“He’s prepared to advance us the money,” Uncle Jalil said. He reached into his pocket and produced a slip of charmed parchment. “He wants a very solid agreement in exchange, Lucy, and he wants you to get to know his son too.”
I took the parchment and read it carefully, line by line. Mistress Grayling had told us, more than once, that we had to pay close attention to anything we signed. It was quite easy to accidently sign away everything, if we weren’t careful. Danny Prestwick’s lawyer was surprisingly blunt. If we failed to repay the advance one year after the contract was signed, I would have to go through with the marriage or lose everything.
“It might not hold up in court,” Uncle Jalil said. “But we can’t afford decent lawyers.”
“We do have Uncle Stefano,” I reminded him.
“Stefano hasn’t argued in front of a court for years,” Uncle Jalil snapped. “I wouldn’t trust him to argue that water is wet or that two plus two equals four. And even if I did ... there’s very little room for creative misunderstandings. Lucy ...he thinks he has us over a barrel. That’s why the negotiations were so short. If we don’t repay him, you will have to go through with it.”
“So you keep saying.” I reread the parchment carefully. “Do we have a choice?”
Uncle Jalil said nothing.
“No,” I said. “What happens if he refuses to go through with it?”
“I imagine his father will deal with him,” Uncle Jalil said. “That will be ... unpleasant.”
I stared down at the contract. If something went wrong ... I was going to marry someone I didn’t know, someone I hadn’t even met. And too many things could go wrong. I wished, suddenly, that I’d turned my back and walked away. But I couldn’t. It would have meant abandoning the family.
“I’ll meet him at the ball,” I said, as I signed. “And, as soon as I get the money, we’ll start work.”
Chapter Ten
“You’ll be pleased to know that House Rubén and House Aguirre have accepted your offer to hold the ball,” Uncle Jalil said, five days later. “They’ve even agreed to pay for your services.”
I nodded, feeling stiff and sore. Ellington had gone to the Hiring Hall and hired a hundred maids, cleaners and part-time sorcerers to prepare for the ball, but it was still a staggeringly huge task. I’d watched maids working in droves to dust the floors, polish the brass and everything else we needed to do, then walked down to the kitchens to check on the hired staff as they cleaned the stoves, replaced the preservation spells on the cellars and stockpiled enough food and drink to accommodate an army. I had the nasty feeling an army might be preferable. We’d told everyone who’d listen that the hall was neutral ground, that we had no interest in the feuds and infighting that dominated High Society, but the only thing keeping the Great Houses from trying to drag us into the fray was the simple fact we had nothing to offer. That might change, if my plans worked.
Unless they’re happy to let us stay in the middle, I thought, as I brushed sweat from my brow. I’d hoped and prayed to my ancestors, but there’d been no guarantee House Rubén and House Aguirre would accept my proposal. It was all too easy, as I tossed and turned in my uncomfortable bed, to fear the worst. We want them to think of us as harmless middlemen.
I scowled as we walked through the hall, keeping a respectful distance from the hired men. Jadish stood in a crowd of maids, directing them to clean the bedrooms, change the bedding and scrub the bathrooms before the first guests arrived. I doubted we’d have many, at least the first time, but we couldn’t keep the hired servants forever. They’d go back to the Hiring Hall when the money ran out. I nodded to her, then led Uncle Jalil up the stairs to the uppermost floor. It had been carefully sealed off before the hired hands had been allowed to enter the hall. Anyone caught there would be sacked without reference.
“They’re working wonders,” Uncle Jalil said. “I didn’t think they could get the dust out of those carpets.”
“Me neither,” I said. The drapes had once been colourful, if my memories didn’t lie. They’d been so laden with dust they’d been on the verge of collapse before they’d been cleaned. “Did they have a chance to clean your room?”
“I can handle that myself,” Uncle Jalil said. “Right now, you have to worry about the hall.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, as we entered the office. “What about the other Great Houses?”
“I’ve had sniffs of interest from several others,” Uncle Jalil said. “I think they’re waiting to see how the first ball goes before they commit themselves. They’ll definitely see advantage in holding some of the other mixed balls here, particularly given the rumoured troubles between Bolingbroke and McDonald, but it all depends on how we do.”
“Then we’d better do very well,” I said. “I put Ellington in charge. He’s doing a good job.”
“Your aunts won’t like it,” Uncle Jalil said. “Have you told them you’re engaged?”
I winced. Auntie Dorcas had thrown a fit when I’d told her. The others had either screamed or fainted. Apparently, I was marrying beneath myself. No one short of an Heir Primus would suffice for me. They didn’t seem to know, or care, that no Heir Primus would marry me and, if one did, the family’s independence would vanish like morning dew. I’d heard more nonsense in half an hour from my relatives than I’d heard over the last six years at school, where one couldn’t reasonably expect the snooty girls to know better. To hear them talk, you’d think I was defiled forever. I might as well be marrying the lad who ate the dung.
