Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,47
still remains that the man has been supporting you all your life and means to continue doing so. You are not in a hopeless condition. There will be no poor house for you.” He hesitated. “And—you have friends,” he added awkwardly.
His words were meant kindly, to remind her that the Arundells were on her side. He hoped to lighten her gloom. But Sebastian did not know, could not understand, that in addition to the crushing revelation of her low birth was the realization that she could not be considered proper wife material. She would not be respectable, making her forever unfit for him. No amount of money could ever make her acceptable to this very proper man who stood to inherit a title. She sat in frozen silence. All her worst fears—true!
Rubbing his chin, Sebastian added, “Mr. Harley remains cautiously optimistic. You must adopt his attitude.”
She nodded disconsolately. But the thought of Mama, of her whole upbringing, how she’d been assured of a noble parent, and of the trust, made her cry indignantly, “It cannot be so black as it appears! If it were,” she said, looking up at him with anguished eyes, “I am sure my mother would have told me!” She flung her mind to grasp at anything else that might support her claim. “She was a church-going woman! And there is the ring,” she added, though in a weak tone.
“Indeed,” he said, bracingly. Whether to soothe her spirits or because there was conviction, she could not tell. But he added, nodding, “And your father’s name was recorded before being scratched out—this suggests a legitimate birth. Nor did the record say, 'Frances Fanshawe, baseborn child of X, which is usual in cases of illegitimacy. Let us be encouraged.”
Frannie’s heart took a lift, for he’d said, Let us be encouraged. Another thought occurred. “Could we apply to the rector or curate for the name? One of them might recall it on account of the unusual circumstance of it being scratched out.”
He shook his head. “There is a circulating rector who seldom visits, but he’s a new man; same for the curate, who’s been there only five years. The former churchmen are no longer living. In any case, the birth might have been recorded by a clerk. And no record of a marriage has turned up thus far. I’m afraid that without it, your father’s name shall remain a mystery for the time being.” He paused and approached the fire. Leaning over it to warm his hands, he added, “We’d have to put a Bow Street runner on the case to discover more, I think. But they don’t like civil disputes. They prefer weightier matters, unsolved murders and the like.” He turned and smiled. Frannie stared at him, savoring that smile—it seemed the sweetest in the world.
He turned back to the grate, but she continued gazing at him. In his pantaloons, boots, and jacket, Sebastian was a fine figure of a man. His features could often look stern, his eyes veiled, such as when he was quietly contemplating a matter, or looked up from the pages of a book. But when he smiled, every hard line vanished. In fact, it seemed only when he smiled that she saw his real nature, where his true feelings lay on a matter. Smiling as he was now, all was clear. He’d turned to her, his eyes infused with concern. For her.
It made her want to cry. For one miserable fact was seeping across her brain, trickling into every space in her heart. A miserable fact she had failed to suppress or prevent.
She loved him. She wasn’t just attracted to Mr. Arundell, as she’d previously thought. Oh, to be on equal footing with him! To have the luxury of hoping for something more to come of their acquaintance than what it was. He took a fireiron and stirred the coals while she tried to get hold of herself. When he turned to her again, rubbing his hands of coal dust, he said, “There is hope of a happy outcome. When we learn your father’s identity, there may yet be a perfectly respectable explanation, if unconventional. And if your parentage is not completely respectable, you may end up with a fortune nevertheless. You could live quietly anywhere you like. You needn’t be concerned with what society thinks.”
Frannie nodded reluctantly with a troubled countenance. Her heart told her she could never be unconcerned with what society thought. Dark images crossed her mind like turbulent ocean swells,