Tracie Peterson: Dawns Prelude

Marston said nothing more. He pulled hack, much to Lydia 's surprise, and allowed them to pass. Lydia could feel the man tremble slightly beneath her touch. She felt sorry for him, knowing that he was embarrassed by the entire encounter.

"Oh, there is one other thing," Robinson stated as they reached the front door. The butler arrived with his hat in hand, then turned to open the door.

Lydia glared at the man until he took his leave. The servants were always trying to overhear her conversations. Seeing that she no longer required his service, the butler bowed stiffly and left them. You said there was something else, Mr. Robinson?"

"1 wish to accompany you to the reading of the will on Monday. As your father's lawyer, I have made arrangements with Mr. Gray's lawyer. We will both need to be present for the reading, due to those complications of which your father spoke."

"I see." Lydia glanced over her shoulder to find Marston watching her. She lifted her chin and spoke loudly enough for him to hear her. "I would be very glad for you to accompany me. What time shall I expect your

"I will arrive for you at nine-thirty. The reading is set for ten."

Lydia nodded. "Very well. I shall await your arrival."

As soon as Robinson had departed, Lydia hurried upstairs before Marston could stop her. She nearly ran for the sanctuary of her bedroom and locked the door behind her before allowing herself another glance at her father's letter.

If he had provided enough money, then Lydia knew exactly what she wanted to do. Her only living relative, Aunt Zerelda, lived in far-off Alaska in a tiny island town called Sitka. It had long been Lydia 's desire to join her there.

Perhaps now I can do exactly that. After all, it would resolve all of her problems. Moving to such a remote place would put her well beyond the reach of her vindictive stepchildren. It would also allow her a fresh new start.

She went to her desk and took out pen and paper. It would take considerable time for a letter to reach her aunt. It would he hest to get started and allow Zerelda knowledge of what had happened. She didn't yet know of her brother's death.

For the first time in years, Lydia felt a spark of hope. She glanced across the room to where her violin awaited her. Forgoing the letter momentarily, Lydia crossed to the instrument and lovingly took it in hand. She tested the strings and tuned it before drawing the how.

Music filled the air and sent soothing waves across the stormy seas of Lydia 's heart. Throughout her life, she had known no comfort like that of her music. For a moment she lost herself in the haunting melody of Bach's Mass in B Minor.

She had once thought of having this music played at her funeral. Now, however, her death seemed far away. A new future awaited her.

Lydia sat uncomfortably between her twin stepsons. They seemed unhappy that she had been asked to he in attendance by both her father's lawyer, Mr. Robinson, and their family lawyer, Nash Sterling. Truth he told, Lydia wasn't at all excited about the humiliation of hearing her dead husband's will read.

At least Father considered my needs. For all the un ong he did me in forcing me to many he at least considered my situation. She held her gloved hands together so tightly that they immediately began to ache. Lydia wanted to relax her grip, but if she did, the entire family would see how hard she was shaking.

Mr. Sterling stood. "We have agreed to meet here today for the reading of two wills. That of Mr. Zachary Rockford, father of Lydia Rockford Gray, and of Mr. Floyd Gray, husband of the same Mrs. Lydia Rockford Gray, and father to Mr. Mitchell Gray, Mr. Marston Gray, Mrs. Jeannette Gray Stone, and Mrs. Genevieve Gray Gadston." He looked up as if to take a silent roll call, then nodded at Mr. Robinson.

Lydia drew a deep breath as her father's lawyer began to read the content of Zachary Rockford's will. Marston and Mitchell were not going to like hearing that her father had left her a trust. They had taken such satisfaction in knowing she would be left without any provision whatsoever, and this would surely steal some of that joy.

11 In agreement with the contract signed on March 10, 1859, at the marriage of my daughter Lydia Rockford to Floyd Gray, I do hereby leave all my worldly goods to Floyd Gray upon my death.'"

Mitchell and Marston both turned a smug face to Lydia, but she neither acknowledged their stare nor the words spoken by Mr. Robinson. She had known of the agreement. Her marriage had been a business arrangement. The wholesale purchase of a sixteen-year-old bride by an older man whose wife had committed the unspeakable act of suicide.

"However, there is also another point of reference written here," Mr. Robinson continued. " `Should Floyd Gray precede me in death, then all of my properties, including stocks, business interests, and monies, will pass to my only living child, my daughter, Lydia Rockford Gray.'"

Lydia couldn't figure out why in the world this point was being brought to light. She was surprised by it, but her father and Floyd had died as a result of the same carriage accident.

Robinson picked up a sheaf of papers. "I have the signed and sworn statements by three doctors, given before myself and Mr. Sterling, as well judge Brewster, which confirm, as you know, that Floyd Gray died immediately at the site of the accident on April 2, 1870." He paused and lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose. "I believe both of the Gray sons were available to identify their father's body on the second of April, as well. Is this true?"

Mitchell stood. "It is, but I hardly see the purpose of this."

"Please he seated, Mr. Gray," Mr. Robinson requested. Mr. Sterling appeared rather upset and refused to look Mitchell in the eye. It was this small but important action that caused Lydia to take interest. Something wasn't right.

Robinson continued. "The purpose, Mr. Gray, will become apparent.

Mitchell looked at Marston, then took his seat. "Very well, please continue. But do remember the delicacy of my sisters. They needn't he burdened with comments about identifying the dead."

As if on cue, Jeannette began to sob. Lydia wanted to be sick. The girls had no more love for their father than she had.

Mr. Robinson lifted his papers again. "I have the same type of signed statement on behalf of Mr. Rockford, which in addition includes the papers that were completed by the hospital officials, where he was taken after the accident. As you are aware, Mr. Rockford died on April fourth. Given this and the obvious fact that Mr. Rockford outlived Mr. Gray," Mr. Robinson stated, pulling his spectacles from his face, "Mrs. Lydia Rockford Gray is the sole heir of her father's fortune."

Mitchell looked aghast. "That is hardly legal." He turned to Sterling. "It isn't legal, is it? Mr. Rockford's property was to go to our father."

Mr. Sterling shifted uncomfortably, not even attempting to answer.

Mr. Robinson peered over his wire-rimmed glasses at Mitchell. "Yes, that had been part of the agreement. However, as I stated, the will reads that your father would receive Mr. Rockford's properties should he survive Mr. Rockford. Given that he did not, but rather died two days prior to the death of your stepmother's father, the will clearly passes the inheritance to his only direct descendant, Mrs. Lydia Rockford Gray."

"Is this right?" Marston demanded, staring hard at Mr. Sterling. "Our father shared a profitable business with Mr. Rockford. They owned the venture in a fifty-fifty share. Are you telling me that, even though she had nothing to do with the growth and development of this industry, Lydia will now inherit half of what we've worked so hard to build?"