“Yes,” I said. Uncle Jalil hadn’t been there, for which I was grateful. He already had enough enemies on the council. “They weren’t pleased.”
“As I expected,” Uncle Jalil said. “The next year will be very interesting.”
“Hah.” I made a rude sound as I sat behind the desk. “Either we earn enough money to repay the loan and break the agreement, or I get married.”
“And they try to strip you of your post,” Uncle Jalil said.
“We’ll see,” I said. If my plans failed, I probably would lose my post. I wondered how that would affect the marriage contract. It was quite possible they’d sue us for breaking the agreement .... I shrugged. It wouldn’t be my fault. “Uncle, I need to ask you something. Again. Who’s Zadornov?”
Uncle Jalil let out a heavy sigh. “I’d hoped the matter would remain forgotten.”
“I don’t think this is something that’ll go away,” I said, as I opened the drawer and removed the secret accounts. “Uncle ... who is Zadornov?”
“Officially, he’s a businessman with a somewhat shady reputation,” Uncle Jalil said, with another sigh. “Unofficially, he’s a loan shark, a smuggler and quite possibly a few other things as well. Rumour insists he’s been connected with everything from arson and theft to kidnapping, rape and assassination. There’s never been any evidence of anything beyond making dubious loans.”
“Like the one he made to my father?” I passed him the account books. “What was he thinking?”
“Your father? I imagine he was desperate.” Uncle Jalil skimmed the books with practiced ease. “And Zadornov? I dare say he thought he could get something out of the deal.”
I let out a breath. “What do we do about it?”
“Legally speaking, the debt died with your father,” Uncle Jalil said. “There are no grounds for him to demand the money back from you, or the family as a whole.”
“And practically speaking?” I ran my hand through my hair. “If he demands the money back, what then?”
“I don’t know,” Uncle Jalil said. “We got a nice lump sum, but ...”
I met his eyes. “It’s not enough to cover the debt, is it?”
“No.” Uncle Jalil shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see if he comes calling,” I said. “And then decide what to do about it.”
“I think he’ll wait until you become successful,” Uncle Jalil said. “There’s nothing to be gain
ed by trying to force you to give him money you don’t have.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I cleared my throat, changing the subject. “Will Gary be at the ball?”
“Yes.” Uncle Jalil paused, meaningfully. “We are obliged to provide a chaperone.”
I made a face. Traditionally, the chaperone should be an older woman, but there weren’t many candidates. Auntie Dorcas would be unbearable, no matter who I married. The others were even worse. I could ask a girlfriend, but most of my old friends were either still at school or disqualified. Kate would be terribly out of place. Marlene ... I shook my head. I needed it examined for thinking of her, even for a second. She’d embarrass me in front of the Great Houses.
“Jadish can chaperone us, when we’re not in public,” I said. It wasn’t perfect, but I could rely on Jadish to cover for me. “It should please everyone.”
“It’ll please no one,” Uncle Jalil predicted. “They’ll insist you ordered Jadish to lie.”
“We’ll just have to live with it,” I said. “There aren’t any other candidates.”
“If you say so.” Uncle Jalil returned the account books. “I’d say your father was insane, but ... I know he was desperate. And the way all his endeavours kept failing ... I’d almost say he was cursed.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” I said. “Is it?”
“He had a habit of taking risks,” Uncle Jalil said. “And eventually they caught up with him.”
There was a knock on the door. I looked up. “Come!”
Jadish stepped into the room and dropped a curtsy. “My Lady, the dressmaker is here.”
I groaned inwardly as I stood. “Show her to the fitting room,” I said. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Jadish said.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I told Uncle Jalil as Jadish withdrew. “And we can decide what to do about the secret debts after the ball.”
I felt cold as I walked down to the fitting room, feeling - again - a grim awareness of just how poor we truly were. I’d hired one of the most exclusive dressmakers in the city, but she normally catered to the upper middle classes. The Great Houses had dressmakers of their own, dressmakers and tailors who’d grown up in the families .... I gritted my teeth in frustration. It would be decades, at least, before House Lamplighter reached the heights again. I doubted my children would want to train as dressmakers.
“You must be Lucilla,” the dressmaker said, as I stepped into the fitting room. She was a short woman with a bright smile and white hair. I had the feeling she was plump, but her long dress made it hard to be sure. “I’m Garland. Just Garland.”
“Just Lucy,” I said. Lucilla might be my formal name, but I’d always preferred Lucy. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s quite alright, my dear.” Garland patted me on the shoulder, then pulled me into the centre of the room. “You want a formal dress, right? Just one?”
“For the moment,” I said. Dresses were expensive. Marlene and her peers might be able to buy dresses by the cartload, but I’d bankrupt myself if I tried. “And I need it fast.”
