Dawn's Prelude (5 page)

Marston appeared ready to leap from the couch. “And neither should our father be obligated to that arrangement.”

“Your father isn’t obligated to that arrangement,” she countered. “However, my lawyer assures me that the terms of the wills must be abided by, and I intend to take his counsel. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a great deal to attend to.” She got to her feet, not at all surprised that Marston and Mitchell jumped up to stop her.

“This dispute is not resolved,” Mitchell protested.

She looked at him for a moment and nodded. “I am sure you are correct, but at this juncture, I can do nothing more. Mr. Robinson is the one to whom you should speak. He clearly has studied the wills and has approached the finest legal minds in the area for their counsel. I believe it would benefit you both to sit and discuss his findings at length with him.”

With that, she left both men gap-mouthed. She’d never seen any Gray man at a loss for words, but it was clear Mitchell and Marston were confused by her reaction. The prey had managed to escape to live another day.

“I don’t understand why this should be so difficult,” Marston began. Nash Sterling seemed to wilt a bit in his chair. “We’ve bought off people before.”

“That was before the politics of the town shifted. You know how hard it has been these last few years. Your father was always ranting . . .” He paused, as if realizing he was about to say something completely inappropriate. “Well, you know how it angered him. Anyway, all of that to say, there is little I can do. No one is willing to risk the wrath of those in charge.”

“Cowards,” Mitchell declared.

“Be that as it may,” Sterling said, “it is what we are up against. We can tie things up for a while—have the legal documents reviewed and assessed for any inconsistencies. But in the end, I believe the result will be the same.”

“All right. So if it can’t be done legally,” Marston began, “perhaps we can do it illegally.”

“Bribing a judge and paying off people at the courthouse
is
illegal,” Sterling countered. “What else do you have in mind?”

“I believe what my brother is implying,” Mitchell said carefully, “is that people often change their minds when a threat or ultimatum is delivered. We have incriminating evidence and information on nearly every judge and lawyer in this town. We have sworn statements on dozens of powerful men, along with witnesses who will swear to whatever we ask of them.”

“And you believe, after the well-known business affairs of your father and the very public announcement of his death and funeral, people are simply going to let this come to pass?” He shook his head. “Robinson is no fool. He has already enlisted the help of a great many people. He has taken the will quite seriously. He knew the details before I did.”

“Then you are a fool,” Marston replied in anger. “I blame you for not helping my father to see a way out of this mess.”

Sterling frowned and tightened his expression. “If I were you, I would find a way to work with your stepmother rather than antagonizing her. Surely she has little desire to be the decision maker at a casket production company. She is quite young and may even remarry, and then she will be less concerned about her well-being.”

“But that is exactly why we need to resolve this immediately,” Mitchell declared. “She might very well marry, and then the Gray fortune will pass to her husband’s control. We will never see a dollar returned to us. Once word gets out that she has a vast fortune at her fingertips, men will flock to court and woo her.”

“As I said, perhaps the trick is to win her over. Show your concern. Explain to her that the weight of such a responsibility will only cause her misery. Maybe start by simply offering to oversee things for her. Tell her you’ll report to her and let her know what’s happening.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Mitchell said, looking to Marston for his opinion.

Marston knew it wouldn’t work. Lydia had already started to show a bit of backbone. She was slowly but surely learning to stand on her own two feet. It hadn’t been long since their father had died, but Lydia seemed to be transforming before their very eyes.

“We can only try,” Mitchell encouraged. “Perhaps we can have Evie help us. Lydia has always liked Evie.”

Marston nodded, not yet willing to share his thoughts on the matter. “It’s possible. We shall give it consideration and see if a plan can be developed.” Marston didn’t miss the look of relief in Nash Sterling’s dark blue eyes. Imbecile! If he’d done his job properly, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Leaving the office, Marston was in no mood for his brother’s fretful conversation. “I have been careful with my own investments, but this may not bode well for my family. We might be forced to reconsider our standard of living,” Mitchell confessed.

“Bah, please be quiet,” Marston said as he climbed into the carriage. “Nothing is going to change. We simply have to find a way to fight back—to win.” He eased his hat down over his eyes as if he intended to sleep on the ride home. “Lydia is not going to tell us what to do. She has no idea of our strength and resolve.”

“Do you suppose she’ll really want to remarry—after all she’s been through?”

Marston pushed his hat back. “Why do you say that?”

Mitchell looked almost embarrassed. “Well, we both know our father was not the easiest man to live with. Maybe Lydia doesn’t like being married.”

“Women don’t know what they like or dislike. They really have no mind for such things. They understand entertaining and raising children but are otherwise useless unless properly trained. Father was simply attempting to make her acceptable to society.”

Shrugging, Mitchell fell back against the leather upholstery as the carriage merged into traffic.

Marston considered something he and Mitchell had discussed once before. “If I could force her to marry me, then there would be little difficulty in regaining control of our money.”

“But wouldn’t society frown upon such an arrangement? She is our stepmother.”

“It would have to be dealt with carefully. Perhaps we could enlist the help of the girls. They could put it out among their friends and social circles that Lydia is distraught and unable to go on with life. My marrying her would be done purely out of a desire to see her safe and assured of her position.”

Mitchell chuckled. “But one word from Lydia would put all of that nonsense to rest.”

