Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,6
heaven now, God rest her soul.”
His eyes pierced hers. “I am sorry for your loss. But you paid her debts? From your own means?”
“I paid all I could. I gave almost all I had, but it wasn’t enough!”
“Great Scot!” he said. “You gave all you had?”
She stifled back a sob. “It wasn’t enough. They have taken the house and all we owned. I had to dismiss cook, and our manservant and laundrymaid; and then last night—as if my troubles were too small—my purse was snatched! I now have only what is contained in my portmanteau and a single trunk!” She dabbed at her eyes.
“Had you no advisor? No one to counsel that you could not be held responsible for this Mrs. Baxter’s debts?”
To his frowning look, she said, “Mrs. Baxter was ever, only, all kindness to me and my mother. How could I not endeavour to settle her accounts?”
To himself, he thought, kind enough to leave you in debt! But all he said was, “Was she a relation?”
“No, sir, a dear friend, the dearest of friends!” Again she blinked away wetness on her lashes and held a handkerchief to her nose until she’d conquered the moment.
To Sebastian, the case was now utterly clear. Miss Fanshawe was, in plain terms, an illegitimate brat that had managed to grow up in genteel circumstances. But wishing to know as much from curiosity as from necessity, he asked, “And how old are you?”
“I am but nineteen, sir.”
“So, if there is a trust, you have no legal access to it yet.” Gently he added, “No way to ascertain, even, that it exists, or that your father, if he lives, will acknowledge you.”
Frannie’s large eyes revealed the tumult in her heart. How foolish of her to suppose she could find help from a respectable gentleman of means! He had the disinterested mien of a magistrate and would of course find her case to be shocking. With a despairing heart, she said, eyes lowered, “Mr.—Mr. Fanshawe must be my connexion to the funds. That is what Mrs. Baxter tried to tell me. But sir, when I attempted to see him—as I told the younger Mr. Arundell—” here she gave a tearful glance to Edward, sitting silently in his seat; she swallowed, and finally conquering the urge to cry, finished, “This is the capstone of my misfortunes thus far—his wife turned me away! She—she said I was out to grabble what was not rightfully mine! So now it is quite impossible for me to discover more particulars of the case!”
He folded his hands upon the table, listening keenly. “So you are in dire straits, with no funds until this, er, trust is opened?”
Frannie nodded unhappily, her chocolate eyes pleading with him from their hopeless, troubled depths.
A sudden doubt crossed Sebastian’s mind: that the whole presentation was a fabrication, a means of soliciting sympathy with an eye for financial gain. Everything about Miss Fanshawe appeared utterly earnest, herself a blend of innocence and sensibility, her grief for recent losses seemingly of the gravest nature; but he seemed to recall hearing of similar elaborate ruses done by such innocent looking actors as this woman, and perpetrated on those foolish enough to believe the lies.
Miss Fanshawe leaned forward earnestly, looking quite pretty with cheeks rosy with emotion, and her large eyes appearing larger than ever.
“Sir—despite the unhappy mystery of my heritage, which I know you can only despise—” she looked away. “Indeed, I despise it myself,” she said, looking down at her hands. She looked up. “I beg of you: only point me to the proper authorities, someone who might help me gain an audience with Mr. Fanshawe, and I will trouble you no more. Believe me, sir, when I say I take no pleasure in asking! I am beyond mortification! I am painfully aware that I am, at this moment, very little different from a common—street urchin!” She bit her lip, blinked back tears, and refused to meet his eyes.
Sebastian, feeling his heart strings reluctantly moving toward this creature, said gently, “Normally such a dilemma could be easily resolved by applying to the benefactor of the trust; for he is the man, and the only man, with power to change the terms and relieve your current distress.” His look hardened as he added, “But for that you must know his identity.” He did not say the words that had flown to his mind, if he indeed exists.
Frannie’s lips tightened as she fought to control a sense of panic or the