Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,44

all be penniless! He’s a blackguard, as heartless as they come!”

“Weʼll get a solicitor,” her papa said.

“No! His Lordship forbade it. The conditions are clear, and I must abide by them…or forfeit all.” She drew in a shuddering breath.

Other phrases floated across Catherineʼs memory. The womanʼs voice, I will not be the cause of his ruin… aristocratic pauper…stripped of his rights… at least ʼtwill provide for my child.” The lady was crying now. Her last desperate words rang in Catherineʼs brain to this day: I revert all my rights and must never contact him again, or the agreement’s null and void. Give me your word that I may depend upon you, Charles, to keep my secret!

He nodded sadly. “Of course.” His final words then were so ominous that they too lingered in Catherineʼs brain. If the old devil passes on, then all will set to rights.

Papa searched among the books and pulled one out. Opening it, he inserted the folded papers, closed the book, and returned it to its place. Watching him, the woman’s face relaxed. She sighed. I’m obliged, Charles...

Her father nodded again, took her hand and squeezed it hard. Blessings go with thee, Meg.

At this point, Catherine unfortunately had to sneeze—she could not contain it, and the adults heard the sound. Mr. Fanshawe strode to the desk and peered beneath at her. “Come out.”

Shame-faced, she scrambled out and to her feet. A quick peek told her the woman was staring at her, but her face showed mild amusement, an indulgent look. She’s nice! Catherine thought in surprise, which added to her shame for eavesdropping though she hadn’t meant to, exactly.

“Whatever you heard, Cat, you will now forget; and say nothing of it to Mama.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Go, now.”

She stole a final peek at the nice, pretty woman, who was now almost smiling at her. To her surprise, when she left the room, she found her mother beside the door against the wall, a finger to her lips. While Catherine watched, Mama bent over at the keyhole, listening.

Inside the study, after Catherine had gone, Frannie’s mother looked again at Charles. “When he comes looking for me, tell him I’ve gone to America.”

Mr. Fanshawe nodded sadly.

“He’d keep looking, otherwise,” she said simply. “And nothing must nullify the agreement. The papers are in your hands for safekeeping—payable to Miss Fanshawe upon her majority.”

When Catherine sat on her father’s knee before the hearth that evening, she had asked who the pretty lady was that heʼd spoken to earlier. Papa was usually soft-spoken, but his voice hardened. He told her again to put it from her mind and to say nothing to Mama. Ironically, his stern injunction to forget the incident seemed instead to have seared it into her brain.

“Do you have a fortune, Papa?” Catherine had asked. “Is that what a trust fund is?” She’d thought those words quite wonderful. Images of gleaming gold coins, stacks of them, spilling out of a pirateʼs treasure chest, ran through her child’s brain.

“No, mʼdear. And not another word about a fund. It’s a great secret, do you understand? Or it may all be lost.” He put a finger to his lips and gave her a conspiratorial look. “Not another word. Especially to your mother.”

Now, all these years later, Catherine understood. Papa had a sister, but due to some mysterious circumstance (that neither parent would disclose) her name was never mentioned. The most she’d learned was from Mama, who once said Papa’s sister had foolishly gone to America many years ago after a tragic affair of some kind; she was not to be thought of.

Now it all made sense. The woman she’d seen with Papa in his study must have been that sister. The child she mentioned, the one that would be “provided for” was her child, the other Miss Fanshawe. This explained the disgrace, for she must be a child out of wedlock! But it reassured her that Papa was not Miss Fanshawe’s father.

What neither of them knew was that Mrs. Fanshawe had heard only enough to assure her there was a secret trust fund for ‘Miss Fanshawe’—and who could that be but Catherine! Indignation that he had income not at her disposal was quickly followed by mollification, for would not her daughter be rich one day? A daughter who would surely take care of her mother? What woman could be cross over that?

Over the years Catherine had thought about the hushed meeting and the secret fund, but dutiful daughter she was, for she adored Papa, sheʼd