Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,88

expression cleared and he murmured, “Frannie, yes. Of course.” With a much concerned look, and pursed lips, he said curtly, “I must see this lady, Penelope. If you don’t mind—” He drew a handkerchief from a waistcoat pocket and wiped his brow, which seemed suddenly to have broken out in a sweat.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll come along!” she said decisively.

“I will only speak to ‘is Lordship!” cried Mrs. Fanshawe. Mrs. Arundell surveyed her, taking in the red cheeks, the worn shoes, the quality of her gown, the belligerent expression. She nodded shortly, but with pursed lips. “I’ll wait, then,” she said to Sir Hugo.

Sir Hugo, looking shaken, motioned the woman into his study. Once inside, he offered her a seat and sat down heavily behind his desk as if his legs had gone weak.

In the corridor, Mrs. Arundell looked at Edward in surprise. “Find Beau! He’ll want to know about this!” Edward nodded and headed back to the great room. But he didn’t expect to find Sebastian. He’d taken Frannie driving, the usurper, and would likely be miles away by now.

Mrs. Arundell, after watching Edward ‘til he rounded the bend, crept silently to the door of the study. She adjusted the little hearing device in her ear, and then carefully put that ear up against the door near the keyhole.

Frannie and Sebastian, in the little ante room which connected to the study, heard the sound of voices coming from within. “My cousin’s voice!” Sebastian said. “Let us apprise him of our happy news.”

Frannie hesitated. “But will he approve? Surely he will want to know what I can bring to the match.”

Sebastian smiled. “Only minutes ago you feared he wanted to marry you! Now you fret that he shan’t approve of you for his heir?”

She grinned sheepishly. “I always marveled that he could approve of me, and wondered why your mother did.”

“All you need, dearest, is my approval, and that you have.” He pulled her close against him once more and kissed her. Then, taking her hand, he moved them toward the door to the study.

Inside the study, the baronet rose to pour himself a quick drink, motioning for Mrs. Fanshawe to speak.

“I am the wife of Charles Fanshawe,” she began.

The baronet nodded his head. “Yes, yes, as I suspected.”

Behind the door, Sebastian froze. “Why, I believe it’s that termagant, your aunt!”

“She is a shrew!” whispered Frannie, “But what business could she have with Sir Hugo?”

“She may be in search of us,” he said, though doubtfully. “Let’s hold off going in until we hear what she wants.”

In the study, Mrs. Fanshawe repeated, as though to be certain the baronet understood the connexion, “Charles Fanshawe’s wife, Margaret’s brother.”

“Have you been in contact with Margaret?” he asked urgently.

Here Mrs. Fanshawe hesitated, giving him a cautious look. “She’s gone these eighteen months, sir.”

“Eighteen months! She left England above eighteen years ago, madam.”

“Nay, sir, she’s gone. To the grave, sir! She’s dead these eighteen months.”

He stared. Quietly he said, “I was given that news. But how did you learn it? You had word from America?”

The lady hesitated. “From Lincolnshire, sir. But that’s not what I’m here for.”

But now he set his drink down and stared at her with consternation. “Lincolnshire?” His face grew exceedingly red. “Here in England? All this time! It cannot be.” He looked at her sternly. “What has Lincolnshire to do with it? Your husband swore she’d left for America!”

“Yes, sir, that he did; thanks to your father!” She shifted in her seat and nervously wiped her palms on her gown. “But it were a lie. She lived in Lincolnshire, sir!”

He leveled a baleful gaze upon her, but soon his look became forlorn. His lips pursed. “Do you mean to say she never was farther from me than Lincolnshire? What—what do you know of her child?”

“She’s the very reason why I come, sir!” she said with a nod, and swallowed. “My husband and I adopted her.”

He looked thunderstruck. “Adopted her? You adopted Margaret’s child?”

She seemed to grow slightly paler. A little more hesitantly she said, “We…we named her Catherine. Your father promised a trust fund to her, he did.”

He stared at her down his nose. “I called upon your husband in search of Margaret, my lawful wife. You had a daughter already at that time, a daughter named Catherine, if I do not misremember.”

The woman swallowed. “ʼTwas her daughter. The mother didn’t want her.”

There was the sound of a muffled noise, and suddenly the inner door to the study burst open.