breaths,” he ordered the woman, ignoringNicholas. She obediently sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Mrs. Baker is always having these little fits,” the man explained to Nicholas. “Yesterday, she fainted because the butcher sent the chickens over without cutting off their heads. Said their little eyes were staring at her.”
“Mr. Manning,” the woman gasped. “It is Daniel Fear, risen from the grave!”
“Nonsense,” Andrew Manning insisted.
“It is him I tell you! I would recognize him anywhere!” Mrs. Baker cried, her voice growing higher and higher.
“Then he is certainly well-preserved, isn’t he, Mrs. Baker? I wish the years had been as kind to me.” He turned his attention back to Nicholas. “Who are you, young man?”
“Nicholas Fear,” he answered, fighting to sound calm and confident. “I am Daniel Fear’s son.”
“You see, Mrs. Baker. There is a logical explanation for everything,” Mr. Manning scolded.
“I seem to be scaring people all over town,” Nicholas admitted. “I never knew my father and I had such a similar appearance.”
Nicholas took a deep breath. “I wanted to speak with you about the property in the area, Mr. Manning,” he added.
“Wonderful. I enjoy company in the morning. Mrs. Baker, fetch us some coffee and some of your strawberry tarts when you have recovered yourself.”
Mr. Manning led the way down the hall. Nicholas peered into each room they passed. Thick draperies covered the windows. Oil paintings hung on the walls. Dark mahogany furniture filled each room.
Power, Nicholas thought in awe. This is what wealth and power look like. This is what I want.
He followed Mr. Manning into the study. Mr. Manning sat down in a large leather chair behind his desk. He gestured to a smaller chair in front of him. Nicholas sat down.
Before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baker bustled in with the coffee and strawberry tarts. She set them on the corner of the desk, careful to stay away from Nicholas.
“Silly woman,” Mr. Manning muttered. He smiled at Nicholas. “She has been with me since my wife died, and practically raised my daughter, Ruth. So I suppose I must put up with her.”
Nicholas heard the affection in Mr. Manning’s voice. Maybe this will be easier than I thought. Maybe he will understand.
Andrew reached for a tart and shoved it into his mouth. “Delicious. Try one, dear boy,” he mumbled.
“No, thank you,” Nicholas replied. Nicholas felt his stomach knot. He shifted in the chair, the leather creaking.
Mr. Manning licked the strawberry jam off his fingers. “You wanted to discuss property. Tell me what I can do for you.”
Nicholas took a deep breath. He leaned forward,his elbows digging into his thighs. “You can return to me what is rightfully mine.”
Andrew lifted his thick, gray eyebrows. “And what would that be?”
“My inheritance—the fortune that belongs to the Fear family.”
Andrew Manning threw his head back and burst out laughing.
Chapter 18
N icholas clenched his fists as Mr. Manning let out another roar of laughter. He felt as though he were suffocating. Rage burned through him.
“My dear boy,” Mr. Manning said as he gasped for breath. “There is no fortune.”
“You are lying!” Nicholas shot back. “You do not want to give up the money that belongs to me!”
“That is a serious accusation,” Mr. Manning answered calmly. “You are welcome to talk to the president of the bank—and anyone else. They will all tell you the same thing. You have no inheritance—except for huge back taxes on the land.”
Nicholas stood, his knees weak with shock. He could not stay in the room another minute. He could not allow Mr. Manning to see how shaken he was.
“Sit back down,” Mr. Manning ordered. “Please. I should not have laughed.”
Nicholas slowly returned to his chair. “Back taxes?” he whispered, the anger giving way to despair.
Mr. Manning nodded. “I am afraid so. I had grand
“Mrs. Baker is always having these little fits,” the man explained to Nicholas. “Yesterday, she fainted because the butcher sent the chickens over without cutting off their heads. Said their little eyes were staring at her.”
“Mr. Manning,” the woman gasped. “It is Daniel Fear, risen from the grave!”
“Nonsense,” Andrew Manning insisted.
“It is him I tell you! I would recognize him anywhere!” Mrs. Baker cried, her voice growing higher and higher.
“Then he is certainly well-preserved, isn’t he, Mrs. Baker? I wish the years had been as kind to me.” He turned his attention back to Nicholas. “Who are you, young man?”
“Nicholas Fear,” he answered, fighting to sound calm and confident. “I am Daniel Fear’s son.”
“You see, Mrs. Baker. There is a logical explanation for everything,” Mr. Manning scolded.
“I seem to be scaring people all over town,” Nicholas admitted. “I never knew my father and I had such a similar appearance.”
Nicholas took a deep breath. “I wanted to speak with you about the property in the area, Mr. Manning,” he added.
“Wonderful. I enjoy company in the morning. Mrs. Baker, fetch us some coffee and some of your strawberry tarts when you have recovered yourself.”
Mr. Manning led the way down the hall. Nicholas peered into each room they passed. Thick draperies covered the windows. Oil paintings hung on the walls. Dark mahogany furniture filled each room.
Power, Nicholas thought in awe. This is what wealth and power look like. This is what I want.
He followed Mr. Manning into the study. Mr. Manning sat down in a large leather chair behind his desk. He gestured to a smaller chair in front of him. Nicholas sat down.
Before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baker bustled in with the coffee and strawberry tarts. She set them on the corner of the desk, careful to stay away from Nicholas.
“Silly woman,” Mr. Manning muttered. He smiled at Nicholas. “She has been with me since my wife died, and practically raised my daughter, Ruth. So I suppose I must put up with her.”
Nicholas heard the affection in Mr. Manning’s voice. Maybe this will be easier than I thought. Maybe he will understand.
Andrew reached for a tart and shoved it into his mouth. “Delicious. Try one, dear boy,” he mumbled.
“No, thank you,” Nicholas replied. Nicholas felt his stomach knot. He shifted in the chair, the leather creaking.
Mr. Manning licked the strawberry jam off his fingers. “You wanted to discuss property. Tell me what I can do for you.”
Nicholas took a deep breath. He leaned forward,his elbows digging into his thighs. “You can return to me what is rightfully mine.”
Andrew lifted his thick, gray eyebrows. “And what would that be?”
“My inheritance—the fortune that belongs to the Fear family.”
Andrew Manning threw his head back and burst out laughing.
Chapter 18
N icholas clenched his fists as Mr. Manning let out another roar of laughter. He felt as though he were suffocating. Rage burned through him.
“My dear boy,” Mr. Manning said as he gasped for breath. “There is no fortune.”
“You are lying!” Nicholas shot back. “You do not want to give up the money that belongs to me!”
“That is a serious accusation,” Mr. Manning answered calmly. “You are welcome to talk to the president of the bank—and anyone else. They will all tell you the same thing. You have no inheritance—except for huge back taxes on the land.”
Nicholas stood, his knees weak with shock. He could not stay in the room another minute. He could not allow Mr. Manning to see how shaken he was.
“Sit back down,” Mr. Manning ordered. “Please. I should not have laughed.”
Nicholas slowly returned to his chair. “Back taxes?” he whispered, the anger giving way to despair.
Mr. Manning nodded. “I am afraid so. I had grand
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