The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I frowned inwardly as I finished my coffee, then piled my plates in the sink. We’d reopened the old kitchens and fancy dining rooms, but there was no point in using them until we had more servants. Besides, I didn’t see the point. There was nothing to gain by dressing for dinner, let alone eating expensive food, unless we had guests. Why bother donning an outfit no one would see?

  I’ll have to wear something new tomorrow, I reminded myself. The dressmaker had already been contacted. Thankfully, she already knew my measurements. But I don’t want to attract too much attention.

  I headed up to my office. Uncle Jalil followed, walking so loudly he was practically stomping. It was silly, the kind of immature behaviour I expected from toddlers and aristocrats too useless to trust and too high-ranked to be discarded. My father had once joked a particularly useless family member should be given as a gift to a family we disliked ... I smiled, then sobered. It hadn’t been much of a joke, yet it was one of the few memories I had of him. I’d thought better of Uncle Jalil. He had a working brain.

  I turned as soon as I entered the office. “What’s the matter?”

  Uncle Jalil shut the door, his eyes never leaving my face. I held his gaze evenly, feeling like a schoolgirl who knew she was in trouble even if she didn’t know why. I reminded myself, sharply, that I was no longer a schoolgirl. I was the Matriarch, Head of House Lamplighter, and I was in charge. He might be my uncle, my mother’s older brother, but I was in charge. It didn’t make me feel any better. I needed him. I didn’t have many other relatives I could trust.

  “Lucy.” Uncle Jalil stopped, as if he didn’t want to continue. He sounded like someone who’d had a particularly disturbing revelation from the ancients. “Lucy, Lucky Lucy, how exactly did you know what to buy?”

  I kept my face under tight control. “I got lucky.”

  “Too lucky.” Uncle Jalil snorted, rudely. “How did you get lucky?”

  It was all I could do to hold his gaze. I was a practiced liar, but I’d never had to lie to someone I liked and respected before. “I deduced the price would go up and ...”

  “I am an accountant,” Uncle Jalil said. “Do you think I can’t recognise the signs of insider trading? You made a call that just happened to be right, that just happened to be perfect, and you did it with precisely zero experience in investment. Or mining. How did you know the price would go up?”

  I felt my legs wobble. I held myself straight, somehow. I’d coped with disapproval before, but this ... this was worse. I didn’t much care, at base, what Mistress Grayling had to say. I didn’t care about Marlene’s opinion. I was quite happy to nod my head at the right places and carry on doing my own thing as soon as they stopped babbling. But Uncle Jalil was my uncle. I liked him and respected him and ... I’d never even considered he might catch on to what I’d done. It had never crossed my mind.

  “I saw some papers suggesting the price would go up, and that certain parties were hoarding stockpiles for themselves,” I said. It was technically true. “And I thought we could try it for ourselves.”

  “Lucy.” Uncle Jalil closed his eyes for a long moment, as if he really didn’t want to ask the next question. “Where did you see the papers?”

  “Robin Bolingbroke’s office,” I said. There was no point in trying to hide anything else. “I sneaked inside when I attended the ball.”

  Uncle Jalil swayed, his face going pale. “Are you out of your mind?”

  He walked past me and sat down, without waiting for an invitation. It was technically rude - the office was mine, in all senses of the word - but he was too far gone to care. I composed myself quickly, before he looked at me again. What was done was done. It could not be changed, not now. And I’d done it for the family. My lips twitched, humourlessly. Uncle Jalil was the only person in the hall who wouldn’t consider that a valid defence.

  “Lucy.” Uncle Jalil looked up. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten into?”

  “Yes,” I said, flatly.

  “Really,” he said. His lips flattened into a humourless line. “I very much doubt it.”

  “I know,” I insisted. “And I didn’t get caught.”

  “I saw the papers,” Uncle Jalil said. “Anyone who studies them with a cynical eye will have good reason to suspect insider trading. Either you were allied with Robin Bolingbroke or you somehow obtained the information from him. Sure, it isn’t proof of anything, but you know how quickly rumours spread.”

  “There are always rumours,” I said, tartly. “How many of them are true?”

  “The evidence,” Uncle Jalil said harshly, “suggests that you had inside information. The real insiders will know they didn’t give it to you. They’ll start to wonder where you got it. And then ...”

  “Maybe I did get lucky,” I said. I’d gone through the facts and figures very carefully, looking for proof the mines really were running dry. There’d been a handful of hints ... I grimaced as I realised someone without inside information might not have drawn the right conclusions. Prices rose and fell all the time. It was quite possible someone would believe it was just a random flux that would be corrected soon enough. “The figures ...”

  “The odds against you making the right call, in a manner that earned you a massive profit, are staggeringly low,” Uncle Jalil said. “Sure, you can make a lot of money by predicting the future successfully. People have made reputations by doing just that. But I’d expect to see more people - many more people - lose money by predicting the future unsuccessfully. You simply cannot come out ahead on your first try, unless you’re either very lucky or you’re cheating somehow.”

