Expectations (wlw)

Chapter 16

"And you bring this--“ He swept his arm viciously around the room, gesturing to the guards, “--to make a childish play at intimidation.”

Really, I knew it was only a matter of time before I exploded.

“I’m entitled to this,” I said, batting his arm away, the one still pointed at me.

“Entitled is what you are, you dare bite the hand that feeds you--“

“I am your fucking patron. You’ve done nothing but ride on the coattails of what my dead parents left me!
I want you out. Now.” He froze. “Tell your attendees that party’s over.”

Aunt looked like she was going to faint.

“You can’t do that. As your guardian I have to stay--“

“I don’t care! I’ll file for emancipation, I’ll make Henry seneschal like he should have been when they died. I trust his right arm more than the both of you combined.”

Uncle was silent for a moment, shaking with indignant rage. Then he spoke quietly, in the voice of a man desperately trying to keep it together:

“Then we’ll meet again in court. I trust you’re capable of finding a lawyer willing to help you.”

Sinister triumph crept into his face. Uncle had a lot of friends, plying them with promises, with favors that he had no power to fulfill. He wasn’t patriarch, but he might as well have been in the eyes of his peers, because the Master of the House was an indisposed child.

When we spoke, I told the Attorney that it’d be an uphill battle, and that was if I could even find someone to represent me. She had proposed a working solution.

Presently, without missing a beat, Attorney Isobel took a step forward so that she was right beside Uncle.

“Yes, that would be me.” She held out a hand. “Isobel Gracián, Miss Santander’s attorney. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Uncle stared up at her face, then down to her outstretched hand, and then back up again. His face flickered to confusion, then disbelief, and then finally the rising hysteria of someone who knows they’re made a major misstep.

He knew who she was. Every aristocrat on this side of the world, sleaze or otherwise, knew who she was. Attorney Isobel had built a reputation for herself as a vicious human rights lawyer before she even married the Baron.

Uncle vaguely addressed Aunt. “Will you tell the guests that there’s been an emergency?”

Isobel’s solution had been to masquerade as one of the guards in order to accompany me in the confrontation. She also offered to represent me. I objected to both, but she pointed out that it was my best option. At any rate, she fit in perfectly among the real security detail.

I doubt she planned on revealing herself so early though. I had asked her why she was going to lengths such as this to help me.

“It’s not just because it’s personal now, Samantha. I’ve spent my whole life rooting out villainy and I’ll do it again,” she had said. I almost felt bad for Uncle. Almost.

I left that room just as the Attorney had begun talking about emails and Uncle had to sit back down.

The attendees were taking their leave just as I came to the hall. Most were openly staring at me and the air was abuzz with chatter.

Maybe they'll call it a power struggle, make it sound much more dramatic than what it is, but it'll certainly keep the rumor mill turning. I was the mysterious rarely-seen, oft-grieving Mistress of the House--most of these people haven’t caught a glimpse of me in years--and he was a fifty year-old socialite. I didn’t even have an image to ruin, and he had damn near everything he absorbed from me to lose.

When the last of the guests had been ushered out and the great doors were shut, Henry approached me at the abandoned table I had claimed for myself.

“Young Miss,” he began, “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

I made a noncommittal grunting noise. He put his hands behind his back.

“I have never been one for idle talk, but as steward I hear the House and its denizens."

Everyone here talked like that. I worked so hard on dropping it before I even had to go to the academy. Nonetheless, I found comfort in it now.

“What I wish for you to know--“ Henry continued, sounding like he went to butler school (he did), “is that your parents entrusted you into my care--unofficially--and I fail to see why that should change, even in this time of transition.”

We all say 'I love you' in different ways. Henry would never say it in three words when he could say it in thirty-two. I could barely say it at all. So instead I wrapped in an embrace the man who because my father in the years since. He returned it warmly.

The night was young, but I felt worn out by the time Uncle slinked through the hall on his way out. We ignored each other.

