My thoughts laughed at me. Marlene could run. Her parents could claim they knew nothing about her activities. It would even be true. Or ... if their masters kicked them out ... my heart twisted again. They’d wind up begging on the streets, pleading for mercy and charity that might never come. I hadn’t understood how bad that could be, before Gary had taken me into Water Shallot. I knew now. I couldn’t do that to them. I didn’t even know them.
“You want to make her your slave, don’t you?” Malachi’s voice was light, but I could hear something dark and hungry in his tone. “You want to use her.”
“Yes,” I lied. It would have been true, once. “But there are limits to what she can do for us.”
Malachi shrugged. “It is of no matter,” he said. “Tighten the screws. Demand some money, then move on to secrets. She must know something her masters would prefer to remain secret.”
I shrugged. “Really?”
“Oh, yes.” Malachi rose, his beady eyes beaming. “You’d be surprised just how much happens within the Great Houses that never makes it into the papers.”
“I believe you,” I said. I did. Hell, it was easy to believe Marlene knew a dozen secrets her master and mistress would pay good money to conceal. I’d listened to the stories we’d swapped after Lights Out; I’d heard the rumours and whispered warnings about men - and women - who couldn’t be trusted. “What if she runs?”
Malachi shrugged. “It is of no matter,” he said. “There are always more where she came from.”
He paced around the desk. I held myself still, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the chair he’d vacated. “Why, only two months ago a pretty little serving girl was groped by her master and left in the family way. She came to me shortly afterwards, bearing a set of letters her master had written to his mistress ... letters that, if they were exposed to the world, would destroy an entire Great House. They pay me now, just to ensure those letters go no further.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry. “And what happened to the girl?”
“Oh, I paid her well,” Malachi said. “I believe she left the city shortly afterwards.”
He stepped up behind me. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. It took everything I had not to recoil, not to show any sign of discomfort ... I doubted he was fooled. Malachi was observant. He couldn’t have worked his way into High Society, let alone become an accomplished blackmailer, if he wasn’t. His touch - he rested his hand on my shoulder, just for a second - was creepy. I knew what he was doing - he wanted to make it clear that I was his, that he could do whatever he liked - but it didn’t help. He enjoyed the thought of me sweating, for fear of what he might do, far more than actually doing it.
We fear the worst until it happens, I thought, as his hand trailed down my back. And yet, when it does, we are no longer afraid.
Malachi stepped back. I didn’t dare turn to face him. “Your other friend will bring you something in due course,” he said. “You can forward it to me when it arrives. Or use it yourself, if you can.”
“Yes, My Lord,” I said. “I don’t know what she’ll find. She might even go to her father.”
“She’d be utterly ruined, if she did.” Malachi stepped back into view. He was smirking. “Do you think a girl like that, on the cusp of reaching the very highest position society has to bestow, would throw it away?”
I said nothing. I wasn’t sure what I’d do, if I was in Ayesha McDonald’s position. Lord McDonald wasn’t a monster and he wasn’t abusive, but he’d find himself trapped when he found out. He couldn’t allow Ayesha to remain as Heir Primus, even though she was sharing the role with her sister. Zeya would win by default. And Ayesha herself ... she was too old to be sent to Grayling’s. I wondered if she’d be given a lot of money and told never to return. It was the traditional fate for those who’d compromised themselves beyond repair.
“I don’t know,” I said, finally. If my father had been alive ... would he have been understanding, if I’d confessed my sins to him, or would he have told me to get out of the city and run? “She may put the interests of her family ahead of herself.”
Malachi snorted. “Do you really believe that? Really? The aristocracy tells everyone who will listen, and everyone has to listen, that they’re the noblest people in all creation, the shining stars of the universe, the very souls of charity, the guiding lights of a whole new era ... you know what it is? Bullshit, all bullshit. They tell those lies to conceal the truth, that they’re in it for themselves and to hell with everyone else. They could give up half their wealth to fix the problems in this city” - he waved a hand at the wall - “but they won’t. You know why? Because it would mean giving up half their wealth!”
He snorted, again. “They live a lie. They have always put their own interests first. And your little ... slattern of an aristocratic brat will betray her family, rather than admit her failing and take whatever punishment her father decrees. And he will exile her rather than admit his failings as a father, in a bid to preserve his position and power. His self-interest comes first.”
I swallowed. I hoped he was wrong, but ... all of a sudden, I believed, really believed, that Malachi had been raised in Water Shallot. He’d have a very different view of the aristocracy than a pure-blooded aristocrat. And he was swearing like a trooper ...
“You know it as well as I do,” Malachi said. “Do you think your friend would hesitate, even for a second, if she had a chance to bend you to her will?”
You didn’t, I thought, nastily.
I put that out of my mind. “I take your point,” I said. “I’m sure Ayesha will bring us something useful.”
“Take the time to twist the screws again, if she balks,” Malachi said. “She’s already given us the money. She’ll give us more.”
