Time to go back to work, I told myself as I headed back to the office. I had to take the long way around. The painters were hastily slapping paint on faded wallpapers, muttering spells to ensure the paper was thoroughly hidden under the paint. There’s too much to do.
The days seemed to blur together as the ball came closer. I worked from dawn ‘til dusk, checking and rechecking everything to ensure nothing went wrong. I barely had time to get my dress fitted, even though I knew my aunties would make a fuss if I looked anything less than perfect. They were largely useless ... I wanted to disown them, simply because they refused to do anything to help prepare the hall. There was no reason Auntie Dorcas couldn’t have helped host the ball, damn it. I didn’t think she was public enemy number one, although I wasn’t sure of it. It was certainly odd for her - and the others - to refuse to help when they could have taken advantage of the work to make new contacts. I was more than a little worried about it.
And we’re spending money we might not be able to repay, I reminded myself. Ice congealed in my heart every time I thought about it. The money - my dowry - had been a sizable sum, only a few short days ago. I’d done everything I could to cut costs, but we were still spending money like a teenage aristocrat ... the irony wasn’t lost on me. What happens if we can’t pay it back?
The question mocked me. I knew the answer. I’d get married and then ...
I shook my head. It wasn’t going to happen. I was going to take what I had and parlay it into money and rebuild my family and repay the loan and ...
And I’ll have to come up with something else, I told myself, feeling a twinge of desperation. I had a year, but I already felt trapped. Merely hosting balls isn’t going to be enough.
Chapter Eleven
“Why aren't the debutantes walking down the stairs?” Auntie Dorcas whispered, as we stood by the doors and welcomed the guests to the hall. “They’re entering like commoners!”
I resisted the urge to say or do something thoroughly unpleasant. Auntie Dorcas had finally - finally - agreed to help host, but she’d spent most of the afternoon either criticising or complaining. Nothing was good enough for her, from the piles of food and drink to the dresses I’d had cleaned for the rest of the family. If there had been any other choice, any at all, I’d have banned her from the entrance and probably from the entire hall. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had days to offer her comments.
“This is an informal ball,” I muttered. It was really more of a formal informal ball, but the nasty part of my mind insisted she wouldn’t understand. “It isn’t a formal coming-out.”
I pasted a smile on my face as the Aguirre triplets stepped into the hall and curtsied to me. Alana was tall, a sharp smile on her dark face; I felt a stab of envy, knowing Alana and her sisters would never have to worry about money. House Aguirre was rich and powerful beyond words. Bella looked bored, despite the opportunities for networking; Caitlyn looked as if she would rather be somewhere - anywhere - else. The three girls still had their hair in braids, even though they were passing eighteen. I was pretty sure that burned, even though it had its uses. They’d be spared the worst consequences of their mistakes.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Alana said, in a tone that suggested I should be grateful she’d darkened my door. “And congratulations on assuming the Matriarchy.”
“I thank you,” I said. It would be a long time before Alana became Matriarch of House Aguirre. I was pretty sure, from what I’d read in the newspapers, that she was already undergoing a long apprenticeship. Her father probably already bounced ideas off her ... I kept my face under tight control, trying to hide the sudden spurt of grief. I’d have sold my soul for a proper relationship with my father. “I trust you’ll enjoy the day.”
They curtseyed again. I tried not to stare at the Object of Power dangling from Caitlyn’s neck. It was hard to tell what it did - I guessed it was a protection charm of some kind - but it was a sign she could not be taken lightly. I’d heard the rumours about her, back when I’d been a child. She’d had no magic, they’d said. I had a feeling all the people who’d mocked her - and her family - were kicking themselves. Caitlyn’s talent was all the more important for being so rare. If there were any other Zeros around, they were keeping their talents to themselves.
I watched them go into the hall, then turned to meet the next set of guests. They started to blur together as the evening wore on, from older men and women who seemed disinclined to take me seriously to younger aristocrats who almost seemed ... envious. I supposed they didn’t know how desperate we were. They probably thought I had wealth and power and the freedom to do whatever I wanted. They didn’t realise I was trying to find a way to keep the family afloat.
A low gong echoed through the hall as the servants brought out the first trays of food. The band started to play. I turned to stare, feeling oddly out of place in my own home. Ellington and the staff had done a wonderful job. I barely recognised the hall. The dust was gone, the marble and brass had been cleaned, banners hung from the walls ... I shook my head, trying to pretend - just for a moment - that it wasn’t borrowed glory. Jadish had been right. We simply didn’t have the staff to keep up appearances. And yet, appearances were all we had.
“Go circle the room,” Auntie Dorcas advised. “Press the flesh. And be seen to press the flesh.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I was the hostess. Everything rested on me. And I had to look as calm and composed as a duck drifting on the water. I smiled, remembering how my etiquette tutors had explained that ducks always looked calm on the surface, while paddling desperately underwater. My staff knew what to do, I reassured myself. I could afford to relax, just a little bit, and enjoy myself.
