“Remember to pay your respects to the young lady,” Auntie Dorcas shouted, once we were inside. The band was loud, making it hard for me to hear. “And then you can dance with the young gentlemen.”
I shot her a sharp look as the ballroom continued to fill with guests. House Bolingbroke had so many friends, clients and enemies that the hall was absolutely packed ... I felt a twinge of envy as I made my way around the room, noting who was in and who was out. The Grande Dames were cutting some younger women dead, probably for an imagined slight or two. Or simple jealously. The younger women were prettier, at the start of their lives ... and, I realised suddenly, soon to be in a position to wield real power. I felt an odd flicker of sympathy as I started to eavesdrop again, hoping to hear something useful. The Grande Dames were utterly dependent on their families, yet powerless to influence policy. They dominated the social scene because it was all they had.
The thought depressed me as I circled the room, turning down a couple of invitations to the dance floor. I liked dancing, normally, but that wasn’t why I was here. The young men didn’t seem to care. I allowed myself a droll smile as I noted where the exits were, carefully matching them to the floor plans my father had obtained. Bolingbroke Hall was a business centre, as well as a home. And I knew where Robin Bolingbroke lived and worked.
I took a drink and sipped, pretending to be sociable as I picked the man himself out from the crowd. He was dancing with his mistress, defying social convention with a zest I couldn’t help admiring even as I felt sorry for the poor woman. The Grande Dames didn’t try to hide their disgust. They’d have done something a great deal worse if they weren’t dependent on their family. Robin had enough influence to smack down anyone who tried to impede his life.
The music died away. I tensed as the crowd pushed me forward, lining up by the stairs. A whisper of anticipation ran through the air, all eyes turning to the upper levels. Clarian Bolingbroke stood at the top, wearing a virgin-white dress. Her hair fell to her shoulders, no longer in braids. She walked down the stairs with a grace I could only admire, presenting herself - for the first time - as an adult in her own right. My eyes picked out Alana, standing at the other side of the hall. Her face was unreadable, suggesting she was far from happy. It couldn’t be easy for her to watch her peers become adults. Her hair was still firmly in braids. I wanted to tell her not to be silly. She’d become an adult soon enough.
When it’s politically convenient, I mused. And who knows when that will be?
Clarian Bolingbroke reached the bottom of the stairs. A young man came forward, took her arm and led her onto the dance floor. I guessed, from the way he held her, that House Bolingbroke had chosen him for political reasons. There was no hint they’d known each other before the ceremony. Other dancers moved onto the floor as the band struck up a merry tune. Clarian would dance with dozens of young men. She couldn’t show favour to anyone unless she was already betrothed or engaged.
I slipped away, making my way towards the side doors as more and more dancers hurried onto the floor. No one spared me a glance as I slipped into the corridors, then headed up the stairs. House Bolingbroke provided private rooms for the guests - although how private they were was anyone’s guess - on an upper floor. I felt my heart pound as I reached the second floor, then headed up another level. The wards didn’t seem inclined to notice me - there was something weird about them, as if they’d been put together by someone who didn’t quite know what they were doing - but I was sure that’d change before too long. They’d almost certainly be privacy wards on the bedroom doors.
Sweat prickled on my back as I reached Robin Bolingbroke’s office. I’d prepared a cover story, but I knew it would raise suspicions if I was caught. I wouldn’t be looking at a year’s detentions or a simple caning this time. There was a charm on the doorknob, a simple alarm spell combined with a lock ... I studied the spellform as quickly as I could, then started to push it aside. It would have been easy to simply take the spell apart, but that would be far too revealing when Robin Bolingbroke returned. Instead, I weakened it enough to allow me entry without setting off any alarms.
I braced myself as I stepped inside. I really was crossing a line. If I was caught ... I put the thought out of my head as I closed the door behind me, glancing around with interest. The room was crammed with filing cabinets, the walls practically covered in them ... I wanted to stay and search, but there was no time. Instead, I hurried to the desk and peered down at the paperwork. Bills of lading, private notes ... a handful charmed so heavily that their mere existence was more than a little revealing too. No one would go to so much trouble unless they had something to hide. I felt another stab of envy as I studied the paperwork. Robin Bolingbroke handled more money, with each transaction, than I’d handled in my entire life. I wasn’t sure how he got away with it.
Because he’s good at what he does, I thought. I’d seen the man drunk out of his mind, but ... I’d seen him at his worst. He was probably much better behaved during the day. And because he has the contacts to make things go smoothly.
I forced myself to go through the papers, one by one. Individually, they told me little of use. Together ... I frowned as I realised Robin Bolingbroke was hoarding Silverdale ore. It was odd. Silverdale was used to make a handful of Devices of Power, from what little I recalled of my forging classes. It was important, but not that important. Why would anyone want to hoard it, particularly in such vast quantities? What was he planning to do?
