Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,45
never spoken of it. Only once had she tried to find the mysterious papers that had passed from her auntʼs hand to her fatherʼs. After his ship had left port, she’d returned to the forbidden room, straight to the bookshelf where she’d seen him tuck the papers into a book. But which one? With the room to herself, she searched through one shelf of books but to no avail. At that point, Mama found her in the room and gave her a great combing, for was not Papa’s study for himself alone, his privacy not to be intruded upon? Catherine never attempted to find them again.
Now, a decade later, she went again to Papa’s study with fresh curiosity. Surely Papa wouldn’t be angry now if she wished to investigate, not under the circumstances. That man earlier had threatened Mama with the law. Surely that was reason enough for her to get to the bottom of the matter. Whatever was on those folded sheets, the ones which had settled her aunt’s mind, must be the answer. One by one she went through each shelf in the room.
But, after exhausting the books on each and every one, she found nothing. A few faded bookmarks gave her pause, but these she put back and continued the search. Finally, she concluded her father had hidden the mysterious papers elsewhere, papers that would explain the trust, and prove, alas, that Mama was wrong. The trust did not belong to her, Catherine. It belonged to the other Miss Fanshawe.
En route to King Street, Frannie worked up the courage to ask Sebastian what she had lacked courage to ask Mr. Harley. As he handed her down from the carriage, she said, “Sir, might I inquire? Did Mr. Harley find evidence to bolster my claim when he made inquiries on my behalf?” Her heart beat painfully, for she was well aware that the evidence was likely to be scarce, even non-existent.
Sebastian hesitated. “He found the parish record of your birth.”
“Yes?” Her heart skipped a beat. Sebastian looked regretful.
“The entry was not complete, but appears to have been doctored. Your father’s name was blotted out.” He paused, met her eyes and added gently, “It does raise questions about the legitimacy of your birth, I’m afraid.”
“Questions?” Dread filled her heart.
He looked away and then back at her. “The difficulty is that your mother’s maiden name is Fanshawe, and you share that name. Charles Fanshawe of Cheapside had a sister Margaret, who must be your mother.”
A wave of mortification washed over Frannie. Did this not indicate that she must be illegitimate? Had Mama hidden the truth from her all her life? Had Mrs. Baxter known? Her eyes brimmed with tears. Thoughts and fears filled her mind, but she stared at the ground as they walked. She would no doubt be sent packing now.
“Mr. Harley finds it curious that your fatherʼs name was crossed out. He said it may be indicative of possible foul play.”
“Foul play?” she asked.
“It’s a crime to alter a parish record,” he explained. “But it was done. This raises the possibility of unusual circumstances surrounding your birth and situation in life.” He paused. “Nothing can be concluded at present.” Before she could reply, he motioned her to silence as they entered the house and handed their accoutrements to Tipps.
“Is Mrs. Arundell here?”
“Gone out, sir, with an acquaintance,” Tipps replied.
Sebastian turned to Frannie, “Where shall I take you? To the library?” A smile curved his lips.
The Arundell library was Frannie’s favourite room, stocked with more books than she’d ever seen in a home. It seemed no one else in the family frequented it, but apparently her habit of retiring there to read whenever she wasn’t needed, had been noted. She often took one of Mrs. Arundell’s magazines with her, such as Le Belle Assemblée, or, The Ladies’ Monthly Museum. She did this not because she was enraptured by fashion plates or advice for young women on etiquette or beauty, but so that none would think her a bluestocking. Her real object was to read as many new titles from the shelves as she could manage. It was also a quiet place for morning devotions, to read the prayer book.
At this moment she thought of escaping to her bedchamber to throw herself upon the bed and have a good cry. Her birth record was shameful! Her father’s name crossed out! But another part of her rose up. She would go to the library. Only God knew how much longer she’d