An Unexpected Love (6 page)

“Your behavior is objectionable, Sophie. You need to conduct yourself in a ladylike fashion. You’ve danced with one stranger after another without any thought for your reputation. Surely you must realize what those men are thinking of you.”

She glowered at him. His pompous attitude was enough to set her on edge. For a moment she considered tromping on his foot. “They think I am a lady who enjoys life—when dancing with them. I can’t say the same at the moment.”

“Am I not holding you closely enough? Is that the problem?”

“No! The problem is that I detest your criticism. I receive enough censure from my elders, and I don’t appreciate it from a man who is neither my escort nor a family member.” She sighed when the music stopped. “Thankfully, our dance has come to an end.”

“Before she returned to her cabin, your aunt requested I escort you back to our table.”

“Aunt Victoria has already retired for the night?” A sense of elation filled her soul. At least she’d have one less pair of eyes watching her that evening.

“Your aunt seemed to think the rich meal and the increased movement of the ship contributed to her distress. I imagine she will be fine by morning.” He led her to a chair adjacent to his mother.

Sophie dropped beside the older woman with a thud and folded her arms across her waist to emphasize her dissatisfaction. Paul didn’t appear to care in the least.

“You seem unhappy, my dear,” Mrs. Medford said.

“Your son acts as though I am a child still in need of a parent’s guidance.” Sophie glared at Paul.

“And you act like a—”

“Paul, I would appreciate something cool to drink. Refreshments are offered at the other end of the room.” Mrs. Medford nodded toward the tables laden with sumptuous treats and a punch bowl on either end. “I would greatly appreciate a cup. No doubt Sophie would enjoy one, also.”

“No doubt! After dancing with every man in the attendance, I’m certain she’s quite thirsty.”

“I did not ask for your opinion, Paul. I merely requested two cups of punch.”

Sophie grinned, reveling in the moment. It had given her great pleasure to see Paul’s mother correct his behavior. And Sophie didn’t fail to note that he didn’t appear to accept correction any more than she did.

Once Paul had disappeared into the crowd, Mrs. Medford returned her attention to Sophie. “Now, what was it you were telling me, dear?”

“I dislike the way Paul interferes in my life. He thinks I need his guidance.” Sophie looked heavenward. “I plan to have fun, and the last thing I want is someone telling me how to behave.”

“I know you may not believe me now, but one day you will realize there is much more to life than fun, Sophie.” The older woman’s eyes shone with kindness, and she patted Sophie’s hand. “No matter our age, all of us need guidance from time to time, even an old woman such as me.”

Sophie dropped back in her chair. “Your mother still requires you to follow her rules?”

With a gentle laugh, the older woman shook her head. “No, but I do attempt to live by the conventions my parents taught me. More importantly, I do my best to live by the rules God has put in place for all of us.” Her tone exuded warmth rather than condemnation.

The topic of God and His rules caused Sophie to squirm a bit. She didn’t care to dwell upon what God might think of her behavior, for if it aligned with the thoughts of other authority figures in her life, she’d be considered a heathen.

“As for Paul’s behavior, I believe he is simply attempting to protect you from possible harm. Right or wrong, we are judged by our behavior, and Paul appears concerned about your reputation.”

“Paul need not worry himself over my reputation. I can—”

“Well, someone needs to, for you’re doing nothing to protect your family name or your own character,” Paul interjected. He placed two cups of punch on the table.

His words stung, and Sophie pushed away from the table. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Medford. I don’t believe you or your son should be seen in my company.” Sophie stood and grasped several folds of her silk gown in one hand before drawing near to Paul. “I wouldn’t want to besmirch your fine name, Paul.”

She turned on her heel and hastened across the room in search of Amanda and Fanny. Neither was on the dance floor, and she hadn’t seen them since much earlier in the evening. While silently chiding herself for not keeping a closer watch, she strolled onto the deck. She’d nearly given up hope of finding them when she heard a hissing whisper.

“Over here, Sophie!”

She strained to see in the darkness and nearly tripped on a deck chair. “Is that you, Fanny?”

“Yes. And Amanda, too.”

