Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,18

mistaken. And now, when the duns have taken everything from me, I have no choice but to find my father!”

Frannie remembered nearly word for word the terrible bills of indictment she’d been served, saying “the penalties and forfeitures of the departed are to be recovered by the distress and sale of the offender’s goods and chattels…” She swallowed and continued, “They would not heed my assurance that I would, as soon as I had it in my power, pay all. Dear Mrs. Baxter assured me so vehemently that I am to inherit a fortune that I could in good conscience promise repayment. But they heeded me not. So you see I must seek him out. I find myself quite homeless—except for the kindness of your family, sir.”

Sebastian considered it propitiously fortunate for Miss Fanshawe’s sake, that Edward had championed her cause. He had saved her, perhaps, from starvation, for she was an absolute pauper! And on his hands. They drove without speaking for some minutes while he thought it over. The fortune, he was certain, could not exist; to attempt to track it would mean following a vale of tears. It could only bring heartache to his young companion and put him in the unenviable position of making delicate inquiries among the ton about a blow-by child no nobleman of his acquaintance would desire to have known.

“How do you receive the annual payment?”

“That is precisely the dilemma, sir. Mrs. Baxter knew only that my mother received it by post. I have no means of receiving it now that our home is lost to me. I left word with the postmaster, of course, that I would furnish a new direction at the soonest possible time, for it must come.” She paused and added with a determined nod of her head, “Anything that comes my way, I will of course turn over to you.”

Sebastian looked faintly horrified and hurriedly said, “That will not be necessary, Miss Fanshawe.”

She swallowed and added, “That does relieve my mind, I own, sir; for I still consider Mrs. Baxter’s debts to be mine; they are debts of—of honour!” she said, nobly. “I must repay them and redeem what’s been lost.”

Sebastian could not help but smile at that. But he said, “If they’ve taken possession of the house and furnishings, you might honourably and in good conscience consider her debts paid.”

“But I want to buy it back!” Frannie said earnestly. “I grew up in that house; all my memories are there.” She clung to those of her mama, which to her seemed inextricable from the house.

“I find it difficult to fathom that your Mrs. Baxter never extricated the name of your father from your mama. You lived with her for years, you said.”

“All my life,” nodded Frannie. After a moment she said, “Perhaps she believed he was dead, too. I wonder if my mother told her when she died—that was a year ago August—that he was alive.”

“I wonder she didn’t pass on the information to you at that time.”

Frannie sighed. “I wish she had. But it was only as Mrs. Baxter lay dying and could hardly speak at all that she told me, and then she gave only the name of Charles Fanshawe. She was quite sure he was not my father, but an uncle. This must be true, for as you pointed out, there is no title.” Again she sighed, this time deeply. “When I found his home, I had hoped to explain my predicament, and—foolishly, you will say!—thought he might look favourably upon me and welcome me as a relation; at least until the trust is secured. But as I told young Mr. Arundell your brother, his wife took an instant horror when I appeared, and told me I was—an—an impostor!” Here Frannie’s voice broke and she continued only with some difficulty. “She said the only Miss Fanshawe they would acknowledge was her d—dear child, and I should never receive aught at their hands!”

Sebastian stared at her strangely for a moment at this revelation. Unthinkingly, he took the reins in one gloved hand so he could pat hers, which were folded upon her lap. “Is that what she said?” he asked, mildly.

“Yes, sir. I know it seems a muddle! And perhaps too deep for you to unravel…!” Sebastian frowned, but kept his eyes upon the road. Frannie continued, “She also said that if I had the cheek—the p-pluck—to return, she would summon a magistrate or Charley to haul me to King’s Bench!” She blinked back tears.