The dancers moved onto the floor and started to dance in time with the music. I watched, trying not to feel too envious of the other girls. They wore fancy dresses, each unique ... I hoped. I’d heard the rumours of what had happened when two aristocratic women had attended the same ball, wearing the same dress from a supposedly exclusive designer. Their frank exchange of views had turned into a full-scale brawl, with hexes and curses flying everywhere. I prayed that wouldn’t happen in Lamplighter Hall. I’d done what I could with the wards, but they were nowhere near as strong and capable as I wished.
I walked from group to group, feeling ever more out of place. I didn’t fit in with the girls my age, the ones who had their own little cliques from Jude’s. They seemed unsure what to make of me. I was their age, yet I was the host. And the older aristocrats had no place for me either. They seemed to think I was too young to be taken seriously ... or, perhaps, they knew I had little to offer. I drifted around the room, acknowledging the handful of bows and curtsies I got from the other aristocrats. And ...
“You wouldn’t believe just how much money I made in the last week,” a voice said. I turned, trying not to prick up my ears too obviously. If there was one thing I’d learnt at school, it was how to listen without making it obvious. “I found out what Tailstock wanted, and by golly I gave it to him.”
I felt a sudden flicker of interest. The speaker - Robin Bolingbroke, if I recalled correctly - was an unpleasantly corpulent man, one arm wrapped around a woman several years his junior. He was holding forth to a cluster of other men, all of whom were listening to his drunken rambles with rapt attention. I felt a flicker of distaste, mingled with interest. Robin Bolingbroke was something in finance, if I recalled correctly. He had to be rich, with his own money as well as his family allowance. The woman next to him, wearing a dress so low it was on the verge of slipping off, wouldn’t have given him the time of day if he didn’t have money.
Robin Bolingbroke went on and on, babbling about dealings I could barely follow. He’d figured out what someone wanted, I thought from what little I could understand, and found a way to give it to them ... creaming off a hefty profit in the bargain. I silently replayed what he’d said in my head, trying to sort out what he’d done. He couldn’t have done it without money ...
could he? A thought started to nag at the back of my mind as Robin turned away, guiding his mistress towards the private rooms. I felt a stab of sympathy for the poor woman. Who was she? And why was she desperate enough to ally herself with ... him?
I put the thought out of my mind as I continued to circle the room, listening to private conversations. Robin’s plan had worked, I suspected, because Robin had had the money to gamble. He could lose his personal fortune, if things went wrong, but simply fall back on his allowance. And he was hardly the Patriarch. Simon Bolingbroke had no obligations to pay Robin’s debts. The wretched man couldn’t lose.
“It’s not easy to get the parts these days,” another man said. I recognised him as a distant relation of Lord Carioca Rubén, although I couldn’t place the name. “The artificers are doubling their prices and refusing to experiment.”
“Then you should invest in more artificers, Albrecht,” his partner said. “Or maybe work to convince them to experiment.”
I frowned as I walked around them, mentally picking apart the conversation. It was hard to believe House Rubén, of all the Great Houses, was short of artificers and forgers. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have the money to invest in experimentation either. And yet ... I listened as covertly as I could, then moved on before they noticed. I had a feeling there was an in there, if I could find it. I promised myself I’d consider it later, when the ball was over. Right now, I had too much else on my mind.
The evening slowly turned to night as I kept moving, my eyes criss-crossing the ballroom. Caitlyn Aguirre talked to Akin Rubén, her betrothed; a pair of older women stood nearby, close enough to keep a sharp eye on them without actually listening. I wondered, idly, if I could arrange a private meeting between them ... it would be good to have one or both of them owing me a favour. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald were flirting outrageously with a pair of boys I didn’t recognise, both countrified by their accents; I had a feeling the flirtation was going to end in heartbreak. Saline Califon strode across the room, her face grim and cold. And, behind her, I saw Marlene. She looked, in her own way, as isolated as myself.
My eyes narrowed. That was odd. Marlene had always bragged about her friends back home ...
A hand touched my arm. I tried not to jump as I turned to see Auntie Dorcas. I mentally kicked myself for allowing myself to get lost in my own thoughts. I’d exposed my back ... I told myself, sharply, that I was no longer at school. High Society had its dangers, but being hexed in the back was not one of them. Probably. It would be the height of rudeness to throw a hex at the hostess in her own domain.
“Lucilla.” Auntie Dorcas said. “Your young man” - her lips thinned with distaste - “is waiting in the green room.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling my heart skip a beat. It was a business transaction, nothing more ... yet I couldn’t help feeling nervous. The meeting could end badly. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“I shall accompany you,” Auntie Dorcas said. “Your reputation must not be tarnished ...”
It was all I could do not to scream, even though we were in public. “I need you on the floor,” I said, pitching my voice as low as I could. “Jadish will chaperone us.”
Auntie Dorcas looked irked. I gave her a warning stare, then turned and walked through the throng. She’d probably hoped I’d put up with her peering over my shoulder, rather than make a public fuss. It would have made me look weak, whatever happened. Auntie Dorcas might pretend she cared about my reputation, but I knew better. She thought she could limit my authority. I took a breath, calming myself as best as I could. She’d had her chance. I wouldn’t hesitate to banish her if she challenged me too openly.
