Her Defiant Heart (50 page)

"The portrait that you saw, Susan, was one I sat for while we were engaged. That would have been in late July... just after I returned from Europe." Jenny paused, realizing by the confusion of her audience that she was explaining herself badly. "I think I should start at a different point," she said. "Perhaps it would help if you knew about my father."

"We all knew Charles Van Dyke by reputation," Scott told her. "His financial success was very well known."

"True," Jenny replied. "But he was also a very private man, a family man. He was not as fond of making the social rounds as my mother. He was more comfortable in his own home, he would say. Numbers were his livelihood; family was his life. He was at sixes and sevens when he was away, he would tell me, so why should he dress to the nines?" She smiled at the memory of her father's blustering. "Papa enjoyed talking like that. He'd puff out his chest, prepare for a fiery oration, and then something quite ridiculous would come out of his mouth and I would have to laugh."

Christian was sitting straighter now. He had set his cup and saucer on the arm of his chair and allowed his coffee to grow cold.

Jenny did not notice Christian's attentiveness. She went on, creating the fabric of the tale with the threads of her memories. "Papa often let Mother go to the theater or parties with other men as escorts. Although I didn't know it at the time, William Bennington was one of those men. He was a widower, a man with business dealings with my father, and I suppose Papa thought it was a perfectly acceptable arrangement. If there was a scandal at the time I was not aware of it. My existence was very insular in those days—not so very different than it has been recently.

"At that time the protection was provided by my father. He was not as indulgent as you might imagine. He might have called me the princess when I was being mule-headed and demanding, but that didn't mean he gave in to me. In our home he was always king. More often, he called me Jenny. Just to keep me common, he'd say. Mother never liked it. It was her opinion that I already had a perfectly good name. Jenny is simply a corruption of my middle name, which is also my mother's maiden name."

Scott's cup clattered as he set it down. "Jennings," he said softly as realization struck. "Lillian Jennings. My God, I never realized... your grandfather..."

"Yes. My mother's father. I'm sure his name is all over that hospital, although I never had occasion to see it. Ironic, isn't it, that I should be held prisoner in the hospital my grandfather endowed." Jenny's smile was derisive. "And it does not end there, Dr. Turner. The madwoman who sometimes shared my cell? She is my godmother."

Chapter 14

"Alice Vanderstell." Scott's brows climbed toward his hairline. "Alice is your godmother."

His genuine astonishment brought a real smile to Jenny's lips. "The Vanderstells were close friends of my father. The families are distantly related, and there was a certain pride they shared in their Dutch roots."

"So she was always aware you were the princess," Christian said, leaning forward. He rested his forearms on his knees. "She recognized you from the first. She would have known about the birthmark if she stood at your baptism. She would have known why your father called you by that name."

Jenny nodded and explained the origin of the name to Scott and Susan. "But I am getting ahead of myself again." She poured more coffee and sipped it before she went on. "I hope you have reason to appreciate now that my father and I were close. I loved my mother, and yet I did not know her well. Papa, though, was as much friend as he was parent and mentor. I was just fifteen when he was killed in a train accident on his way home from Washington." Jenny's voice dropped to a husky whisper, and she stared at her shifting reflection in the coffee cup. "I did not accept the loss very well. That's the first time I met Dr. Morgan. My mother called him to treat me when I did not recover from my father's death as quickly as she thought I should. He was not overseeing the entire hospital in those days. His responsibility was the lunatic ward."

"Were you committed?" asked Scott.

"No. Mother kept me at home, and Dr. Morgan came now and again. He brought this... this
thing...
and he would strap me to it and it would spin..." Her voice trailed off as the memory overwhelmed her. No one pressed her. Grateful for their silence, she spoke again when she was ready, relating her mother's decision to send her abroad and the arrival of William and Stephen Bennington in her life. "I returned to New York too late. Mother was already dead and William was in control. It was some time before I understood how manipulative my stepfather was and that Stephen was very nearly his equal." Her cheeks flushed as she began to relate her relationship with her stepbrother. "Initially I was flattered by Stephen's attentions. There was never any brother-sister familiarity to contend with. He is an attractive man, and I rather liked to think that he could be interested in me. You will see it for the vanity that it was, but it had not yet occurred to me my fortune was more appealing than I was. Only weeks after I returned, we became engaged."

She stood up, placed her cup on the mantel, and leaned her shoulder against it. Folding her arms, she hugged herself. "I chanced upon a conversation between William and Stephen and learned more than I ever wanted to know about their plans. It would have been obvious to the meanest intelligence that they wanted to control my money. If I married Stephen, they could retain their hold even after I was twenty-one."

"Not necessarily," Christian said. "There are laws in this state to protect your wealth. It would not become the property of your husband."

Jenny shook her head. "My father loved me, Christian, but he never considered for a moment that I was capable of managing my fortune. His will was very specific in that regard. I could inherit the money at twenty-one, but I had to appoint not one, but
three
advisors to oversee it. At twenty-five, after four years under their tutelage, my father granted that I could dismiss them."

"I take it those conditions were if you remained single."

"Yes. Should I marry before I am twenty-five, the money becomes my husband's. My father was clear on that account. There is no breaking the will; it is perfectly legal."