It’s the only thing he’s keeping for himself, I thought, as I finished searching the visible papers. Everything else ... he’s the middleman.
I straightened up, glancing around the room. It was bare and barren, save for the filing cabinets and the handful of trading newspapers pinned to the noticeboard. I hurried over and peered at the snippets. Raw ore prices, combined with production costs ...? I smiled as the truth struck me. House Bolingbroke’s mines were running dry. There were other seams, from what I recalled, but they’d take time to develop. The price was about to go up ...
Time to leave, I told myself. The dancing wouldn’t last forever. I was morbidly sure Robin Bolingbroke wouldn’t stay downstairs forever. He’d have to make a show of supporting his ... niece? Great-niece? I didn’t know, but I doubted it mattered. He wouldn’t stay any longer than strictly necessary. He’ll be up here soon enough.
I walked back to the door, paused long enough to make sure there was no one on the other side, then sneaked outside, returning the charm to its normal level. The wards seemed undisturbed. A chill ran down my spine as I realised I’d pushed my luck as far as it would go. I turned and hurried down the corridor, hoping and praying I’d reach the stairs before someone came along. I might be able to talk my way out of trouble, I might not. I’d been able to sneak into student bedrooms and read their papers - or do worse - without being detected, but a Great House was a far harder nut to crack. Next time, it might be a lot harder. Robin Bolingbroke needed to keep his office fairly close to the doors. The Patriarch had no such requirement.
It was hard not to break into a run as I slipped down the stairs and headed back to the hall. There was nothing more suspicious than someone on the run, save perhaps for someone whistling tunelessly while pretending they were doing nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned to the ballroom, hoping no one had noticed my brief excursion. I didn’t think anyone would care if I sought a private room ... I shook my head. It was over. Over and done with. And I had a piece of very useful information indeed.
A young man popped up in front of me. “Would you like to dance?”
“Why not?” I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor. “It’s been too long since I danced.”
He grinned. “Just don’t step on my foot too often,” he said. “Please.”
I allowed myself a smile, remembering the handful of carefully-chaperoned dances at Grayling’s. They’d been the only time men - boys, at least - had been allowed onto the grounds. We’d had to practice by dan
cing with other girls, leading to endless arguments over who was the man and who was the woman. I felt my smile grow wider as we swayed around the dance floor. Robin Bolingbroke was still dancing with his mistress, pawing at her as they moved in time to the music. I wondered if I could hit him with a tripping hex, then put the thought out of my head before I could act on it. My family didn’t need more enemies. I’d be in enough trouble if they realised what I’d done.
My partner winked. “Do you want to sneak off?”
I felt myself blush. “My auntie would have something to say, if I did,” I said. I was surprised he’d made the offer so ... publicly. I’d certainly overhead a lot of very useful titbits of information on the dance floor. Did he know who I was? I didn’t think so. His offer had too many political implications for me to take it seriously. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Brantley. Brantley of House Braddock.” He smiled at me. “I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”
“I might have heard a whisper or two,” I lied, mischievously. House Braddock was a younger house, with a surprising amount of power and influence for such a relative newcomer. They even had a seat on Magus Court. “Lucy. Lucy of House Lamplighter.”
His expression froze, just for a second. “I look forward to meeting you at our ball,” he said, so smoothly it would have been hard to tell he’d been surprised if I hadn’t seen his face. “I hope you’ll do us the honour of attending.”
“I’ll certainly do my best,” I said. Another young man waved at me. “But I can’t dance with you all night.”
I thought fast, allowing my body to move on instinct as I glided from partner to partner. He’d definitely heard my name ... I told myself I was being stupid. My name had been in all the papers, only a week ago. It was quite possible Brantley would have backed off, if I’d so much as hinted I might be interested. I didn’t think he was the Heir Primus - I thought that was his older sister - but I could be wrong. If something - or someone - happened to the older girl, he’d be first in line to inherit ...
And you’re thinking like a silly little girl, I told myself, sharply. I’d become an adult, the moment I allowed my hair to hang down. You cannot let yourself pretend there will be no consequences any longer.
I nodded to my latest partner as the music came to an end, then headed for the buffet. There was no sign of Auntie Dorcas, somewhat to my surprise. She was old enough to be a Grand Dame, but ... would they accept her? She didn’t have a major family allowance or any real influence ... perhaps she’d tell them I did whatever she said. That would blow up in her face, if House Bolingbroke realised what I’d done. I was almost tempted to hint at it ... I shook my head. If someone was to take the blame, it would have to be me.
“Hey.” I looked up to see Clarian Bolingbroke’s pale face. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”
I tried not to show my surprise. Clarian Bolingbroke was a year younger than me ... and a stranger. I didn’t think I’d ever spent time with her when I’d been a child. It was possible, but unlikely. I straightened, studying her with interest. She was tall, yet almost disturbingly thin. Raven-black hair hung down to the small of her back. Her face looked almost like a china doll. I was suddenly afraid to touch her for fear she’d break. It was an odd look, striking yet slightly disconcerting. I wondered what she was trying to achieve.