Sophie peered into the darkened space they’d created for themselves behind several deck chairs and a small table. They had draped a piece of tarp or blanket, she couldn’t be certain which, to help conceal their whereabouts. Careful to hold her skirts close to keep the fabric from snagging on one of the wooden deck chairs, Sophie wended her way to their makeshift hideaway. “What are you two doing back here?”

“Fanny is trying to avoid Daniel while I do my best to maintain a proper lookout,” Amanda said.

“Do come out of there. I don’t want to ruin my dress or my coiffure. Moreover, we shouldn’t be required to hide. We’re supposed to be having fun.” Sophie motioned them toward the railing. The moon cast a shimmering light upon the water as the ship cut through the ocean, leaving a wide trail of white foam in its wake.

“You appear to be annoyed,” Amanda said. “Did one of those young men escape without asking you for a dance?”

Sophie flicked her fan on Amanda’s arm. “No need for barbed remarks. Paul has already delivered far too many for one evening. That man is a total bore!” She stood on tiptoe, leaned over the railing, peered into the water, and giggled. “Perhaps the two of you could help me toss him overboard.”

Amanda’s lips parted and formed a wide oval.

“I’m merely jesting. However, I would be most appreciative if you would keep Paul out of my hair for the remainder of the evening.”

Amanda glanced back and forth between her cousins. “Fanny wants me to keep Daniel out of her hair; now I’m to keep Paul out of yours. And here I stand with not one man interested in me or my hair.” She sighed. “Come along, Cousins. I’ll do my best.”

Paul’s mother smiled and reached out to pat his hand. “I know you are worried about her, but sometimes you have to let matters go.”

“She’s going to get hurt,” he replied.

“That is a great possibility.”

He met his mother’s sympathetic expression. “I shouldn’t care, but I do. Sophie may seem hard and indifferent, but she’s hurting.”

His mother nodded. “I know, and you are very sensitive to that wound.”

“I see the way her father acts around her. He’s hurting, too. Losing his wife caused him great grief. Unfortunately, in dealing with it, he’s pushed away all his loved ones and focused instead on the Home for the Friendless.”

“It’s sometimes easier to expend your energy on strangers. You don’t come to expect anything from them like you do family. When family disappoints you, it cuts deep. Your Mr. Broadmoor is no doubt afraid of his feelings—even those he has for his daughter.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Paul said, staring across the room at the blur of dancing couples. “I only hope it doesn’t result in causing him even more pain. Sophie is strong willed and daring. There’s no telling what she’ll do in order to get the love and attention she’s so desperate to have. I just feel that in her father’s absence, I should do what I can to keep bad things from happening to her.”

Mother shook her head. “You cannot keep those you care about from pain. Sometimes it’s necessary in order to mature. Sophie may well have to face some bitter trials before she fully understands what life is all about.” She squeezed his hand. “You will most likely face them, as well.”

4

Monday, November 1, 1897
Rochester, New York

Jonas shrugged into his topcoat and removed his hat from the walnut hall tree in the corner of his office. He silently chided himself, for he disliked being late. He’d be hard-pressed to make it to the men’s club on time today, though he doubted his lawyer, Mortimer Fillmore, would mind the delay. He would likely imbibe a glass or two of port while he waited. Another reason Jonas must hurry! The old lawyer couldn’t seem to stop with only one glass. After two or three, he couldn’t follow the conversation, and after four, he fell asleep. The behavior was argument enough for Jonas to retain another lawyer, but there was no one he trusted like Mortimer.

Unfortunately, Mortimer’s son and law partner, Vincent, held to a higher ethical code than his father. Jonas and Mortimer thought alike—they were cut from the same cloth, so to speak. Both were willing to use any means to achieve personal financial gain. As long as the proposition ended with a hefty increase in their bank accounts, Jonas and Mortimer cared not a whit if others met with monetary ruination. It was, after all, the American way. Each man could be king in his own way if he was willing to take chances and defeat those who would see him cast under. All great fortunes had been made that way, and Jonas could see no reason to alter a course that hundreds of well-bred men had journeyed before him.