“So I hear.” Garland pulled a spellcaster out of her pocket and waved it around me. “Your measurements are pretty simple. I can tailor another dress to fit you, if you like. It’ll be cheaper and quicker than making something new.”
“That would be good,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Depends on you, my dear,” Garland said. “You’re the host, if I understand correctly, but not the centre of attention. You want to look masterful, to make it clear you’re in charge, yet you don’t want to dominate the room. That’s quite a challenge.”
“Men have it easy,” I said, as she wrapped a measuring tape around my thighs. “They don’t have to wear fancy dresses.”
Garland winked at me. “It takes more effort to hide their bellies, my dear.”
I had to smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You should.” Garland winked, again. “You don’t want to compete, so I suggest you keep it simple. A long evening gown, perhaps. Your family crest will go on the breast, but nothing else. Keep your neckline clean, without even a necklace. I’d suggest tightening the garment around the breasts, but not actually revealing any bare flesh. You don’t want them thinking of you as a young woman, or indeed a woman at all.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I pointed out. “I’ve got breasts.”
“And you can dress to draw attention away from them, my dear,” Garland explained, as she kept poking at me. “Dress is half the battle.”
She leaned back and looked me up and down. “White, green or blue would go well with your skin, but they’re striking. I’d suggest a dull red. I should be able to alter a couple of dresses to fit you, if you like those colours. Or you could wear black, in memory of your father. I think you could carry it off nicely.”
I held up a hand. “I’ll stick with red,” I said. “What else do you advise?”
“Red should suffice,” Garland said. “I’ll have to make you something else, if you go to another ball. You won’t be running the show there.”
“No,” I agreed. “Green, for the second dress. I don’t want to look too striking.”
Garland nodded as she finished taking measurements. “I’ll be back tomorrow with the refitted dresses,” she said. “I normally charm them against everything from rain to ill-use, and I can weave a handful of cooling charms into the garment if you wish, but I’m not sure how well the refitted dresses will take the charms. You may have to renew them. I can also add a deflation charm, but ...”
I shook my head. “I think I can manage without,” I said. “How quickly can you finish the work?”
“It shouldn’t be more than a day or so,” Garland assured me. “I’ll do much of the work when I get back to the shop, then I can either finish the job here tomorrow or bring them back to you the following day. You’ll have them in time for the ball.”
And hope they don’t look second-hand, I thought. The Grande Dames would be watching me like ... Grande Dames. Even hawks weren’t as perceptive as Grande Dames looking for something to complain about. That might get embarrassing.
I sighed inwardly as I rang the bell for Jadish. Garland was right, in at least one sense. It wasn’t really my ball, even though I was the hostess. I wasn’t going to be the centre of attention ... and yet, by hosting the ball, I was going to attract attention. It was going to be an interesting balancing act. Hopefully, the old ladies would think I’d have a Season next year ... or that I’d been denied the chance to have one through no fault of my own. Father could have given me a Season. Holding one for myself would have seemed a little ... egotistical.
And pointless, given that I’m not going to marry a fellow aristocrat, I told myself, as Jadish escorted the older woman off the premises. Why would anyone come to my Season if they know I’m not going to marry them?
Jadish returned, looking grim. “My Lady,” she said. “Lord Jalil said you wished to see me.”
“I need a chaperone,” I said. “Will you do the honours?”
“I ...” Jadish caught herself. “My Lady?”
It was hard to put my thoughts into words. “The man I might marry is coming to the ball,” I said. “I need to speak to him. Alone. But not alone. I need you to be with us, your ears jammed firmly shut.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Jadish said. “Do you want me to look away too?”
“Perhaps.” I felt myself blush. Thankfully, my colouring hid it. “It depends.”
“Yes, My Lady.” Jadish dropped a curtsy. “I’ll do as you wish.”
I smiled, then sobered. “How are things? I mean ... how are things really?”
Jadish hesitated. “We’re going to need more staff ... more permanent staff,” she said, carefully. “We just can’t keep the hall going without more people. There’s no way we can keep the place clean, let alone do anything else ...”
“I understand,” I said. “And
I’ll work on it. My father ...”
I looked at her. “How was my father?”
“I really couldn’t say, My Lady.” Jadish looked down. “It isn’t my place ...”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “I won’t be angry, whatever you say.”
Jadish didn’t look convinced. “He was never able to focus,” she said, finally. “And he was never concerned with running the house.”
“Thanks,” I said, rather sourly. I’d guessed that much for myself. “I’ll try and do better.”
I dismissed her with a nod, wondering if she wanted the post of housemistress. Jadish was young, but there wasn’t anyone more familiar with the house. We’d explored every last inch of the building, save for the uppermost floor, as children. Ellington would probably be pleased if his granddaughter was promoted. The old man was getting on in years, no matter how he tried to hide it. Perhaps that was why he’d allowed the hall to decay. He’d simply been too tired to do his job.
The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8) Page 10