"Dawns Prelude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peterson Tracie)

Chapter 4

Lydia 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.

"1 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 vVVas 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."

"l3ut what of your future?"

Smoothing her dove-gray walking skirt, Lydia crossed the room and took a seat in the high-hacked 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 hack 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-hut 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."

Taking afternoon tea in her favorite teahouse, Evie listened to her sister drone on and on about how much the circumstances of the will had wreaked havoc with her health.

"I've suffered a headache every day since Father died," she told Evie. "I sometimes have to lie in a dark room for hours to find even a tiny bit of relief."

"I am sorry to hear that," Evie said absentmindedly

Jeannette touched her hand to her head. "Sometimes even my hair pains me."

Evie shrugged. "Perhaps you should cut it off."

"You are speaking nonsense. Does one cut off one's head just because it pains them? I'm merely trying to help you understand the degree to which I suffer."

Probably like I'm suffering right this minute, Evie wanted to retort. She remained silent, however. For several moments neither sister said a word. Jeannette stuffed her mouth with lemon tarts and motioned the waiter to pour more tea.

"Well, I know our brothers will not rest until this matter is resolved," Jeannette said after a long sip from her teacup. "I'm glad that they are working to see it made right. I can hardly sleep nights, knowing she is in our mother's house, probably stealing the very heirlooms that belong to us. I cringe when I think she might have already taken the sherry glasses that Grandmother Beecham gave Mother."

"Oh, be reasonable, Jeannette. Lydia never cared about the possessions our parents owned."

"You think not? I believe she played a coy game with you. She might have seemed a friend, but she was conspiring all the time behind our father's hack."

"Conspiring for what?"

"For the property-the money. She was never happy-never content."

Evie rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "Our father beat her and very nearly held her imprisoned in that house. How could you possibly expect her to be content?"

Jeannette's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead-its bad luck."

"Bad luck seems to haunt this family." Evie set aside her teacup and napkin. "Nevertheless, I hardly believe Lydia wants to keep anything that belonged to our father. And she doesn't drink, so she'd have little use for sherry glasses."

You are so naive. You believe her to he a good woman, but she has caused nothing but misery and pain to this family."

"Like the misery and pain she caused when she nursed us hack to health when we had measles? Or how about the time we muddied our Sunday dresses and knew Father would beat us senseless when he saw what we'd done? Lydia took the dresses and cleaned them before Father arrived home."

Jeannette sniffed into her handkerchief. "She was always lying to him like that."

"She was not. She never lied to him at all. Lydia had the dresses completely repaired before Father returned, and he never knew the difference. Can you not even acknowledge her kindness?"

"I refuse to," Jeannette replied. "It was motivated by selfish ambitions."

Evie shook her head. "How does cleaning a child's dress reveal any type of selfish desire? Lydia was only trying to keep us out of trouble. You have always been the kind of person who seems to thrive on seeing people get their comeuppance, so I don't expect you to understand her desire-"

Jeannette gasped. "How can you say such a thing? I am your sister. You would side with that… that… greedy, conniving woman over me?"

"How is it that she's a greedy and conniving woman when the wealth she's been given has been placed at her feet by the actions of our father and hers?"

"But it was never intended to be that way, and you know it. My own husband finds the situation disturbing. He says that Lydia probably had something to do with all of this. Possibly she tampered with the will."

"Herman Stone is only disturbed because you stood to inherit a good portion of the money and stocks owned by our father. Honestly, Jeannette, I am not the simpleton you believe me to he."

Straightening her shoulders, Jeannette dismissed the topic. "The weather has been unseasonably warm. Mr. Stone believes we might anticipate storms."

"Mrs. Stone," a voice called from behind Evie. "How good to see you. I am surprised, however. Your father has not long been dead. Isn't it a hit early for you to he out in public?"

Evie recognized the shrill, accusing tone of Merdina Winchester. Glancing up, she found the older woman accompanied by her busybody friend Rhoda Sterling, wife of Nash Sterling.

Jeannette was clearly unfazed. "We made our dear father a promise not to spend our time in mourning. As you can see, we have even set aside the wearing of black at his request." She paused and sighed. "Of course, it was hard to do so. We did worry what society might think, but our father's wishes were far more important than what gossips and such could say"

Merdina raised her chin in a rather hostile defiance. "And how could your father have elicited such a promise? Surely he was unaware his demise was soon to be upon him. Why in the world would such a topic even be discussed?"

Evie looked to Jeannette in expectation of what she might say. Jeannette was never at a loss for words, and this time was no exception.

"Our father was a practical man, as you well know. He, of course, did not realize his life would be required of him at such a young age. He was only fifty-four, you know." Jeannette seemed to ponder this for a moment while the two women waited for her explanation. Evie had seen her sister use this tactic on more than one occasion when she wanted to prove the point that she was well in charge of the conversation.

"But being a man of great wisdom, he knew his time would come one day," Jeannette continued. "He took us aside and told us in no uncertain terms that we were not to waste our life in contemplation for the dead. He wanted no mourning period no funeral wreaths or gowns of black crepe. He requested that no social gathering he set aside on his behalf. And while it is hard to face the questioning of those who do not understand, the important thing is, we are doing his will." She gave a sniffle into her handkerchief as if she might burst into tears and then added, "Just as Jesus did His Father's will."

Evie wanted to laugh out loud but instead bowed her head. It was as if she had uttered a silent amen to her sister's declaration.

"See now, you've upset my sister. There, there, Genevieve, you mustn't let the ill will of others disturb you so."

Merdina gave an audible huff, while Mrs. Sterling said nothing. Evie looked up and met their stern expressions but remained silent.

Rhoda Sterling patted her friend's arm. "Come, Merdina. We should leave them to their… mourning."

Evie didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice. She would have giggled had Jeannette not fixed her with a fierce stare. Once the ladies moved away from their table, Jeannette leaned forward. "Let's go. I will not sit here to he judged by the likes of them." She got to her feet and pulled her shawl close. "Oh, and would you mind paying, I'm afraid I forgot my reticule."

"Of course," Evie said, having already anticipated the request. Jeannette Gray Stone never paid for anything. It was her way of holding on to her allowance for secret vices, such as her love of brandy.