Free Sylvia Andrew by Francesca

Chizzle, as the local curate and Miss Shelwood’s chaplain, received a modest sum, Agnes Cotter quite a large one. The rest of Miss Shelwood’s estate was left to a fund for building and maintaining almshouses in a neighbouring town. Francesca’s name was not mentioned in the document.
    Gasps of astonishment came from the servants—Betsy even voiced her disapproval out loud. But Francesca herself was not at all surprised. It was a blow, but one for which she had been prepared. The question of a post as a governess had now become urgent, and she decided to consult the family lawyer, Mr Barton, on the best way to set about doing this.
    The others finally went. Mr Chizzle took his leave so warmly that Francesca began to wonder whether she had been mistaken in him all these years. He was most pressing that he should come again to see her the next day and, thoughshe was reluctant, she eventually gave in, largely because it was the only way she could be rid of him.
    But when she mentioned her intention of seeking a post as governess, Mr Barton was astounded. ‘My dear Miss Shelwood! What on earth for? You now have control of the money left by your grandfather.’
    ‘It is hardly enough to keep me, sir!’
    ‘Well, that is a matter of opinion. I should have thought that seventy thousand pounds was enough for anyone! Together with what the Shelwood estate brings in, it is a considerable fortune.’
    Francesca sat down rather suddenly on a convenient chair. ‘Seventy…? Do you…do you mean to tell me that my grandfather left his whole estate to me?’
    ‘Most of it. He left a sum of money outright to the late Miss Shelwood, and the rest was put into trust for you until you reached the age of twenty-five, in November of this year. The arrangement was that, during her lifetime, your aunt would run the estate and receive half of the income from it. The other half was put back into the Shelwood trust, which is why it has now grown to such a handsome fortune.’
    ‘How much did you say it was?’ asked Francesca faintly.
    ‘About seventy thousand pounds. The trust was set up for the benefit of you and your children, and has certain safeguards which are in the discretion of the trustees. But you will have more than enough to live on, nevertheless. Shelwood is a thriving concern, and should provide you with an income of about ten thousand pounds per annum. Do you mean to say that Miss Shelwood never told you of this?’
    ‘No. I had no idea…’
    Mr Barton looked uneasy. ‘I have been remiss. I agreed with your aunt that you were too young to be burdened with it at the time of your grandfather’s death, but I ought to have made sure you knew later. But I have to say in my owndefence that it simply never occurred to me that she would keep it from you. Why should she?’
    ‘My aunt…my aunt was a secretive woman, Mr Barton,’ was all Francesca said, however. Aunt Cassandra was dead. No good would be done by raking over the past.
    ‘Hmm. I knew of course that she was dissatisfied with the arrangement, but still…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I can see that you have had a shock and need time to assimilate the news, Miss Shelwood, so I will not weary you. I should perhaps just add that one, somewhat curious, condition of the trust is that no one else—neither your father, Lord Beaudon, as your legal guardian, nor a future husband could benefit from it. Only you or your children may have use of it.’
    ‘Since my father has never acknowledged me, he could hardly claim legal guardianship!’
    ‘You are now of age, of course. But until you were twenty-one, he could always have claimed it, had he wished.’
    ‘Even though I am illegitimate?’
    The lawyer was astounded. ‘Whatever gave you that impression, Miss Shelwood?’
    ‘I…I was told…that is to say, I…was led to believe that there is no record of my parents’ marriage.’
    ‘What nonsense! Of course there is! I have all the relevant documents in my safe. Your