Marston gave his brother a smug smile. “But she has to be able to talk and to be out in public in order to share such thoughts.”

His brother raised a brow and nodded. “And then perhaps in time, Lydia could simply do herself in—as our mother did.”

“Why not?” Marston replied. “Weak women do it all the time.” He glanced out the window feeling hope for the first time in a long while. “I believe this crisis may resolve itself quite easily after all.”

Chapter 4

L
ydia could feel Dwight Robinson’s gaze on her without needing to turn around. She stood at the window of his office, watching the Kansas City traffic bustle about.

“I have had several meetings with your stepsons. They are not happy, as I’m sure you know. They intend to see the inheritance returned to them, regardless of what they have to do.” She could hear him shuffle papers. “They’ve petitioned to have the will set aside, but I can’t see it causing you any difficulty. Once reviewed, a judge is going to see that the arrangement was contracted legally.”

Lydia turned and met his gaze. “I honestly don’t want their inheritance. To tell you the truth, there is nothing of Floyd’s that I desire to keep. I’d just as soon give it to them and be done with it.”

“But what of your future?”

Smoothing her dove-gray walking skirt, Lydia crossed the room and took a seat in the high-backed red leather chair. “My future is fairly well set, what with the trust fund Father set up for me.”

“And what of your father’s furniture business?” Dwight asked, lowering his wire-rimmed glasses. “That is intricately tied to the casket business he created with Mr. Gray. Your father and husband owned equal shares of the latter.”

She frowned. “I don’t know that I even want to have my hand in the business at all.”

“And the Gray family also had a freight business and two mortuaries. . . .”

She felt completely overwhelmed with it all.

“I suppose we could approach them to see if they would like to buy out your shares.” Dwight reached for his pen and held it aloft a moment. “Is that what you would like me to do?”

“Is it feasible? Can it be done without my being here to handle the matter?”

Dwight nodded. “I can see to everything. Even the review of the will. You won’t have to appear before the judge unless you want to.”

“I most certainly do not.” Lydia stiffened and folded her gloved hands. “I want nothing more to do with this whole affair than I absolutely must. I would be glad for you to handle everything.”

Her lawyer jotted down several things before putting down his pen. He leaned forward and put his glasses aside. “May I be frank?”

Lydia nodded. What else had he been? They had talked about all the intricate details of her marriage to Floyd and the reason behind her father’s decision to marry her off at such a young age.

“I fear for you, Mrs. Gray.”

She felt her brows knit together as she narrowed her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

Mr. Robinson got up and walked to the front of his desk. He leaned his stocky frame against the top. “I worry that your stepsons mean to cause you as much trouble as it takes in order to get back everything. I have heard stories about their dealings in the past. Given that their father was such an abusive man, I find it completely reasonable to believe them capable of the same.”

He cleared his throat as if hesitant to continue. “They are men used to having their own way.”

Lydia shook her head. “Exactly what are you saying?”

“I don’t want to falsely judge them or their motives,” Robinson said. “And I certainly do not mean to speak indelicately, but I believe they will do you physical harm.”

Lydia couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “You do?”

“There are rumors that Gray and his sons have eliminated problems in the past. When people got in their way, there were times those folks simply . . . disappeared.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you saying that Mr. Gray had people killed?” She knew she shouldn’t be shocked by that thought, but she was. The man had been cruel, there was no doubt about that—but a murderer?

“Nothing has ever been proven, but the rumors are too numerous to be ignored. I have heard that Marston and Mitchell were involved in several situations where they intimidated witnesses against their father. Some men were beaten so severely they never recovered. One can’t say if the actual job was done by the hands of one of the Grays or another’s, but I’m willing to believe the order came from a Gray’s mouth.”

Lydia felt her breath catch. Her stomach churned and she shook her head. “I truly had no idea.”

“I hope this won’t seem too out of place. I realize you hardly know my family; however, I discussed your circumstances with my wife, Rhoda. We would like to encourage you to stay with us until you leave town for Alaska.”

Lydia felt at a loss for words. The entire situation took her off guard. “I don’t know what to say.”

“At least consider our offer. You won’t be leaving for a week or two. I’m still making the arrangements for your trip to Sitka.”

“Perhaps we can find a way to start my trip sooner. However, I am having new clothes made for the journey. Nothing I currently have is sturdy or simple enough for life in Alaska.”

“I’d hate to see you stay in that house. You have no friends there, and the children—any one of them would have easy access to you. The servants could be bought off and even paid to do you harm.”

Lydia had never considered such possibilities. So many times she had felt unsafe while Floyd was alive, but since his death, she’d known a new sense of peace. She supposed now that such feelings were foolish. She was never truly going to be free until she was long gone from Kansas City.

She was nearly ready to agree to Mr. Robinson’s invitation when he added a further comment that changed her mind.

“We’ve prayed about this and truly believe that God would have us extend this invitation to you.”

“I don’t believe in prayer,” Lydia said, stiffening. Why did people always have to say such things? As though stamping God’s name on something made it more official or stressed the need to comply?

Robinson’s expression changed to one of shock. “What are you saying?”

Lydia got to her feet. “I have endured far too much at the hands of a cruel and vicious husband to imagine God ever cared about me. My mother told me long ago that God loved me and watched over me to protect me from harm, but my marriage to Floyd proves that was not true. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am late for my dressmaker’s appointment.”