The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I felt a stab of pain. “I haven’t seen any of them in six years,” I snapped, a little harsher than I’d meant. “They didn’t make any attempt to contact me.”

  “True,” Uncle Jalil agreed.

  “And ... why didn’t they try to stop my father?” I could have kicked myself for not having asked earlier. “Surely, they could have brought him to heel.”

  “Different reasons for different kindred,” Uncle Jalil said. “Some didn’t know or care what your father was doing, as long as they received their allowance. Some thought he’d succeed - he could talk the talk, even if he couldn’t walk the walk - and stayed out of his way. And others had links outside the family. They were unwilling or unable to say anything, let alone do anything.”

  He made a face. “And Lucy ... they don’t know just how bad things are.”

  I shook my head. “They never thought to ask?”

  “Your father played games with the books,” Uncle Jalil said. “He was quite a creative accountant.”

  “And you helped him,” I said. “Right?”

  “I swore an oath, when he married my sister,” Uncle Jalil said. “I never married myself. I never had children. At my age, it is certain I never will. Your father - and you - were the only relatives I had left. Now, it’s just you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I meant it. “Why didn’t you ever ...?”

  Uncle Jalil said nothing for a long moment. “It never seemed the time,” he said. “And now” - he shook his head - “it is too late.”

  He pushed the folders towards me. “I’ll write the letter and bring it to you for approval,” he said. “You go through the papers, see how much the family owes ... maybe it’ll change your mind. You can still leave, Lucy. You don’t have to stay.”

  “I do,” I said. “This is my family.”

  “Make sure you wear armour when you go into the chamber,” Uncle Jalil said. “And cover your back. At least one of your relatives will try to put a knife in it.”

  “I’ll look the part,” I promised. “I’m sure they won’t try to kill me.”

  “Probably not literally,” Uncle Jalil agreed. “But you know what? They’ll do everything in their power to discredit you, if they scent weakness. And you don’t have anything like the clout your father or grandfather had ...”

  “We’ll see,” I said. I’d already had a couple of ideas. They might just buy me time to come up with something to improve the family fortunes. And if they didn’t ... I shook my head. I had to be optimistic. “Uncle ... can I count on you?”

  “You can count on me, as long as you listen to me,” Uncle Jalil said. “Your father never listened.”

  “I’ll listen,” I promised. “But I can’t say I’ll do as you wish.”

  Uncle Jalil laughed. “Believe me, I understand,” he said. He stood, brushing down his trousers. “Read the papers. Decide what you want to do. Ask me if you have any questions.”

  “I will,” I said. “And thank you.”

  “Hah.” Uncle Jalil didn’t look pleased. “I’ve done you no favours. You really should leave.”

  I watched him go, then poured myself another cup of tea as I opened the first folder. The accounts were fantastically complex, but ... I worked my way through them, doing my best to ignore the growing headache. Uncle Jalil had understated the situation, I realised slowly. My father had mingled his personal accounts with the family’s accounts, a major problem if one wanted to sort out what he’d owed personally from what the family owed. It was going to be an utter nightmare. He’d sold stuff to himself at knockdown prices - literally - so he could sell it onwards ...

  We have nothing to lose, I thought. It was true. I had very little that was truly mine. So we might as well gamble ...

  Slowly, carefully, I started to draw out a plan.

  Chapter Seven

  The meeting room looked ... clean.

  I hid my amusement as my kindred - those who could be bothered to attend the conclave - slowly filed into the room. Ellington had taken their coats, as they entered the hall; Jadish had offered them tea, coffee, juice or water as they passed through the door. They didn’t know - they couldn’t know - that we’d spent the last three days cleaning the room from top to bottom, brushing the floor, washing the windows and even hanging paintings on the walls to remind the voters that they were family. I wondered what they’d say, if they knew I’d been scrubbing with the servants. They’d probably have a collective heart attack.

  My face remained impassive as the room slowly filled. I remembered a couple of voters, vaguely, but most of them were effectively strangers. I wished I knew them better. Uncle Jalil and Jadish had filled me in, as best as possible, but they had no way to know which way the voters would jump when I forced them to make a choice. They might be happy to leave me in control, they might insist on someone older taking the role or ... worst of all, they might want me to have the title while exerting real power themselves. I couldn’t allow it. I had no intention of allowing them to turn me into a figurehead while they looted what remained of the family’s assets and vanished.

  I winced, inwardly. If anything, Uncle Jalil - now sitting at the far end of the table - had very definitely understated the case. The accounts were worse than I’d thought. We barely had two bronze ringlets to rub together. What little we earned had to be reinvested immediately, for fear of losing everything. And our debts were terrifyingly high. Even without the money my father had owed, we were in serious trouble. It might take a lifetime to pay them off.

  We don’t have a lifetime, I thought, as Jadish handed out drinks. Uncle Jalil’s figures had been very precise. We were eating our seed corn, what little there was of it. We have five years at the most.