"What happened once you broke the engagement?" asked Scott.

"I think you know. Within days I began to feel ill."

"Do you suspect you were drugged?"

"Yes, I think so. I have to believe that, don't you see? The alternative is that I was going mad—just as they said I was. They had two motives for removing me. They wanted to stop the rumors about their management of the bank, and they wanted control of the money again. I had turned twenty-one, but I had not yet named the trustees. If I remained secluded because of my illness, I would not be expected to make the appointments; they would be made for me by the board at the bank."

"William and Stephen?" asked Susan. "Would they have been named?"

"William, certainly. I don't know about Stephen. The important thing here is that the executor position was now going to be a shared responsibility among three people. William did not really want that. His ultimate aim in sending me to the hospital was to keep me firmly under this thumb until I agreed to marry Stephen.

"I doubt if even Dr. Morgan understood that. William had him treat me at home in the beginning—I think my stepfather was aware that my mother called upon Dr. Morgan after Papa died. It was clever to use him again. I had a history with the good doctor. After a few visits I was brought to Jennings by way of the Five Points. The one thing William did not want was for me to die."

"It's not that I want it either," said Scott, "but wouldn't it have solved William's problems?"

Jenny shook her head. "He would have murdered me himself if he thought it would have put my money in his hands, but he is better off with me alive. If I die before I am twenty-five and have no husband, my fortune goes to private city charities."

"But shouldn't some of your money already be going to charities?" Susan asked. "After all, Caroline Van Dyke was declared dead."

"So I learned," said Jenny. "The next step is to set up a foundation for distributing the money. That will take six months, perhaps longer, because William will challenge anyone who expresses interest in becoming the foundation's head. I hope to have the proof I need before he or Stephen is named director. My fortune is in escrow. No one can touch it until the foundation is established. That is why William is taking so much from the bank. People think he has great personal wealth, but he does not. Even with what my mother left him when she died, he could not maintain the mansion for more than a few years. Unless he buys the house he will have to move out. It is tied up in my inheritance and will belong to the foundation."

"What do we do now?" Scott asked. "Stephen knows you are alive. Will he still want to marry you?"

"I don't know." She rubbed her upper arms, shivering slightly. "William may decide it's too late for that. They may finally choose mur—"

"No, Jenny," Christian said, interrupting. "It is not a possibility. In the morning, I am taking you back to Marshall House, where I know you'll be safe. According to the information you gave me, William and Stephen are likely to take funds from the bank again on the last day of this month. If your appearance does not alter their routine, then we have six days to put our plan in order."

In spite of Christian's optimism, Scott was not encouraged. "We have a plan? We have been working on the bank problem for two weeks, and Jenny wrestled with it for two months before that. Now we have six days? This is the first I am hearing of a plan."

Christian started to answer, but he stopped himself midsentence. Jenny was sucking in a yawn and trying to hide it behind the back of one hand. "We'll talk tomorrow," he said, slanting his eyes toward Jenny.

Scott followed Christian's glance. "All right. Yes, we will talk tomorrow."

Jenny's yawn changed to a sleepy, apologetic smile. "You do not have to leave on my account. I would like to hear Christian's plan."

Three voices answered in unison. "Tomorrow."

Christian followed Susan and Scott down to the lobby to say good night. When he returned to the suite the only lamp that was burning was in Jenny's bedroom. He found her there, curled on her side under the covers. She was not sleeping. Her eyes were open, and she was staring at the balcony doors, deep in thought. He paused in the doorway, uncertain. When she glanced in his direction he asked, "Am I welcome here?"

"Do you want to be?"

He nodded. "Very much so."

"Then come in."

Christian walked over to the bed. His hand brushed the edge of the mattress. His lean fingers looked dark against the white counterpane. "And here?" he asked.

In answer, Jenny moved more toward the middle of the bed and made room for him.

He stripped off his clothes, lifted the covers, and slid in beside her. Their knees bumped, and it was Christian who quickly retracted, putting space between them. By slipping his arm under a pillow he raised his head slightly, keeping him level with Jenny. "I behaved badly this evening," he said.

"I know."

Christian smiled. "Yes, I am certain of that. What I am trying to do is apologize."

"Don't try. Do it."

"I
am
sorry. I knew what you thought when I said I was going to the bar. I should not have done that. Susan was right. It was cruel."

Jenny's eyes remained grave. "It was, and I have not yet agreed to go with you tomorrow. Don't assume my cooperation."

Christian went very still. "Jenny. You can't stay."

She sat up.
"Now
I'm throwing you out," she said. "Or I can leave." She threw back the covers and moved to the far side of the bed.

"Jenny, what the..." Christian did not know what to do. He found her wrist, and when she tried to shake him off, he held her fast. "At least tell me what I've done."

Jenny yanked at her nightshift, covering her legs as Christian edged closer. "You are no different than the others."

"The others? I swear to you, I don't understand."

She searched his face and recognized the tempering effect that genuine curiosity had on his frustration. "You expect me to fall in with your plans," she said at last. "It is always the same with men. First my father. Then William and Stephen. In Jennings, it was the doctors and the attendants. I have no say. Never."