I passed Auntie Ainslie, who was cheerfully assuring a group of old biddies that House Lamplighter was honouring its ancestors by wearing their clothes. It was hard not to smile at her blatant lies - we would have bought new clothes for everyone, if we could have afforded them - even though I had to admit it was a pretty good story. I made a mental note to work on it. The Great Houses were big on tradition. We might start a whole new fashion by going back to a very old one.
Jadish waited outside the door, wearing an outdated maid’s uniform. It was far too frilly for my tastes, but she made it look good. She curtsied as soon as she saw me, then stepped back. I felt oddly nervous, unsure of myself. I’d spoken to boys before - I’d even had a couple of local boyfriends, when I’d been at school - but this was different. It was a business transaction and yet it wasn’t ... I winced, inwardly. It didn’t matter. I was committed. I’d been committed from the moment I signed the contract and taken the money.
I pushed open the door, telling myself - again and again - that I could cope, that I could handle whatever happened ... that, as a mature woman, I could deal with anything. And yet, I didn’t feel mature. I wished, suddenly, that my mother was still alive, or that I had a female relative I could trust. I’d hate to take advice from Auntie Dorcas. She’d always keep one eye on how she could make a situation work for her.
“Lady Lamplighter.” The boy inside the room stood and bowed. “I’m Gary Prestwick.”
I studied him, all too aware he was studying me too. He didn’t look any older than me ... indeed, his curly hair and babyish face made him look slightly younger. His skin was strikingly pale, his rounded head topped with blond hair that reminded me - however faintly - of Akin Rubén. I wondered if there might be a family connection, then snorted at myself for the thought. Blond hair proved nothing. Uncle Jalil’s background check hadn’t turned up any links to the aristocracy.
My eyes roamed over his body, reading the clues. His black suit was simple, yet perfectly tailored. He looked slim, although he lacked the sporty appearance that was so fashionable amongst the aristocracy. His hands were faintly scarred, suggesting a background in forgery as well as charms. There were strong ties between the two disciplines, if I recalled correctly; a charmsmith could easily become a forger, without needing to start again.
Jadish closed the door behind us, a little louder than necessary. I was almost grateful for the reminder she was there. Auntie Dorcas would have been obnoxious, at the least ... and she was the best of my female relatives. I wondered, not for the first time, why my father hadn’t offered my hand in marriage well before I’d left school. Sure, I could have said no ... but why hadn’t he even tried to talk me into it?
“Gary,” I said. My throat was suddenly dry. I was all too aware of the wards pressing down on us. The family might be spying on us ... I didn’t think Auntie Dorcas could hack the wards, but it was possible. She’d lived in the hall long enough to fiddle with the spellforms before she moved out. “I’m Lucy.”
Gary sat down, looking just as awkward as I felt. “It’s good to meet you,” he mumbled, glancing nervously at Jadish. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh dear.” I managed a smile at the weak joke. “Don’t believe everything you read in all the major newspapers.”
“I never read them,” Gary said. He grinned. I was surprised by how much it lit up his face. “They told me you were good at charms.”
I wondered, idly, who’d told him that - and why. I’d done well in charms - and I’d learnt how to hack them, thanks to school - but I wasn’t an expert. Perhaps Uncle Jalil had been trying to convince Gary I’d make a good match. That was odd, but my uncle was perhaps the only one who’d understand Gary’s point of view. He was minor aristocracy, only a step or two up from a commoner. Auntie Dorcas would be completely unsympathetic to him. She’d assume he’d be grateful to marry into the family.
“I like to study them,” I said. It was true, sort of. “Perhaps we can talk about them in a less ... formal ... setting.”
“I think I’m supposed to clear my throat here,” Jadish said. She made a sound that was more like a lion preparing to roar. “Right?”
I had to smile as Gary flushed. “Maybe not,” I said. “Tell me about yourself.”
It had been, I decided as our meeting finally came to an end,
a pleasant hour. Gary didn’t disgrace himself. I hoped I hadn’t disgraced myself either. It would be embarrassing if Gary’s father demanded the money back ahead of time, or forced his son to stay with me even though he disliked me ... I’d seen unhappy marriages amongst the aristocracy. I’d heard the stories and rumours too. They never ended.
“I’ll see you again,” I promised. Jadish would show him out, ensuring the guests didn’t have a chance to see him and gossip. “Somewhere better, I think.”
Gary smiled as he stood and bowed. “Be seeing you.”
I nodded, then walked back to the ballroom. It had grown later than I’d realised. The guests were starting to drift outside, summoning their carriages and heading home. A gust of wind blew across the lawn, bringing with it the promise of a better future. I saw Robin Bolingbroke clambering into his carriage, accompanied by his mistress. He was too drunk to get inside until she helped him with a quick spell. I hoped he forgot how talkative he’d been. He’d given me an idea ...
The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8) Page 11