Today Jonas needed Mortimer to be sharp-witted because, following their private lunch, the two would meet with Judge Webster, a situation that worried Jonas. On the ride to the men’s club he did his best to convince himself all would go well. After all, Mortimer understood the import of today’s meeting. The lawyer would not do anything to jeopardize this crucial discussion with the judge. Stepping down from the carriage, Jonas withdrew his pocket watch and snapped open the lid. A full half hour late. The moment he entered the building, he scanned the area for his old friend. It didn’t take long to locate him. He had selected a table in close proximity to the bar rather than one in the formal dining room.

Another man sat at the table with his back toward the entrance. Jonas narrowed his eyes and strained to make out the figure. As he approached the table, he shuddered. William Snodgrass! The banker was engrossed in a heated conversation with Mortimer. Jonas must find some way to get rid of him, for they were already pressed for time.

Though the sight of Snodgrass annoyed him, Jonas determined to speak in a cheerful voice. He would accomplish little with anger. “Mortimer! I apologize for my delay. I see you’ve located someone to help you pass the time while you waited on me.” He extended his arm and shook hands with William. “Good to see you, William. I was detained at the office and now find myself late for my meeting with Mortimer.”

William pointed to a chair. “Sit down and join us. Mortimer tells me your family is off to England.” He jabbed an arthritic finger at Jonas. “I hope they won’t further deplete your bank account. Perhaps you should have gone along to ensure they don’t spend all your money.”

“I plan to join them once I conclude a pressing business matter that holds me in Rochester. In fact, that’s why I scheduled this meeting with Mortimer.”

William rested his arm on the table. “Then I’m glad I joined Mortimer. I imagine I can be of some help, too.” He signaled for a waiter. “Why don’t we order something to eat? I always think better on a full stomach.”

Jonas glanced across the table. Mortimer had obviously had more than two glasses of port, for his eyelids had dropped to half-mast. If Jonas didn’t do something, his lawyer would soon be snoring. Unable to think of any other immediate remedy, Jonas slapped his palm on the table.

The table shook, the glasses rattled, and Mortimer jumped as though he’d been shot. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Mortimer rubbed his forehead, clearly dismayed.

“I was expressing my anger over being late. William would like to join us for lunch, but with my late arrival, we don’t have sufficient time. I do apologize to both of you.” Jonas nudged Mortimer’s knee, hoping the lawyer would take his cue. When he failed to respond, Jonas pushed away from the table. “Come along, Mortimer. We don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“What? Late?” He looked at the clock and shook his head. “We have plenty of time before we meet with Judge Webster.”

William raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Judge Webster?” He leaned a little closer to Jonas. “Have you gone and gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?”

Glances came from several nearby tables, for William’s “whispered” words were akin to a shout. Jonas glared at Mortimer, who returned a glassy-eyed stare. “No. This is merely a business meeting regarding some, uh, some investments.”

“Right. Investments,” Mortimer repeated. “I think I’d like another glass of port.”

“There will be no more port. We must be on our way.”

William clasped Jonas’s wrist with his bony fingers. “Now, wait a moment, Jonas. As your banker, I believe I can add valuable insight about investments. Why don’t we order lunch, and the three of us can discuss this matter before you meet with the judge. Who, I might add, has very little business sense. I don’t know why you’re meeting with him.”

“Please keep your voice down, William. I don’t want everyone in the club to know my business.”

The old banker grinned. “Afraid they’ll overhear us and attempt to intrude upon your latest venture?”

Jonas tugged at his collar. “One can never be too careful. You know that.”

“Yet you’re willing to include Judge Webster in your scheme. Why not the man who’s been your banker for years?”

“If our venture succeeds, I promise to deposit a portion of the funds in your bank.” Jonas hoped his promise would be enough to hold the banker at bay. Right now Jonas wanted to escape the old man and his prying questions.

William motioned to a waiter. “I still believe we have sufficient time for lunch. And I want to hear more about this new undertaking of yours.”

Jonas was losing patience. How could William possibly know if they had sufficient time to dine? He didn’t even know when they were due to meet with the judge—unless Mortimer had confided that information, also. “As I said earlier, I’d like nothing more than a quiet lunch. But perhaps later in the week?” Jonas stood and tapped Mortimer on the shoulder.