Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,74
wished; tell him sheʼd gone to America.” His grey eyes creased with long forgotten sorrow. “ʼTwas an unpleasant business. I should like very much to set it all straight, tell him everything I know.” He nodded. “And most of all, how his own father is to thank for it.”
His wife frowned at him. “If you hold off, he’ll learn about his child some other way; she will get the fortune; and we shall have naught. Is that what you want?”
“I like it, Papa,” said Catherine approvingly. “And may I write to Miss Fanshawe? She is longing to know anything regarding her family history.”
“I daresay there’s a mistress of the manor by now who won’t be eager to take in this waif!” huffed Mrs. Fanshawe.
“She is the legal child of the present baronet of Bartlett Hall,” said Mr. Fanshawe quietly. “I do not believe there is a new mistress.” To Catherine he said, “Hold off on your letter to Miss Fanshawe. Until I hear from him.”
“Who is this man, the current baronet of this place?” demanded his wife with a sneer.
Mr. Fanshawe looked down at his cup. Quietly he said, “His name is Sir Hugo.”
After congratulating herself for extracting this much from her husband, Mrs. Fanshawe excused herself to make a few inquiries of the innkeeper. She returned shortly, beaming with suppressed excitement. “I should like very much to see Bartlett Hall, Mr. Fanshawe,” she said enthusiastically, “for the innkeeper assures me we are no more than an hour distant by coach! And what do you know? The baronet is hosting a Christmas Open Hall! Is that not providential?”
“To what do you refer to as providential, Mrs. Fanshawe?” asked her husband, who failed to see the source of her private joy. “That we are in the vicinity of the Hall, or that the baronet is opening it to his tenants? For I little see how his entertainment can concern us.”
“ʼTis providential on both accounts,” she insisted. “Not only may we take a drive past today to catch a glimpse of the big house, but the Hall shall be opened with music and refreshments for the tenants and townsfolk tomorrow! We can enter along with other common folk; we’ll see the manor and beg an audience with His Lordship!”
Mr. Fanshawe eyed his wife and then looked at Catherine. “If Cat has no objection, I see no harm in a drive past,” he said, for he was not above curiosity regarding the grand estate that his sister had been coerced into giving up her right to. “But Christmas approaches apace, m’dear. I’m sure you’ve got a pudding and other good things set by. You’ll want to be home, no doubt.”
In a conciliatory tone she said, “We shall of course enjoy our own Christmas dinner and fireside, sir. But that is two nights away, yet! The open hall is tomorrow. Your holiday shanʼt be ruined, and we may get a Christmas present from the baronet, I’ve no doubt.”
“You must tell Sir Hugo what you know,” agreed Catherine, who, upon reflection, considered that even if they could not enlighten Miss Fanshawe beforehand, certainly Sir Hugo would wish to know his daughter. “If we indeed attend this open hall, he will make an appearance and you must speak to him, Papa! It cannot be a coincidence that he opens his home tomorrow, just when we are in the vicinity, and when you have such intimate knowledge of his family that any feeling man must be in want of.”
She glanced at her mama, who was vigorously shaking her head in agreement. “Besides which,” Catherine continued, “if you speak with him, it shall all be settled, and Iʼll know what to say to Whitby after church on Christmas Day.” Her words held a shadow of sorrow, and an uncomfortable silence ensued. Mrs. Fanshawe said, “Do not speak to Whitby of the lost fortune, my dear. A disagreeable thing it would be to break such news to him on Christmas!” She turned to her husband and cried, “For Catherineʼs sake, you must procure some good from this, sir!”
Mr. Fanshaweʼs mild wrinkles creased as his lips firmed in a line, but the most he would commit to procuring was, “If the baronet welcomes our news, perhaps he will see his way to some recompense.”
“Either way, I must speak to Whitby and inform him,” said Catherine.
“Of course,” agreed her father.
But suddenly Mrs. Fanshawe gasped and put a hand to her heart. “My dear sir! It just occurs to me. There is