Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,64

my prayers are that everything shall end as we hope, but—”

Mrs. Arundell’s eyes strayed above Frannie’s head to the clock on the mantel. “Frannie dear, there is no need at all to speak of it. I know all the particulars, I assure you. Now, come, ‘tis time to dress for dinner.”

With a heavy heart, Frannie followed the lady from the room, bade her goodbye at her bedchamber door and continued to her own. Could it be true that Mrs. Arundell was in possession of every particular of the case? Did she really understand how tenuous Frannie’s claim to gentility was? To respectability? She’d have to speak again to Sebastian. He must ensure that his mother understood it rightly. She assumed, of course, that if Mrs. Arundell really grasped the uncertainty of Frannie’s situation, that her attitude would reflect that knowledge. She would cease to put forth the foolish idea of Frannie marrying the baronet, for one thing. Most upper-class matrons wouldn’t even want her in their home, let alone one with unmarried sons about. Perhaps Penelope Arundell knew Beau, that is, Sebastian, too well to be worried. He’d never showed the least interest in marriage, even Edward attested to that. And for Edward she had no fear of Frannie probably because she was older than he.

That must be it! Mrs. Arundell cared not whether Frannie had a fortune or not, for it mattered not. Neither son was in danger. As for marrying the baronet, it was just as she said. She wanted an amiable, sweet girl for him, and Frannie seemed just that. It did not answer as to why the woman treated Frannie quite so well, almost like family. Frannie almost wished to ask her, point blank, why. But she supposed she must be thankful for it and leave it at that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Earlier that day, aboard Golden Sovereign

Mr. Fanshawe’s cabin boy scurried to get his officer’s trunk packed. Golden Sovereign was soon to dock in London, and the 1st Officer had barked at him to “do it handsomely, now,” which meant, make quick work of it. He wanted no needless delays. Another officer would have his cabin boy scurrying even faster, working harder, but Mr. Fanshawe, everyone knew, was light on discipline. Nevertheless, the cabin boy moved with speed. Every man and boy on board yearned to get home to his family.

A flurry of shouts signified contact with another ship, and though he shouldn’t have left his task, the cabin boy went to take a peek. As he reached the quarterdeck, a crewman told him that an outgoing merchant ship had flagged them to deliver a message for an officer. A moment later, a note was thrust into his hand. “Fer yer master,” said the seaman.

Minutes later 1st Officer Charles Fanshawe was reading the note. “There’s trouble with the law,” it said. “A monstrous legal claim is being threatened upon us. They’ll be waiting for ye on the docks, I warrant. Land agents, I suppose. Disguise yourself and don’t hobble it! Will explain all later. Yr loving wife.”

He put the note away calmly, but with an inward frown. What on earth could have happened to cause “a monstrous legal claim” against him? Or that land agents—those relentless devils—should be awaiting him? Whatever it was, his wife was right in that he must evade them at all costs unless he wished to find himself in debtor’s prison!

If she’d only stated the amount due, he might have faced the men with confidence. Captain Jennings had only just doled out his wages, and he felt surely it must be sufficient to quiet all creditors. How his family had got in the duns during his voyage was a troubling matter. But his wife’s warning about the land agents was enough to make him—or any man in his place—determined to avoid capture. Land agents were ruthless, would pull a man right out of his chair at dinner or anywhere else, to bring him in for arrears. Until he found out more about this “monstrous legal claim,” he had no choice but to skirt the clutches of the law.

He found a crewman willing to part with a change of clothing—temporarily, as it would have to be returned—and changed from his uniform to look like an average hand. The agents would be searching for an officer. He pulled a cap down at a jaunty angle over his face. After alerting the captain to his dilemma, he disembarked at the earliest possible moment with other seamen who