  Jadish left, closing the door behind her. I walked forward and stood at the head of the table, hands clasped behind my back to keep them from shaking. Mistress Grayling had forced us to give speeches in public, insisting we learnt to speak even to hostile audiences. I silently blessed the old lady, even though she hadn’t been able to show us what it was like to speak to a roomful of kindred. The worst threat at school had been public humiliation. Here ... I could be kicked out of the family or simply voted off the council. I smiled as best as I could, trying not to show any fear. They’d take it as a sign of weakness.

  “I am Lucilla of House Lamplighter, Daughter of Lucas and Razwhana Lamplighter, Heir Primus and Matriarch Presumptive of House Lamplighter,” I said. They couldn’t dispute my titles without calling the entire family into question. “As such, in line with both family custom and the terms of my father’s will, I am declaring myself Matriarch of House Lamplighter. If any of you wish to challenge, or nominate someone else for the role, do so now or forever hold your peace.”

  My words hung in the air. I looked from face to face, wondering if anyone would take up the challenge. They’d certainly had ample time to do it over the last six years. Instead, they’d practically rubberstamped my position. I suspected that meant they didn’t realise how bad things had become. They’d have thought twice about my father nominating his successor if they’d understood just how much damage he’d done.

  I gave them nearly two minutes to formulate a response, then pressed on. They’d had plenty of time to plan a counter-nomination, if they’d wished. Only twelve kindred had bothered to attend. I snorted, inwardly. One didn’t have to be as cunning as Jagi Lamplighter, founder of our house, to realise someone could easily have packed the seats to ensure their candidate was selected. It would only have taken a handful of votes to unseat me, making it difficult for me to rule the family even if I regained my place. They knew it as well as I did. I knew better than to think it was a vote of confidence.

  “Very good,” I said. “And now, as Matriarch of House Lamplighter, I want my year. If any of you wish to oppose me, do so now or wait for a year. Anyone who attempts to oppose me before then will be regarded as a traitor and summarily disowned.”

  A rustle ran around the table. I waited, feeli
ng my heart thudding in my chest. If they refused to oppose me now, I’d have a year without any opposition from within the family. It was tradition, but House Lamplighter was in trouble. I wanted - I needed - to make it clear I was going to have my year. They couldn’t object if I hammered someone for opposing me before the year was out.

  “You are young,” Auntie Dorcas said. She was old enough to be my grandmother, although - as far as I could tell - she’d done nothing for the family. “You will require advice.”

  “I will happily listen to advice,” I told her. It was true, even though I doubted the elderly woman would have anything useful to say. “I will not brook open opposition.”

  I pushed on before someone else could throw the outcome into doubt. “This is your chance to oppose me,” I said. “After that, you have to give me my year.”

  Auntie Dorcas looked thoroughly displeased. The remainder of the kindred didn’t look any happier. I’d backed them into a corner. They could oppose me now, which would mean trying to find an alternate candidate, or let me have my head. They’d be disgraced if they tried to challenge me before the year was through. No one would ever trust them again. I suspected it didn’t matter as much as they thought, but my successor - whoever was unlucky enough to get the nomination and win the vote - would assume they’d put a knife in his back at the earliest opportunity. Either they stood against me now or they gave me a chance to prove myself.

  “I will take your silence for consent,” I informed them. “And now, I have something important to say.”

  I gathered myself. “The family is in serious trouble. We are practically bleeding money. We are the laughingstock of the city. Our industries are barely bringing in enough to repay their costs, our clients have largely deserted us and we have very little of value left to sell. Our goal, from this moment forth, will be to save ourselves from complete destruction and start the long climb back to the top. Do any of you have any objection to this goal?”

  There was no answer. I smiled, inwardly. Of course there was no objection. They weren’t fools, no matter what my father had thought. They knew the family’s position was steadily weakening, even though they hadn’t bothered to unseat my father before it was too late. I doubted it would have made much difference, although ... who knew? I had only a handful of ideas and practically all of them were risky as hell.

  “I expect you to put the family first,” I said. “All of you. Whatever we say or do in private, I want us to be one big happy family in public. No public arguments. No public disgraces. No secret off-the-record whining to the newspaper muckrakers. No scandals that make us look stupid or greedy or evil. Those of you who have married into other families” - I allowed my eyes to linger on two aunties who’d married out years ago - “will still be obliged to put our family first. If you want to leave now, then go. There will be no hard feelings. If you try to walk a line between the two families, or serve the other family solely, it will be regarded as betrayal and treated accordingly.”

  I braced myself, half-expecting half the table to stand and go. Auntie Gladys and Auntie Emma stood and headed for the door. Auntie Erica shifted, as if she was unsure if she should stay or go. I felt a flicker of sympathy, even though I knew it could be dangerous. Auntie Erica had married out, years before I was born, but her husband had died shortly afterwards. She was not wholly part of either family. It was easy to feel sorry for her, but I had no time for divided loyalties. I needed the council behind me. Anyone who refused to commit themselves had to go.

