A Daughter's Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page B

then turned to the next fellow.
    Although a hint of color returned to Aunt Victoria’s cheeks, her displeasure remained evident. Uncle Jonas tapped his water goblet with a spoon until the room turned silent. “My wife does not wish to hear any talk of fighting or war at the dinner table, William.” He shouted loud enough that Fanny was certain anyone within a two-block radius could hear the admonition.
    Mr. Snodgrass appeared unperturbed by the comeuppance. “Fine. We can discuss it over a glass of port and a good cigar later in the evening,” he muttered.
    Throughout the meal, which progressed at the usual snail’s pace, Fanny did her best to talk with Grayson and Mr. Snodgrass. The extravagant floral centerpiece prohibited much visiting with guests seated across the table, though it mattered little. Fanny doubted she could interest them in discussing fishing at Broadmoor Island.
    Several servants returned to the dining room and started to remove the dinner plates. When one of the servers approached Fanny, Mr. Snodgrass shook his head and turned a stern eye on Fanny. “You’ve eaten only a few bites of your food, young lady. Do you realize what food costs nowadays?” Before Fanny could respond, he cast a look of doom at the guests seated around him and proclaimed the country would be hard-pressed to recover from this latest depression. “I’m a banker, you know. I understand economics, and even though you all think this country is on the mend, we’ve a long way to go. Best think about that when you’re agreeing to this war, too.”
    Thankfully, the servant ignored the conversation and removed Fanny’s dinner plate while Mr. Snodgrass predicated the country would soon lapse into complete ruination.
    Uncle Jonas cleared his throat. “William . . .”
    Mr. Snodgrass waved at Jonas with a quivering hand mottled with liver spots. “I know, I know. No talk of war, no talk of financial ruin, no talk of anything other than the weather and the ladies’ gowns.” He dipped his head closer to Fanny. A strand of white hair dropped across his forehead. “Do none of you young ladies have interest in anything other than frippery?”
    “William!” Uncle Jonas shook his head. Mr. Snodgrass failed to take into account that his whispers could be heard by everyone in attendance.
    “Fine, Jonas!” Mr. Snodgrass turned toward Fanny and cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me, Miss Broadmoor, who fashions your gowns for you? And what color do you call that particular shade of purple? Did you bead the gown yourself?”
    The old man’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and several of the other men snickered until their wives disarmed them with icy stares. While one of the servants placed a dish of lemon ice in front of Fanny, she leaned close to Mr. Snodgrass. “The color of my gown is referred to as lilac, Mr. Snodgrass.”
    He grinned. “Makes sense. Same shade as Rochester’s famous blooms, right?”
    “Yes. My favorite flower, too.”
    “Well, I find lilacs quite lovely myself. What about you, Jonas? You prefer roses over lilacs?” The old man winked at Fanny.
    Her uncle was clearly annoyed. “Neither. I prefer deep purple irises.”
    Mr. Snodgrass swiveled toward Fanny and arched his bushy brows. “Your uncle dislikes the color of your dress, Miss Broadmoor. This bit of news will likely render you unable to digest your supper. I’m certain you’re wishing you had purchased a deeper shade of purple.” Mr. Snodgrass tipped his head back and laughed. “Shall we discuss the beading on your gown, or perhaps I could ask Mrs. Winberg if she prefers lilac over purple.”
    Unless Uncle Jonas vehemently objected, Mr. Snodgrass’s name would likely be permanently removed from Aunt Victoria’s guest list. Perhaps he would depart early this evening, for he’d evidently not read his invitation. Dinner guests were expected to retire to the ballroom immediately after the evening meal. For this auspicious annual occasion, Aunt Victoria