“Yes, My Lord,” I said.
“And twist your other friend too,” Malachi said. “She’ll bring you something soon.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Marlene didn’t have anything ... we’d push her into committing crimes or running for her life. My thoughts mocked me, reminding me of all the times Marlene and I had clashed. Back then ... I ground my teeth. I’d been a different person. And she’d been living a lie. She must have lain awake for hours, fearing what would happen when one of her cronies asked to spend the summer at her house ...
Malachi cleared his throat. “But I didn’t call you here just to talk,” he said. “I have a job for you.”
He walked around the table and pointed a finger at me. The world went black. I yelped, jumping back in shock. Blinding hexes were rare ... I knew they were possible, but I didn’t know the spell. There weren’t many hexes that meant certain punishment at school, no matter who used them or why, but Mistress Grayling had made it clear that blinding hexes were very definitely on the list. I felt my cheeks burn as Malachi chuckled, enjoying my discomfort. I was blind, he could be anywhere ... I heard a rustling sound from the far side of the room. I guessed he was opening a hidden safe ...
Blinding light stabbed into my eyes. I covered my eyes hastily, then carefully lowered my hands. Malachi was standing in front of me, holding a memory orb in one hand. I wished I’d kept my eyes covered. He was staring at the orb as if it were the key to eternal life. I shuddered, feeling a pang of sympathy for whoever’s memories were preserved within the orb. It couldn’t be anything pleasant.
“Here,” Malachi said. “What do you make of it?”
I took the orb and peered into the light. The memory rose up and enveloped me. I was peering into a kitchen, staring at a middle-aged woman as she dripped ... something into a mug of liquid. The woman didn’t seem to see me as she returned the dripper to her pocket, then contaminated a second mug. I - the person who’d seen the memory - inched back and down the corridor, then advanced forward, stamping so loudly that she sounded like a pair of charging elephants. The middle-aged woman looked annoyed as I walked into the kitchen, but didn’t snap at me. She appeared to be raidi
ng the cupboards for food.
No. I recognised the signs. She’s trying to conceal what she was actually doing.
The memory went on. I passed the woman a book, then picked up the tray and headed upstairs. I felt my legs ache as I reached the top of the stairs and carried the tray into a study. A morbidly obese man sat there, reading a newspaper. His look, as I placed the tray beside him, was a blatant leer. His eyes left trails of slime on my breasts. My skin crawled as I curtseyed and backed out of the room. The memory came to an end ...
“Lord Mathews,” Malachi said. He sounded as if he’d known the man. “Dear Lord Mathews. Died thirty years ago, seemingly of a heart condition. Seemingly. There were no suggestions of foul play. He was strikingly overweight, with a habit of gorging himself from morning ’til night. It wasn’t until recently that his wife’s serving maid visited me. She told me her mistress poisoned her husband.”
“Oh,” I said. I’d never heard of Lord Mathews. If he’d died eleven years before my birth, it was unlikely anyone would have thought to mention him to me. “And no one noticed?”
“They would have had to perform an autopsy very quickly, if they wanted to find proof,” Malachi said. “Lady Mathews used two separate potions to kill him. Separately, they’re harmless. They don’t set off alarms. Together, they’re lethal. Lord Mathews drank both mugs and died. By the time anyone found the body, the traces of magic were long gone. No one was particularly surprised he’d died, either. He was on course for a real heart attack when he was murdered.”
I remembered the obese man and shuddered. The girl who’d taken the memory had been terrified. I didn’t blame her. “And ... and what do you want me to do with the orb?”
“Lady Mathews has been living in North Shallot for the past thirty years,” Malachi said. “She’s had a pair of lovers in that time, but she’s kept her husband’s name and property. His will stipulated that it would be passed down to their children upon his death. However, as she murdered him, she could be legally stripped of his property at any moment. His family could reclaim it, without - perhaps - giving any to his children.”
“And ...” I shook my head. I’d heard no one could profit from their crimes - which was a joke, in the aristocracy - but the children were blameless. I assumed they didn’t know their mother was a murderess. “There’re not going to make any provision for the children?”
“I don’t know.” Malachi gave me a sharp look. “And you know what? I don’t care. I want you to go to Lady Mathews, show her the orb, and explain she can either pay us or have her secret broadcast to the entire city. I’m sure she’ll pay.”
“You want me to go to her ...”
“Yes.” Malachi glared at me. “You can talk to her without arousing comment. You can handle the negotiations privately. You can even arrange for the money to be transferred without people noticing. And then you can give the money to me.”
His eyes hardened. “Are you under the impression you have a choice?”
“No, My Lord,” I said. Had I gone too far? I wanted to reach for one of the weapons and use it before it was too late. “I just ...”
“Kneel,” Malachi ordered. “Now.”
