Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,5

had lost the greater part of his suspicions.

He looked at Edward. “I’ll deal with you and the matter of my curricle later.” Turning his full attention to Frannie, he said, “Tell me your trouble, Miss Fanshawe.”

Frannie’s heart was in a tumble, for she was sure Mr. Sebastian Arundell was predisposed against her. Had he not referred to her as a street wench? And how alarmed she’d felt at his countenance when he’d rounded the bend. With spectacles and a book in hand, he was studious looking but with the fierce mien of a stern schoolmaster. The look soon changed, becoming less formidable, but his was a cynical soul, she was certain. Behind those spectacles she sensed the strict, proper countenance of a barrister or a cold clergyman, one that would stand upon the letter of the law and be anything but helpful to a woman in her circumstances. Yet what recourse did she have? The younger Mr. Arundell had promised this man would help. With little hope of success, she breathed a silent prayer that God would grant her favour as she spoke.

“You will scarcely credit my history, sir,” she began, “for ‘tis most unusual. I was raised by my mama, who died, I am sad to say, a year and six months ago; and Mrs. Baxter, a wealthy widow—er, at one time wealthy, that is—the dearest friend of my mother’s.”

“Your father?” Sebastian asked.

Frannie blushed and swallowed. “Well, my father, sir, is a nobleman—.”

“Who is he?”

The blush deepened. “As I said, I was raised by my mama, and given the assurance that my father guaranteed a trust fund for my use upon my majority.”

“And what is his name?” Sebastian persisted.

Frannie looked apologetic and now the blush ran to the roots of her hair. She clasped her hands uncertainly. “My mother and father had a great falling out of some kind. She—refused to speak of him. She never so much as gave me his name, his full name, that is. She said my future was secure only so long as I stayed wide of his family. I assume his name was Fanshawe.”

Only with careful control did Sebastian’s face not reveal his instant appraisal of this admission. Miss Fanshawe was a blow by!

She continued on, having little choice but to lay out her circumstances as best she could. “I was given the name of Mr. Charles Fanshawe, of Cheapside. His identity was only just furnished to me by Mrs. Baxter.”

“A nobleman? In Cheapside? By name of mister?”

Frannie shifted in her seat. “Mrs. Baxter said he must be my uncle; the case is puzzling, I own, but that the trust fund exists there can be no doubt. We received annual sums all my life, and they came, I was told, from the interest of the trust.”

“Did you never ask to meet your father?”

She shifted again, her fingers gripping the edges of the seat. “My mother gave me to believe he had died, and so of course that is what I accepted as true. I never thought to question what I was told. But—a fortnight ago—Mrs. Baxter revealed that my father lives! Yet she had only the name of Mr. Fanshawe of Cheapside, which made me wonder whether it was he. Mrs.Baxter was inclined to think he must know all the particulars of my case. And if this is true, he will know the identity of my father.”

She blinked back tears. “I—I know how irregular this must seem to you, sir. I assure you, I had rather not pursue the matter, for ‘tis mortifying! Only Mrs. Baxter left debts, you see. Apparently, while Mama and Mrs. Baxter allowed me to dress fashionably and for us all to live in comfort, debts were accruing all along. Mama should have given all of our income to Mrs. Baxter, whatever was sent on my behalf. But instead they chose to allow me to believe we suffered no want. I am afraid I—I gave all my means to cover the debts.” Frannie swallowed, valiantly not letting the lump in her throat that assailed her at every thought of her dearest Mama and Mrs. Baxter, get the better of her. Nor would she think about those horrible shopkeepers who descended upon the house and hounded her until she parted with nearly all she possessed.

“She left debts, you say. Has she absconded?”

“D-died, sir, a fortnight ago. Everything I’ve told you, she gave me to understand upon her deathbed.” Frannie hated the waver in her voice. But she added, “She’s in