Free A Surrendered Heart by Tracie Peterson Page B

now, Miss Broadmoor, but I hope you will remember my years of faithful service to your grandfather. My intent is to help you in any way possible.” Mr. Rosenblume gathered the papers and shoved them inside the file folder. “I will make every effort to secure the mansion at the lowest possible price. The fact that Jonas is anxious to sell should work in your favor.”
    “Let’s hope so,” she said. “Is there anything else we must address this morning?”
    “I do want you to understand that your uncle has commingled funds and it will take time and effort to determine exactly what is yours and what is his. While some of the details are clear-cut, others are clouded.”
    “If these allegations prove to be true, I want to take every effort to protect my aunt and cousins. They had no part in any of this. It is Uncle Jonas who must answer for his actions.”
    The lawyer nodded. “I will do what I can to protect both your interests and the family name.” He lifted some files from one end of the table. “These files were marked with your name and the word confidential . I have not examined their contents.” The clock chimed, and he handed her the files. “Take these papers with you. Once you’ve reviewed them, we can discuss anything you discover that might require my attention.”
    After bidding Mr. Rosenblume farewell, Fanny tucked the files under her arm and arrived at the Rochester Savings Bank only minutes before the carriage appeared. Instead of stopping to pick lilacs, she instructed the driver to return home. It wouldn’t do for Uncle Jonas to be waiting and confront her when she entered the house. What if he spotted the files and inquired? What would she say? Even with the driver’s urging, the horse seemed to plod along at an unusually slow pace. She prayed her uncle wouldn’t decide to come home for the noonday meal. Since Aunt Victoria’s departure, his schedule had become irregular, and Fanny never knew when he might appear. Not that it had mattered much in the past.
    Fanny leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Was my uncle at home when you left the house?”
    The driver shook his head. “Haven’t seen him since early this morning, and he didn’t leave any instructions to pick him up until this evening. ’Course you can’t never tell about Mr. Jonas. Sometimes he hires a cab to bring him home.”
    When they neared the house, she once again tapped the driver. “Go around to the back of the house. I’ll enter through the kitchen.”
    The young man glanced over his shoulder and frowned, but he didn’t question her. The servants who worked for Jonas Broadmoor knew better.
    “Thank you,” she said as he helped her down. “After lunch, I’ll need you to take me to Broadmoor Mansion and then on to the Home for the Friendless.” The driver nodded. Fanny gazed over the driver’s shoulder and was pleased to see that her uncle’s horses hadn’t been hitched to his carriage. She hoped that meant he had remained at his office. The minute she entered the kitchen, she quizzed the cook and was relieved when she heard that her uncle hadn’t darkened the doorway.
    “When would you like to eat, Miss Fanny?” the cook asked when she continued toward the rear stairway.
    “I’ll get something a little later. I’m not hungry right now.”
    The cook nodded. “If you’re sure, ’cause I could—”
    “I am. I’ll be upstairs in my bedroom,” she called over her shoulder.
    Never before had Fanny locked the bedroom door, but today was different. She placed the files on her bed, removed the key from the top dresser drawer, and slipped it into the lock. One twist of the key and the bolt slipped into place with a soft clunk .
    Apprehension filled her as she crossed the room and settled in a chair that overlooked the rear garden. She sifted through the papers and then stopped to more closely peruse a letter addressed to Mortimer Fillmore. The missive was written on her uncle’s