The Attorney followed shortly. “There you are, Miss Samantha. Your Uncle and I had a less than productive talk. I assume I’ll be speaking to his lawyer moving forward.”

I nodded, then remembered that I was an acting host now.

“Henry,” who was hovering nearby, “will you show the Attorney and her guards their rooms?”

He bobbed his head and led the way out of the hall, everyone else following after him.

Before she left, the Attorney promised to catch me up on things come the morning.

When the hall was emptied of every other soul save for myself, I took the time to take in the sight. The vast room felt a little like myself; all dolled up, ready to be used.

While the room had no choice--and frankly, I don’t think it minded--I was on a mission to reclaim what had become of my life.

After I got tired of savoring the moment, I let my body take me to the place my mind wanted to see.

I opened the door that was the same as every other door in this house except it wasn’t, and was greeted by the sight of a familiar eyesore.

The room was as bruised and bleeding as the last time and we both felt the sting when I crossed the threshold. There were many memories here, but I was only interested in one.

The book perhaps knew me better than I did, all this time. Three familiar faces looked up at me from beyond the page, and the walls began their familiar squeeze.

One of them was mine, colored with youth and the sweetness of having no idea what was coming. Dad was the tallest. They say I have his eyes, an incredibly dark brown that looked mirror-black, until they caught the light and gleamed like suns. Too bad I don’t have his height.

I was taller than mother, at least. She always had her hair cropped short or shorn completely, and always laughed when people tried to tell her all about it. Dad loved it and he loved her and she loved him, and they loved me. I loved them then, and I loved them still. Sometimes I wished I was in that plane too.

But this wasn’t one of those times, and I didn’t feel the walls anymore.

I wondered what they would think of me now. Maybe they’d be proud.

Taking the entire book, I set it on the gilded nightstand, face up and open. Maybe I’ll get it framed tomorrow. I haven’t been in this childhood bed of mine for years, but I still remember what it’s like to lie in it. I’ll get the picture framed.

I woke up to my belt buckle digging into my hip. The sunlight was faintly streaming into the room from the edges of the drapes, and I was still in last night’s clothes.

My eyes were bleary and blurred still, but I haven’t slept as soundly as I had last night for weeks.

Breakfast was a quiet ordeal. Two of the guards were still sat at the table. We nodded to each other when I came in.

A little while later, the Attorney entered. This was the most casual I’ve seen her, dressed in a loose shirt and chinos, her chin-length hair raked back, like she’d combed her fingers through them. That’s what Fairul would look like when she got older, and I had to smack myself for the thought.

The Attorney saw, and she raised an eyebrow as she headed straight for me. The moment passed, and she didn’t even ask. Isobel took the seat in front of me.

“You have a beautiful home, Miss Samantha. I hope you don’t mind me finding my way around.”

“Of course not. How is it? I haven’t seen much of it recently, as you know.”

She nodded and glanced around the dining room. “It’s what you would expect, from a House like yours.”

I hummed. “Did you know?”

“Who you were? I can’t give a definite answer. I know of your House, I know of what happened, but I had no idea where the kid went.” I sipped on my water glass, waiting for her to continue.

“I did think it was you. I asked my daughter, but she said she couldn’t tell. I suppose I convinced myself. You’re not very typical.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She laughed, and her guards broke their conversation to look at her and turned back to each other again. “You know what I mean. Children born into power don’t often resign themselves to personal responsibility.”

“I’ve resigned myself to a lot of things.”

“I can see that,” she said dryly. “Tell me, if you had all of this, why play along with their scheme, even just a little?”

I suppose she meant Aunt and Uncle’s ploy to take me off of their hands so they could be free to take my House, in senses literal or otherwise.

“I agreed to go because it meant I’d be away from them,” I said, knowing that I sounded petulant now.” And, you know, resignation.”

She smiled and I thought faintly of Fairul. “Leave it to me now.”