Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,59
let it crash upon her at the cold and bustling water’s edge like an icy, wind-swept wave. No, he could not risk letting her hear it in the coarse language of a seaman, or of finding Mr. Fanshawe as implacable and unfriendly to her cause as his wife. Sebastian would be the first bearer of the news, the breaker, so to speak, between the harsh ocean and the shore of Frannie’s heart.
Frannie was disappointed, but she saw the wisdom in staying home, and felt Sebastian’s kindness in requiring it. She hadn’t considered how uncomfortable and long might be the wait at the dirty and busy London docks; and what if Mr. Fanshawe was much like his wife? Imagine the scene if he met her with the anger and resentment of his spouse. She would be publicly humiliated, mortified beyond her present mortification. It was more than she wished to bear.
She thanked him for taking such trouble on her behalf.
Sebastian said, “But of course. You are part of our home now, dear Frannie. Your concerns must be ours as well.” She held her breath. Sebastian had never called her by her Christian name before. She had heard him refer to her by name when speaking to his mother or Edward about her, but never had he used her name in conversation with her. And he had said, dear Frannie.
And then something unexpected and breathless and astonishing happened. He leaned in toward her and his mouth hovered for two seconds near her own. He moved slightly and planted a small kiss—on her cheek. Her heart soared. He bowed, and, after reassuring her that her troubles were nearly at an end, he strode quickly off. She was left in the corridor, stunned with joy.
She returned to her bedchamber replaying the scene over and over. Had he almost kissed her on the mouth? Had he wanted to? She thought at first that he had. But it happened very quickly and in the end he’d only kissed her cheek. Like a brother. Or like any affectionate relation. What had he said? “You are part of our home now.” He might have meant it the way a servant becomes part of the household, a trusted, much- liked servant—but not an equal.
She tried to replay the scene with a different interpretation but could not convince herself the gesture was anything more than detached affection, perhaps even pity. He was too familiar with the ways of humanity to expect a completely felicitous ending to Frannie’s dilemma, and felt sorry for her. He expected she was to face a crushing blow to all her hopes. Indeed, she realized now that was probably the motive for his keeping her home. He wanted to spare her for as long as possible, the poor, baseborn child!
On an impulse she fled her room, rushing into the corridor and down its carpeted length to a window overlooking the street. She watched while Sebastian’s coach pulled away. With a pang, she realized another disappointment about not accompanying him to meet the ship. She could not yet set eyes upon Mr. Fanshawe—her uncle. He, more than any human being on earth, possessed the information she wanted more than any fortune—the identity of her father. And even if he proved to be ignorant of the circumstances of her birth or—horrors!—resentful of her appearing, he was nevertheless her mother’s brother and nearest relation. She had such curiosity about him. Did he look like Mama? Did he share her mannerisms? Oh, Mama! How I miss you! A tear slid from one eye and made its way down her cheek. She did not wipe it away. It was the one that Sebastian had kissed.
But why, why, Mama, did you leave me such a tangle?
Frannie could not return to sleep amidst all her musings and anxieties of the coming day. She resigned herself to an early breakfast alone in the morning room, for Edward and Mrs. Arundell had not yet risen. While she waited for coffee, Tipps placed the Morning Chronicle before her. She didn’t often get to read it first, as it went from Sebastian to Mrs. Arundell to Edward, if he were interested, before reaching her hands. But she went straight in search for the maritime news. Sure enough, The Golden Sovereign, a mercantile clipper ship, was expected to dock, and with holds filled with carpets and spices, China tea and Indian silks.
Next to the listing of arrivals was an article enumerating the numerous sea hazards that must be