fault the man for being suspicious.

Jonas tapped his pocket. “Your note tells Mortimer to deposit funds into an account at a Syracuse bank prior to the date of our hearing regarding the estate inventory and appraisal. Does that help jog your memory?”

The judge narrowed his eyes. “Mortimer told me all correspondence between us would be destroyed.”

Jonas took a modicum of pleasure watching the judge squirm. The old man didn’t appear quite so supercilious at the moment. “Obviously Mortimer lied to both of us.”

“I suppose there is merit to joining forces and placing all of the blame on Mortimer. If we both disavow knowledge of what he was doing, we should be able to avoid being drawn into the fray. The fact that your finances are in worse condition than you thought will help substantiate our claims to lack any knowledge regarding Mortimer’s wrongdoing.” The judge leaned back in his chair and stared into the distance. “Yes. This is perfect. Who will doubt us?”

“Then if we’ve agreed, I’ll be on my way. I don’t want to further interfere with your busy schedule.”

The judge pointed to Jonas’s pocket. “I would be grateful if you’d give me that note I wrote to Mortimer.”

Jonas withdrew an envelope from his coat pocket. “Oh,
this
? This is a letter from my wife. Surely you didn’t think I would carry your note on my person.”

The judge gripped his pencil with a fury that caused it to snap. He stared at the two pieces of wood as though he couldn’t determine how they’d come into his possession. “You may bring it to me the next time you pay me a visit.”

Jonas forced a smile. “Of course.” If the judge thought he would gain possession of that note before all of the legal proceedings had been completed, he was a fool. And Jonas didn’t think the man a fool. “I do hope the rest of your day passes without interruption.”

The judge’s obvious irritation created a warm feeling of self-satisfaction that lasted until he returned to his office. He settled at his desk and reviewed the ledgers and bank accounts. Their plan would cause little difficulty for the judge. But Jonas realized he would be faced with an onslaught of questions from both Quincy and Fanny. They would make prying inquiries that would require both precise and consistent responses. Before any of their questions arose, he must be prepared with answers that would nip any thought of wrongdoing in the bud. If he was to succeed in his ploy, he must appear shocked and surprised by Mortimer’s mishandling of the estate.