Yet she couldn't forget it. Not quite. She herself was not sure why. Perhaps it was just that her curiosity had been aroused, or that she wanted to know more about the mother she had lost. But if she was honest with herself, there was more to it than that and the truth was not very comfortable.

For if I really am connected to such people, she thought, then I am ashamed of it. I am afraid to acknowledge members of my own family. How can I defend such cowardice?

It was in this frame of mind that she realized there was one person who almost certainly knew: Edward's and Louisa's father, her mother's half-brother - Mr Totton. Perhaps she could ask him. Yet here a certain discretion held her back. If he knew and had never spoken of it, he might have his own reasons. Living, as he did, practically in the town, Mr Totton might not thank her for making him talk about even a half-sister's connection to its less respectable elements. Whatever her curiosity about the matter, she decided not to approach him.

That left only one other source of information, potentially the most dangerous of all: the Seagulls themselves. Even if there was a connection, did the present Seagulls know it? Perhaps not, or maybe they had chosen to keep silent. Or, yet another possibility, possibly they and others in Lymington knew, but it had never come to her ears. What would happen if she approached them? Would they suddenly claim her as one of their own, embarrass her, annoy the Tottons and - it came back to this after all - undermine her own position in society? It would surely be folly to go near the Seagulls.

She had proceeded no further with this delicate matter when news of a different kind drove it, briefly, out of her mind.

'Fanny, have you heard?' Her cousin Louisa had taken a chaise by herself and come all the way to Albion House to share the news. 'My dear, dear Fanny, what do you think? Mr Martell has asked Edward to stay with him in Dorset. And he has particularly asked that I may come too. We are to leave next week. Oh, kiss me, Fanny,' she cried in delight. 'I am so excited.'

'I am sure' - Fanny managed to smile - 'that it will be a delightful visit.'

She had wondered, after Louisa had gone, if perhaps she might also be invited, but days passed and no invitation came. She told herself it was natural that Mr Martell should repay the Tottons' hospitality, yet still continued, despite her better judgement, to hope. Perhaps, she thought, Mr Martell will write or send some message. Although I really don't know, she scolded herself, why he should. He didn't, anyway, and ten days after Louisa's visit, the two young Tottons left for Dorset, after which she felt very much alone.