The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “No.” I shook my head. There was no one who could help me, no one I could appeal to ... I didn’t even know much of anything about Malachi and his allies. His card - I’d put it on the table - read MALACHI RUBÉN. Was he really a Rubén? It was odd for someone who bore a family name not to be linked to the family, although ... I supposed it could happen. A natural-born son? Or someone who’d adopted the name? “I don’t know what to do?”

  Uncle Jalil picked up the memory orb and stared into it. “Interesting,” he said. I realised he must have seen the same memory. “I don’t think this can be faked.”

  I felt my heart sink still further, as impossible as that seemed. Malachi had said as much, but ... I’d hoped, deep inside, that he’d been lying. The memory might have been nothing more than an illusion, put together with magic in a manner that would allow the viewer’s imagination to fill in the gaps ... no, that wasn’t workable. The viewers wouldn’t see the same vision unless it was a recording of someone’s memory.

  “And even if you managed to convince people it was faked, you’d still have to account for what you’d learned,” Uncle Jalil said. “You might manage to explain away one very good guess. Maybe. But you’ve made too many good guesses for it to be believable.”

  He turned the orb over and over in his hand. “You have three choices, as I see it,” he said. “You can refuse to play his games and dare him to do his worst. He might be reluctant to tell the world about these” - he peered at the orb - “things, but he won’t have to show off his trick to convince people. They’ll take a look at your record and suspect the truth. Or you can simply run.”

  I shook my head. I’d already decided that wasn’t an option.

  “And the third option?” I knew what it was, but ... I hoped I was wrong. “What else can I do?”

  “Surrender.” Uncle Jalil held out the orb. “He’s got you. You - and the entire family - are looking at total ruination if the truth gets out. You might betray him in turn, but how will you prove it? He’ll say you have no proof and he’ll be right.”

  “And he might have something on everyone else as well,” I said. “What if he has something on ... on everyone?”

  “Then, as long as he doesn’t get too greedy, he’s got the entire world on its knees,” Uncle Jalil said, curtly. “Lucy, the choice is yours. Fight, run, or surrender?”

  I stared down at my hands. Malachi hadn’t demanded money. He hadn’t demanded anything, beyond a show of submission. That was going to change. He’d said as much. He wanted me for something and ... and I had a feeling, when he told me, that I wasn’t going to like it. Why me? He had to know I couldn’t give him much of anything ... I shook my head. It didn’t matter. He could keep demanding more and more from me until I was a broken girl or I tried to fight back. I thought I had the measure of him. He wasn’t interested in a single transaction. He wanted to make me dance and keep dancing ...

  He won’t stop, I thought. Even if I give him what he wants, he won’t stop.

  My mind raced. If I dared him to do his worst, the family would be destroyed. If I tried to run, I’d be hunted down like a dog. If I surrendered ... he’d never let me go. I needed a fourth option, but what? I needed a way to turn the tables - and quickly.

  “We play along, for the moment,” I said. “I need to know more about him. I need to find a way of stopping him.”

  “Dangerous,” Uncle Jalil pointed out. “Are you gambling again?”

  I winced. That hurt. Uncle Jalil was right. It was a gamble. But I’d taken Malachi’s measure. He’d never let me go. He’d force me to compromise myself time and time again until I was broken beyond all hope of repair. Or redemption. I wanted - I needed - to destroy the evidence, then stop him. I’d have to play along until I isolated him and struck.

  “There are ways to deal with a blackmailer,” Uncle Jalil said. He sounded like a man clutching at straws. “If we put together a proper deal ...”

  “No.” I shook my head. I could understand the logic - sure, we could offer a hefty one-time payment - but Malachi couldn’t be trusted to keep his side of the agreement. And besides, what did we have to offer him? It made me sick just to consider the possibilities. “We need to find a way to stop him.”

  I stared at my hands, thinking hard. Malachi would have other victims, I was sure. I could find them ... I shook my head. It was too risky. I was alone. I wasn’t even sure I could trust my closest - and oldest - friends.

  “I want you to dig up as much as you can,” I told him. Uncle Jalil was a better researcher than I’d ever be. And he had contacts - fellow accountants - who might talk to him. “I want to know everything about him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Uncle Jalil let out a heavy sigh. “I wish you’d listened to me.

  “Me too,” I said, quietly. “I wish I’d listened too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next four days were amongst the worst in my life.

  I’d felt vulnerable before - you didn’t go to boarding school without feeling vulnerable, particularly in your first few months - but this was worse. Far worse. I potted around the hall, unable to muster the determination to go out and do something as I waited for the message. I wanted to go riding or shopping or ... or something, anything, but I didn’t quite dare. I didn’t even want to open the ever-growing pile of invitations, let alone attend the parties, soirées and everything else being organised by my peers. The doors were opening, yet I didn’t want to walk through. My dreams were haunted by people staring at me with knowing eyes, my guilt on their lips ... I woke up sweaty, my heart beating like a drum. I prayed to my ancestors, but they didn’t answer. They probably thought I was a failure.