  He looked, for a moment, as if he were blinded with rage. “Didn’t they teach you anything at school?”

  “Yes.” I glared at him, unwilling to let him cow me. “They taught me how to play the game, how to remain stoic and not make a sound even when someone twists my ear. They taught me how to sneak around, how to collect information I could use for later advantage. They taught me I had to support my family, come what may. And they taught me that anything went, as long as I didn’t get caught.”

  “As long as you didn’t get caught,” Uncle Jalil echoed. His voice turned mocking. “What do you think will happen to you - here and now - if you get caught?”

  “And what do you think will happen,” I snapped, “if we don’t pay our debts?”

  I went on before he could even try to answer. “There’s nothing to sell. Everything we have is entailed. But the courts will seize it, if they are pushed. We’ll lose everything, even the clothes on our backs. You watched my father drive us deeper and deeper into debt. How long can we keep papering over the cracks before the centre can no longer hold?”

  “You had some good ideas,” Uncle Jalil said. “Hosting parties, making introductions ...”

  I cut him off, savagely. “We could host every ball for the next ten years,” I snapped. “We could introduce every last businessman in Water Shallot to aristocrats with lots of money and little common sense, taking half of each loan as payment. We could jack up the prices of everything we sell tenfold and ...

  “Uncle, we still couldn’t even begin to service our debts. We need money. And fast!”

  “I told you not to take up the post,” Uncle Jalil thundered. His face darkened alarmingly. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  “Because it was my duty,” I said. “I had to ...”

  “No, you didn’t.” Uncle Jalil stood and paced over to the window. “There’s no obligation to serve. Heir Primus or not, you didn’t have to succeed your father. You could have simply left. You could have built a career of your own, instead of being encumbered with debts you can’t hope to repay.”

  He turned to face me. “And what do you think will happen if you get caught?”

  “I won’t get caught,” I said.

  “Fine words,” Uncle Jalil said. He waved a hand at the window. “On a very clear day, you can see Skullbreaker Island. I’m pretty damn sure, Luc
y, that every last criminal dumped on that island and left to rot told himself he wouldn’t be caught either. You know why they’re there? They got caught!

  “You could have left. You could still leave.”

  My heart twisted. “I can’t,” I said. I didn’t want to believe that was true. “Not now.”

  “Change your name, get some false papers,” Uncle Jalil said, shortly. “It’s easier than you might think. The family will collapse, of course, but you don’t have to be here for it.”

  “And that will be the end,” I said. “What’ll happen to House Lamplighter then?”

  Uncle Jalil shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “It matters to me,” I told him. House Lamplighter had made me. I owed it. “I need to rebuild the family.”

  “For what?” Uncle Jalil laughed, humourlessly. “What does it gain you?”

  I hesitated. Cold logic suggested he was right. There was nothing to be gained by trying to rebuild the family. Our debts were so great that it was unlikely we could ever rid ourselves of them. I could leave ... and yet, the family was mine. Uncle Jalil had married into it ... no, his sister had married into it. How could he understand what it was like to grow up as Heir Primus? I’d known I would inherit the family one day. I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

  “The family,” I said, finally. The family was mine. “I can’t just walk away.”

  Uncle Jalil glared. “And do you think you can just walk away, if you get caught?”

  I turned away, unwilling to let him see my face. He was right. There might be no formal punishment if I was caught, but word would go around High Society and doors would start slamming in my face. High Society would normally expect the Matriarch or Patriarch to punish me, to cleanse the family’s reputation by disowning or exiling me, yet ... I was the Matriarch. They’d expect me to punish myself. I snorted at the thought. Maybe I could give myself a stern talking to ...

  “You are facing an uphill challenge,” Uncle Jalil said. His voice was a little gentler. “You cannot afford to destroy your reputation, not now.”

  I snorted. He was right. If I’d just wanted money, I could have engaged myself to all the possible candidates, taken the dowries and run. There were a dozen money-making schemes I could have tried, if I didn’t care about staying in the city afterwards. I’d considered them, but ... I’d have had to run or face the music. And that really would be the end.

  The people who sell fake Objects of Power always run before they can be caught out, I reminded myself. I’d met my share of peddlers at school. Nothing they sold lasted longer than a few days. I have to stay in the city.

  He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Lucy, you’re the closest thing I have to a daughter,” he said. His voice turned reflective. “I think you’re actually my only living blood relative. And I don’t want to see you destroyed, not for this. Not for anything. Quit while you’re ahead.”

  “I know what to watch for,” I said. I relied on Uncle Jalil to handle the buying and selling. I could master the art, given time, but as long as I didn’t handle it personally I could put the brakes on at any moment. There was something to be said for negotiating through intermediaries. “I will be making other trades.”

  “Lucy ...” Uncle Jalil let out a breath. I had the feeling he’d had a similar argument with my father. “Listen to me. Quit while you’re ahead. Please.”