I cringed, inwardly, as I went down on my knees. I didn’t want to do as he ordered, I didn’t want to blackmail someone who’d never done me any harm, but ... I knew, all too well, that I was going to do it. I didn’t have a choice. Malachi had brought me into his web, bent me to his will. I was going to do something that would compromise me still further ...
Malachi looked down at me. “You will go to her,” he said. “You will give her the message and make arrangements to receive the money. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, My Lord,” I said. I tried not to sound sullen. Or to shudder when he ran his hands through my hair. “I understand perfectly.”
“Excellent.” Malachi tapped the orb. “When I see you again, I expect you to have good news. I want information from your friends and money from Lady Mathews.”
“Yes, My Lord,” I said. Sweat prickled at my back. Time was running out. “I’ll see to it personally.”
“See that you do,” Malachi said. He patted my head, allowing his fingers to trail through my hair again. “The coachman will take you to the lady’s house and drop you there. I wouldn’t want you to get lost along the way.”
“No, My Lord.” I swallowed my pride as best as I could. “I’ll do as you command.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lady Mathews didn’t live in one of the bigger mansions, somewhat to my relief. I didn’t want witnesses. Instead, she lived in a relatively small house set within a neat little garden nicely isolated from the rest of the street. I jumped down from the carriage, hearing it rattle away as I studied the gate and the house beyond. It was small, with only two stories, but land was costly in North Shallot. Gary and his father would have to expend their entire fortune just to buy a tiny bungalow. There were a handful of wards drifting over the house, but nothing too elaborate. It didn’t look as if Lady Mathews felt she had anything to fear.
I braced myself, trying not to feel too bad as I pressed my hand against the gate. The wards looked at me, decided I wasn’t a hawker or a trader and opened to allow me to walk up to the door. The path was thinner than I’d expected, wrapped within bushes and trees that provided a natural barrier. It looked bucolic, but there was an edge to it that bothered me. I guessed Lady Mathews didn’t want to entertain guests. Some of the plants within eyeshot were poisonous. A couple were even on the banned list.
Good thing Malachi never visited, I thought. The air was heavy with pollen, strong enough to make me dizzy. I hastily cast a filtering spell. He’d have used that to blackmail her, too.
The door was solid wood. I raised a hand and tapped smartly, wondering who’d open the door. A servant? Or Lady Mathews herself? She’d have servants ... or would she? One of them had clearly betrayed her. I tensed as the door opened, revealing a young girl barely entering her teens. She wore a simple maid’s outfit, so outdated I was sure it had been sewn long before she’d been born. I guessed she’d only recently gone into service. She lacked the flawless perfection of older, more experienced servants.
“I’m here to see Lady Mathews,” I said. “I’m Lady Lamplighter.”
It struck me, an instant too late, how odd it was for me to approach Lady Mathews without sending a message first. Lady Mathews would know something was wrong, the moment her maid announced me. I wondered if that was part of the point. Malachi had set out to unsettle me from the very first moment he’d entered my life. And he certainly hadn’t given me time to do anything else. I felt dirty as the maid dropped a shabby curtsy and hurried back into the darkness, without so much as inviting me across the threshold. Poor girl. I knew mistresses who’d throw her onto the streets - back onto the streets, perhaps - for such a mistake.
The girl returned and bobbed another curtsey. “My Lady, My Lady will see you now.”
My lips twitched as I tried to parse the sentence. Technically, it should have been ... I smiled to myself as she led me into the house and up a flight of stairs. It didn’t matter. The house was small, but comfortable. I guessed it was too small to have separate quarters, stairs and passageways for servants. Lady Mathews probably hadn’t felt the need to isolate herself from her trusted retainers ... I frowned. It wasn’t the hall I’d seen in the memory. I wished I’d had time to do some research. It would have been useful to know just what the public thought of Lady Mathews.
I felt my frown grow deeper as we walked down the short corridor. The walls were lined with paintings, all showing landscapes and landmarks rather than ancestors. It was odd, for a person of aristocratic birth. We held our ancestors within our memories ... I shivered, wondering precisely why Lady Mathews had murdered her husband. He might not have been a very nice man. His servant had clearly hated and feared him.
The little maid pushed a door open. “Your Ladyship, Lady Lamplighter.”
I hid my amusement
as I stepped into the room. It was clearly a reading room, rather than a study. There were no desks, no hard chairs ... there weren’t even any filing cabinets. The walls were lined with bookshelves, practically bursting with volumes on hundreds of subjects. Lady Mathews sat in an armchair, reading a book of magic. The giant window behind her provided all the light she needed.
“Lady Lamplighter,” Lady Mathews said. She put the book to one side and studied me through calm blue eyes. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
She glanced at the maid. “Thank you, Poppy. That will be all.”
No tea, I thought. I would have been offended, if I’d come of my own free will. Refusing to so much as offer a drink was a very clear sign someone was unwelcome. She doesn’t want me here.
The Lady Heiress (The Zero Enigma Book 8) Page 32