“Fantastic,” I said. I knew how to make nice with people I neither liked nor trusted, but ... there was something about Clarian that made it hard to know how to handle her. “What can I do for you?”
Clarian looked down. “What’s it like, running a family?”
“Very hard,” I said, slowly. Clarian would never have to worry about money - or anything, really. She could sit back and let her parents run her life. I told myself that wasn’t a good thing. “But at least I get to tell the old folks to shut up every so often.”
She smiled. It made her look even more like a doll. “That must be fun.”
“It is my solemn duty to tell them to shut their mouths every once in a while,” I said, my best deadpan look on my face. I didn’t want to like Clarian, did I? “It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.”
Clarian’s smile grew brighter. “We were planning to hold a party,” she said. “Can we hire your hall?”
My eyebrows crawled up. We? “I certainly think so,” I said. “Who’s running the party?”
“Me.” Clarian hesitated, noticeably. “Me and a few friends.”
“All young, I take it.” I felt a flicker of envy. Clarian and her friends were too young to be taken entirely seriously, even if they no longer wore their hair in braids. “Drop me a letter and we’ll make the arrangements.”
I winced as I saw Auntie Dorcas emerge from the throng and start waving at me. “And I have to go,” I added. “I’ll speak to you later?”
Clarian nodded and headed off. I watched her go, then turned and joined Auntie Dorcas as she set course towards the exit. I was tempted to point out she should have asked before she headed outside, but I was ready to go too. If someone realised what I’d done ... I shook my head. They wouldn’t make a scene in public. Not here, not where it would highlight weaknesses in their defences. They’d do something later, where it wouldn’t be seen.
“I made some useful contacts,” Auntie Dorcas said. “We’ll have to invite them to our next ball.”
“Oh goody,” I said. My mind was elsewhere. “Do you think they’ll be beneficial?”
Auntie Dorcas sniffed as we clambered into the carriage and rattled back home. I did my best to ignore her. I could have walked, easily ... I doubted anyone would have really noticed or cared. I wasn’t that important. Remaining unimportant - or at least neutral - was the key to our survival.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, when the carriage reached Lamplighter Hall. Thankfully, Auntie Dorcas had declined to move into the hall. “Have a good evening.”
I jumped out of the carriage and walked up the driveway. The lawn looked freshly mown, even though I knew it was an illusion. The potions gardens had been carefully sealed off ... we were going to have to deal with them, somehow. I’d have to hire a gardener, if I couldn’t find a master who’d be interested in taking care of it. I knew a little something about potions, but not enough to handle it myself.
Uncle Jalil met me as I stepped into the hall. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah.” I met his eyes. “And I want you to do something for me.”
His eyes narrowed as I headed for the stairs. I didn’t want him asking questions, not now.
“I want you to take the rest of the money and purchase as much Silverdale ore as you can,” I said. “Do it covertly. Try to make sure no one actually knows what we’re doing. But try to build up a hoard as quickly as possible.”
“What?” Uncle Jalil sounded disconcerted to be firing questions at my back. “Lucy ... what do you mean?”
“I mean I want you to purchase the ore for me,” I said, crossly. I was too tired to think about anything else, not right now. “And I don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”
There was a long pause. “Lucy ... is that what you want?”
“Yes.” I stopped and turned to face him. “We have to gamble. So, we’re going to gamble.”
Uncle Jalil looked displeased. “Yes, My Lady.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I don’t really feel bad about missing graduation,” Kate said, as we sat down for dinner in a cafe. “Did you hear the news?”
I raised my eyebrows. “No. What happened?”
Kate smiled. “Apparently, Capua got covered in paint,” she said. “Someone who shall remain nameless, even though everyone knows who did it, rigged a charm to drop paint on her when she was midway through her speech.”
I giggled. Capua had been one of Marlene’s cronies. “And what happened then?”
“Well, according to the letter, everyone laughed like loons,” Kate said. “How terrible.”
“How terrible,” I echoed.
“I don’t know how she ever made prefect.”
“I think someone bribed Mistress Grayling to promote her,” Kate said. “Her parents must have made the best offer.”
“Probably.” I studied the menu for a long moment. “Or maybe someone else bribed her.”
Kate grinned. “How so?”
“Capua was pretty lazy,” I reminded her. “She wasn’t a very effective prefect.”
“True.” Kate considered it for a moment. “She never caught anyone, did she?”
The waiter approached and bowed. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have the cheese and ham,” I said. The cafe wasn’t normally patronised by aristocrats - the food was strikingly plebeian - but I could eat anything. Boarding school had taught me how to force even inedible gruel down my throat. “Kate?”
The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8) Page 13