  “This is a mistake, child,” Auntie Erica said. “I can remain part of both families.”

  “Choose,” I said, remorselessly. I felt a pang of guilt, which I swiftly and ruthlessly suppressed. “One family or the other.”

  Auntie Erica opened her mouth, as if she intended to continue the argument, then closed it again without moving. I made a mental note to keep an eye on her, if she wanted to stay. No one would trust her again, if she betrayed me after a very clear warning, but that might not keep her from doing something stupid. I hoped I could rely on her ... I turned away, deliberately giving her the chance to leave. I doubted she’d go. Her other family had little time for her. She’d failed to get pregnant before her husband died.

  We’re cruel, sometimes, I reminded myself. I knew the reason. I knew all the justifications. But I couldn’t shed the feeling I’d done something wrong. Auntie Erica had done nothing to me. She certainly hadn’t been one of the older women who’d tried to make a lady out of me. I’ll do what I can for her, afterwards.

  “Very good.” I sat, indicating the discussion was now closed. I didn’t think they’d be loyal - and I doubted it would be a year before they started plotting against me - but I’d won some breathing space. “I assume you’ve all had a chance to read my father’s will. Do you have any comments?”

  “Just one,” Uncle Stefano said. “Does he have any right to leave so much to you?”

  Uncle Jalil cleared his throat. “Lord Lucas stated that his entire estate, save for a handful of individual bequests, was to be passed down to his sole child. There is no question he had every right to dispose of his property however he pleased. The only real question lies in what was his personally, as opposed to what was in his custody in his role as Patriarch, but as his heir in both roles is the same person I think we can afford to overlook it.”

  “It is never a good idea to overlook anything,” Uncle Stefano said. He was a lawyer, although he’d been out of practice for years. “We do not wish more of our property to be sold off.”

  “I have no intention of selling anything off,” I said. It wasn’t entirely true. I did have one thing that could be sold. “And we do have time to go through the collection and sort out his personal possessions. There’s no great hurry.”

  “Perhaps the matter could be put to a committee,” Auntie Dorcas said.

  It would certainly keep you out of trouble, I thought. But I want to go through my father’s papers first.

  I sighed, inwardly, as the argument roared around the table. It was pointless. The councillors wouldn’t be able to claim or use any of my father’s possessions, personal or not. They were wasting their time. I wondered, sourly, if they knew it. They might not have realised how bad things truly were.

  “There’s no great hurry,” I repeated. “Either way, the possessions will come to me.”

  “Perhaps you should draw up a will of your own,” Uncle Stefano said. “And make provision for your children.”

  “I have none,” I said, dryly. “Right now, providing for my children is hardly important.”

  “You do need to think about the future,” Auntie Dorcas said. “And you have to designate a Heir Primus.”

  “I’ll give the matter some thought,” I assured her. There weren’t any real candidates, not if I wanted to stick with tradition. The Heir Primus should come from the next generation, a generation that didn’t even exist. I had a pair of distant cousins who might qualify, but their parents hadn’t bothered to attend the conclave and they weren’t even in their teens ... I made a mental note to look into it. The wretched elder was right. I did need a named heir, at least until I had a child myself. “Perhaps you could form a committee to look into that as well.”

  “It might be better to look for a prospective husband for you,” Uncle Randolph said. “A child of your body would be ...”

  “The question of who I marry is none of your concern,” I said, cutting him off sharply. His point had hit too close to home. “My father did not see fit to arrange anything for me, Uncle, and he was the only one with the authority to do so. I can handle such affairs myself.”

  “The council is required to approve,” Auntie Dorcas said. “I believe we have that right.”

  “Not entirely,” I said. “By custom, the Family Head is required to approve. He - she - has the right to veto, or place conditions on a match. The council has the right to overrule the judgement, if the happy couple wish to challenge.”

  I allowed mys
elf a smile. It was a rather convoluted piece of reasoning, but it should stand up to scrutiny. I’d be in the odd position of approving my own match ... my smile grew wider. Technically, I’d also be passing judgement on myself. I’d hardly appeal against my own decision. And I had a year to do whatever I pleased before they could turn on me.

  “I intend to take this family back to the heights of power,” I said. “Rest assured, I will do nothing to harm it.”

  The words hung in the air for a long moment. “We’ll meet again in a week,” I added, keeping my voice calm. “Before then, I want you to prepare lists of your skills - magical, social, whatever - and those of your servants, clients and friends. We have a lot of work to do and I intend to hit the ground running. Our ancestors are looking down on us. I do not intend to disappoint them.”

  I smiled, then stood. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see you next week.”

  The councillors stood as I turned and headed out the room, signalling the meeting was over. They’d stay and chat, I suspected, although they wouldn’t say anything useful. I was the wardmaster. They’d have to assume I’d be listening to them. The hell of it was that I hadn’t had time to rig the wards, or do more than take control and add a handful of minor flourishes. They could sit and talk about the weather in perfect privacy.