  I studied the orb time and time again, trying to tell myself it could be faked. And yet, the more I looked at it, the more I came to believe there was simply no way to convince anyone it was anything but real. It was. I cursed myself as I paced the hall, barely able to make a list of patches in the walls that needed fixed or repainted or something. I’d compromised myself so badly that there was no hope of redemption. I tried to cling to the thought of finding a way to outwit Malachi, or maybe making myself so useful he’d treat me as an ally rather than a tool, but ... it was hard to believe, as the days wore on, that either was possible. He’d use me, then throw me to the wolves.

  My heart twisted as I walked down the stairs and onto the ballroom floor. The room was supposed to be cleaned, in preparation for Ayesha and Zeya McDonald’s party ... I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they’d turn on me in an instant if they knew what I’d done. They’d cross the road if they saw me coming, just to make sure that no one - absolutely no one - would believe they’d so much as give me the time of day. I’d be cut dead in the streets, shunned and abhorred by High Society. I cursed myself, again and again. I’d been sent to Coventry at school, but this would be worse. Far worse.

  I stopped in front of a painting of some long-gone Lamplighter and stared up at her. She looked dignified, wearing expensive clothes that marked her wealth far more profoundly than the diamond necklace hanging around her neck. I wondered what she’d have thought of me, if she’d known what I’d done. The family tree was full of gamblers, of people who’d taken horrific risks to build the family fortune ... people who’d won. The difference between a brilliant idea and something so stupid that no one would think it was a good idea was less than one might think. If it worked, it was brilliant; if it failed, it was stupid.

  And you’d probably have been smart enough to set up a fallback position, I thought, studying the painting. There was no shortage of stories about paintings coming to life, about the ancients speaking though their images, but they were just stories. I’d never met a ghost who’d had anything useful to say. You wouldn’t have let yourself become so desperately exposed.

  I turned as I heard the sound of footsteps. Jadish was descending the marble stairs, a hint of aristocracy around her gait. I nearly laughed, catching myself just in time. She’d probably
fantasised about having a Season, just like Kate and every other common-born girl I’d known. Walking down the stairs, into the empty ballroom, was the closest she’d ever come. I felt a stab of sympathy, mingled with envy. Jadish and Kate would never be put on display, like prize dogs and horses. They’d never be strongly urged to marry the highest bidder. And no one would care about their good names ...

  “My Lady.” Jadish looked a little embarrassed. “I ... Gary is here to see you.”

  I blinked, then cursed myself as I remembered. Gary had come once a week for the last month and ... and I’d forgotten. With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten. I flushed as I looked down at myself. I’d barely remembered to shower and dress. My clothes were appropriate for indoor work, but not for meeting one’s paramour. I cursed myself again as I realised Gary and his family would want to demand their money back, if they knew what had happened. Malachi could ruin me - without making waves - simply by tipping them off.

  “Please show him to the kitchenette,” I said. I ran my hand through my hair. I looked terrible, but ... I couldn’t simply tell him to go away. We’d planned the meeting. It couldn’t be cancelled unless there was a real emergency. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Jadish nodded and hurried away. I watched her scamper up the stairs, wondering if I could rent out the hall to wealthy commoners who wanted to introduce their daughters to High Society. The Grande Dames had been moaning about commoners putting on airs and graces - even holding Seasons - of their own ... I smiled at the thought. There would be complaints, of course, but who cared? It wasn’t as if we had many other options. I’d lost my taste for insider trading.

  And we have to find a way to get out of the trap before we do anything else, I thought, as I followed Jadish at a more sedate pace. There’s no hope of doing anything until we’re free.

  I felt a twinge of guilt as I stepped into the kitchenette. Gary was seated at the far end of the chamber, holding a mug of tea. He stood as I entered, bowing politely. I nodded in return, then motioned for him to sit. The chamber might be almost laughably small, compared to the family dining room, but it was comfortable. I would have felt relaxed, if I hadn’t been all too aware Malachi had me over a barrel. Every time I forgot, the awareness snapped back into my mind with jarring force. It was simply impossible to relax for more than a few seconds.

  “Lucy.” Gary’s smile was warm and welcoming. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you.” I tried not to feel guilty as I sat down, guilty and ashamed. “It’s been a long week.”

  “You look as if you haven’t slept at all,” Gary said. I saw nothing but honest concern in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m having problems coming to terms with my father’s death,” I said. “I just realised, a few days ago, that he’s really gone.”

  I tried not to feel too guilty. It wasn’t entirely a lie. If my father had been alive, I wouldn’t have set out to rebuild the family fortunes and compromised myself beyond redemption. And he could have disciplined me if I’d been caught, ensuring the consequences - such as they were - would have fallen on me and me alone. I would have felt better about facing the music if I’d been the only one in trouble.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Gary said. He reached out and touched my hand, lightly. “It never gets easier.”