  He strode through the door, closing it firmly behind him. I sagged into the nearest chair, feeling as if I’d just been put through the wringer. It was worse, somehow, to be lectured by someone you respected. I’d never liked or trusted any of my tutors - and I’d barely seen my father even before he’d sent me away - but Uncle Jalil was different. He had a point. I was pushing the limits as far as they would go. Sure, anything went as long as you didn’t get caught ... as long as you didn’t get caught. I knew the rule. And yet ...

  I need the money, I told myself. And I need inside information to get it.

  But it was more than that, I acknowledged privately. It wasn’t just the money. It wasn’t just the desperate need to boost the family fortunes. It was ... it was the thrill of doing something dangerous, something that could easily get me in real trouble, and getting away with it. I hadn’t had to sneak into Marlene’s room, or bolster my reputation as a fourth-year troublemaker by raiding a prefect’s room ... I’d done it for the thrill, for the joy of knowing I’d outwitted an older student, and for the admiration of my peers. And they had admired my pluck.

  They didn’t know everything I did, I reminded myself. There were secrets I’d kept firmly to myself, tricks and pranks no one had ever pinned on me. But I knew.

  Uncle Jalil had a point, I told myself again. I should quit while I was ahead. But I couldn’t. I needed the money and the thrill and ... I remembered, suddenly, the day I really had been caught. The prefect should have been a little more careful. I’d hexed her and run and ... the unwritten rules were clear. If someone got away, they got away. They couldn’t be punished later. And the way she’d glowered at me until she’d left the school the following year had merely been the icing on the cake.

  I stood and walked to the desk. The latest figures waited for me. We’d definitely made a sizable profit. I was starting to build a reputation as a canny investor. I even had a good excuse, if anyone came asking why I wasn’t investing more often. And ... I smiled as I started to sift through the information on House Braddock. They’d done very well for themselves. I knew there had to be something of value within the house. I just had to find it.

  Uncle Jalil would not approve. I knew I wasn’t going to tell him.

  There’s no choice, I told myself. We needed the money. And I needed the thrill. I couldn’t stop, not now. I wanted to keep going until ... until when? Never, perhaps. Uncle Jalil really wouldn’t approve. And yet, it was easy to convince myself it didn’t matter. He’ll do as he’s told.

  It was an unworthy thought. I admitted it, to myself if no one else. But it was true. Shaking my head, I reached for the papers. It was time to start laying my plans.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m surprised you came alone,” Brantley whispered, as he swung me around the dance floor. “Don’t you have a maiden aunt to watch over you?”

  I allowed myself a tight smile. “She had something else to do with her time,” I said, with a wink that would have given Mistress Grayling a heart attack. “I think I’ve got too many relatives. It’s time for a cull.”

  Brantley snickered at my joke. We’d been dancing for hours, slowly growing closer and closer. I was mildly surprised he hadn’t made a move already as evening turned into night and dancers spilled onto the lawn to mingle with their peers. There was an edge in the air that bothered me, whispered conversations that grew quiet whenever one of the younger generation approached. I had a feeling the elders had more important problems, right now, than paying attention to us. It would have been insulting, if it hadn’t been so useful. I didn’t want people watching us as we finally left the dance hall.

  He tugged on my arm as we swung near to the door, pulling me into the side corridor. I could have broken his grip easily, but chose to let him take me out of the hall. Charms hung in the air, making it harder to see clearly as we walked down the corridor. There had to be a lot of backroom dealing going on, between parties that would normally prefer to die than to be seen together in public. I felt a twinge of envy - the parties I’d hosted hadn’t been anything like so influential - but told myself not to be silly. There were limits to what I could learn by eavesdropping on powerful people.

  “In here,” Brantley said, pushing open a door to reveal a small room. “The wards are ...”

  “Not here,” I said, quickly. “Upstairs. Take me to your room.”

  I saw the struggle on his face. Taking me upstairs would get him in real trouble if he were caught. The Great Houses had always had double standards - I’d never understood them - and there was nothing we could do about it, but he wanted me. I cou
ld tell, from the way his hands had wandered during the dance. I did my best to look beguiling as he made up his mind and tugged me towards a statue. The stairwell behind it was neatly hidden behind a pair of cunningly-designed wards. I’d never have been able to get up the stairs without him.

  “I can’t take you to the uppermost floors,” Brantley whispered, as we reached the second floor. The corridor felt cold and empty. The house servants would have gone downstairs to help with the party. “But I can take you to my office.”

  I smiled at him, feeling a twinge of relief. Brantley had spent hours bragging about his political and financial acumen. I thought he was making a play for my hand, unaware I was already engaged ... I tried not to feel guilty as he pulled me into his office, closing and locking the door behind me. The chamber was so ornate - and in such terrible taste - I was almost disappointed. A man of true wealth and power wouldn’t feel the need to advertise it so blatantly. Everything was handmade, from the chairs and sofa to the giant desk. The desk was edged with gold. I scowled, inwardly. Brantley had wasted more money on his office than I’d spent on renovating the hall.