  “I wish he’d lived longer,” I said. “I didn’t so much as lay eyes on him for six years, not until I saw his body.”

  I looked down at the floor. My father had died suddenly ... too suddenly. I’d wondered, given the scale of his debts, if he’d committed suicide. The healers hadn’t found any proof he’d killed himself - they’d blamed his death on a heart attack brought on by ill health - but that proved nothing. It would be fairly easy to brew a potion that would mimic a heart attack, then vanish into the bloodstream before the healers started the autopsy. And my father had had a small collection of books on dubious or outright dark magic. I hadn’t been able to tell if he’d so much as read the books, but they could have been sold if he hadn’t wanted to keep them.

  Gary looked surprised. “You never saw him at all?”

  “No.” I had no idea how to explain it. “Girls at my school ... we were discouraged from seeing our parents during term-time. It was rare for relatives to visit and, when they did, they were under strict rules. They were practically chaperoned.”

  “Chaperoned?” Gary made a show of looking around. Our chaperone had absented herself as soon as she’d shown him into the chamber. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “It depends on who you believe,” I said. “There were girls who thought the school simply wanted to discourage visitors. The headmistress didn’t want to run the risk of the girls telling tales out of school. And there were girls who snickered that someone must have introduced her betrothed as her cousin as a ruse to sneak him into the school. But really ... I don’t know.”

  “Ouch,” Gary said. “It wasn’t quite that bad at Jude’s.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “What happened?”

  “Oh, we were allowed out as long as we managed to evade the groundskeeper,” Gary said, wryly. “The walls were pretty high and topped with iron spikes and pieces of glass and all sorts of interesting spells. I think they thought that unravelling the spells and escaping would provide a challenge for the upperclassmen. Or something.”

  I shook my head, feeling a twinge of envy. If I’d gone to Jude’s ... I told myself, again, that there was no point in crying over spilt milk. There was certainly no way I could change the past. If I had a way to do that ... I’d have gone back just far enough to tell my younger self not to risk breaking into Lord McDonald’s office. And yet ... I had a nasty feeling my younger self wouldn’t have listened. I’d been too caught up in the thrill to care.

  Gary finished his tea and put the mug to one side. “Lucy, do you want to go out?”

  I blinked, surprised. “Go out? Go where?”

  “You need a change,” Gary said. “We could go ... we could go anywhere. I can even take you shopping.”

  “You must like me,” I said, lightly. He coloured, but he stood his ground. “I’ve never really been into shopping.”

  Gary pretended to be shocked. “Really?”

  “Really.” I smiled, but with little real humour. As a child, I’d never been allowed to shop; as a teenager, the only shops within walking distance had been dull and tedious. Now ... I supposed I could visit some of the truly expensive shops, but I didn’t have the money to buy anything. And I couldn’t see Gary’s father agreeing to let him pay a few hundred crowns for a dress. “It’s just ... boring.”

  “We could go somewhere else,” Gary said. “There’s a zoo. Or a park. Or ... we could even visit the library.”

  “Nerd,” I said, with a hint of affection. “I might have been interested, but we can’t be seen together.”

  “Use a glamour,” Gary said. “Pretend to be someone you’re not.”

  I hesitated. Gary was right. I wanted to go out. I could feel the walls closing in already. And yet, I didn’t quite dare. Malachi had me dangling on the end of a string. If he returned, or sent me a message, I needed to see it at once. I didn’t dare go too far from the hall. It might mean the end of everything.

  “We can walk in the gardens,” I said, finally. I didn’t want to turn him down completely. “And you can tell me about your apprenticeship.”

  “I thought you’d be bored of hearing about it by now,” Gary said. He looked away - absurdly - as I stood and threw a cloak over my dress. “I’m trying to get certified before we get married.”

  My heart twisted, again. I liked him ... I liked him too much. And I knew he’d turn against me in a heartbeat if he knew what I’d done. His father wouldn’t give him a choice. I wouldn’t blame him. I might doom his family as well as my own ... if the truth came out. I ground my teeth, feeling a flash of pure rage. I deserved punishment - I conceded as much - but everyone else was innocent. Gary and his famil
y didn’t deserve to go down with me.

  Gary looked doubtful as we headed down the stairs to the servant’s entrance and out into the lawn. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I glanced at him. “About what?”

  “About what’s bothering you,” Gary said. “Is it something to do with me?”

  “No.” I shook my head firmly, trying not to show my irritation. He had every right to wonder, but ... I didn’t think he had the right to ask questions. “I’m just a little out of sorts right now.”

  Gary said nothing as we strolled onto the lawn and around the hall. The potion gardens looked neater, now they’d been harvested of everything of worth. I’d convinced a pair of potioneers to tend the gardens, in exchange for half the produce. I wasn’t sure who’d gotten the better half of that bargain, but it was better than leaving the plants to die. My father had made a serious mistake when he’d dismissed the gardeners. Some of the plants - given time - would give us a nice little income.