When all were sat, began the reading. Oh, if Del only knew what was coming her way.
The quiet felt overwhelming, and Del forced herself to take a sip of her tea. The cup rattled loudly when she sat it back down on the table, deafening against the pregnant silence. The attorney cleared his throat. "Since you're all here, we may begin."
Tension penetrated through the walls of the room. "I, Alaric Francis Ladrian," read Mr. O'Hare, "being of sound body and mind, decree that all my worldly possessions be disposed of as follows. To Mr. Shoupe and family, for generations of service to our House, I bequeath the piece of land I own at Cornwall with rent-free tenancy for life. To my brother, Finnegan Ladrian, I give my cherished grandfather clock, the antique family heirloom that I believe he would take the utmost care of. And to my daughter, Delana Rose Ladrian, I leave all my remaining monetary wealth, properties, and material assets."
It took Del a moment to understand what those words meant. And all she could think was, That was...short.
A stunned silence shrouded the room.
"What?" her uncle roared, making the old Blackwell couple flinch. "Is this some sort of a joke? I—I can't—Bah! The senile old fool leaves me a clock? How dare he! What was he thinking--?" He spluttered, words failing him in his anger. Instead, he settled on shattering the glass souvenirs sitting on the mantle above the unlit fireplace.
"Stop it!" Lord Blackwell rose in unsteady legs, his face reddening with anger. It was almost comical. "Our son-in-law got our daughter killed! And our grandchild! And left nothing in compensation! What is the meaning of this?" He turned to the lawyer. "There must be some mistake! Is there no way to change—"
"No." The word came out clipped from the lawyer. "The will is ironclad."
"Unbelievable!" her uncle shouted. Suddenly, he turned on his heels, fast approaching Del who sat quietly at one corner. He would've grabbed her by the throat, but from nowhere the headguard slipped in before her, restraining the struggling man who yelled hoarsely, "You did this, you half-breed bitch! How'd you do it? How'd you—"
Del stood up, abruptly cold, a rush of anger shooing away all confusion. But it was more than anger. A familiar sensation rose in the pits of her stomach. The room faded from view. Only her uncle remained. The sensation coiled tighter, like a rattlesnake in her chest, hissing. A sudden awareness dawning on her, she pushed the feeling down, sweat beading on her forehead.
She remembered a stern voice saying, Be aware. Feel. That's the first step.
She placed a hand on the guard, asking him silently to loosen his hold on Uncle. On close proximity, Del could smell the alcohol on him as he sneered down at her, eyes bloodshot.
"Enough," she said, her voice quiet. "I believe, Uncle, you're trespassing on private property. You aren't welcome here. Leave before I am forced to throw you out."
Her uncle gaped as the Blackwells cried out in outrage. The guard loomed behind Del. "You heard the lady," he barked.
Snarling, Uncle leaned close to her, his breath making her nose wrinkle. "This isn't over, niece." He stalked out, shattering another bauble on his way out. Delana turned pleasantly towards the couple, throwing a faux smile at them. "You may see yourselves out." Waving dismissively, she strutted out of the room. She didn't stop walking until she'd climbed upstairs and slammed herself behind the doors to her room. The coldness faded, and she crumbled down on the floor.
Her head felt dizzy, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. What in the name of the Lord just happened? She'd only come back here to pay her respects, to say her last goodbyes, to cut off her father from her life once and for all. She'd come for closure. Not this. She'd never wanted to stay here, and certainly never wanted to be in charge of a House she hated associating with.
She'd been happy abroad, engaging in her...studies and scholarship. And now a curveball had been thrown in her life. She'd encountered scarier things in life, been forced to accept harsher truths. Yet, right now, her world seemed to tilt before her.
On one hand, a part of her was deeply satisfied remembering the outraged looks on the faces of her Uncle and the Blackwells as they felt all that money slip out of their fingers like water. And to her--just a harmless bastard of the family, a shameful reminder, a useless appendage her father had been ready to marry away at a moment's notice. Now she was the Lady of House Ladrian.
Her father was a spiteful man, Del knew that. He'd hated his brother, often referring to him as a leech, sucking away at the works of his betters. But it had always been clear that if his son, Alaric Jr., couldn't inherit under some unfortunate circumstance, it would be his brother. Even his wife could only receive a meagre portion. Women weren't the inheritors.
So, why did he do this?
Frowning, and full of questions, Del gathered herself, and walked down again. The house seemed empty suddenly. Oppressive, even in the broad daylight streaming in from the windows. It seemed both smaller and larger than what she remembered, both alien and familiar simultaneously.
She found herself back on the parlor where Mr. Shoupe was quietly conversing with the attorney, showing him out. They stopped upon spotting her.
"Did you know about this?" she asked Mr. Shoupe. His eyes widened at her accusing tone.
"No! My Lady, you must believe me, I had no idea!"
Del nodded. She believed him, and not just because she was fond of the old man. His distress sounded genuine, and she could see no reason for him to lie. He and his had served this House for generations. It was a wonder he hadn't swooned with anguish as he imagined Del, of all people, trying to run this place. Spots danced in her vision as she considered the implications. Finances, council meetings, balls. Suitors. Nausea built in her stomach. Wealth would most certainly outweigh racial heritage. And people would expect her to marry. After all, running a House was a man's job.
"Why would he do this?" she whispered, leaning against the door frame.
Mr. O'Hare said, his voice sympathetic, "I cannot answer that question, my Lady. But I must warn you, you're still in probationary period. Should something happen to you in this short time, the court will get involved, and there's a high probability the inheritance would be passed on to the next best candidate." He paused, letting that sink in, before saying, "Your uncle is next in line, I hope you realize that."
Horror settled on her belly. What was he implying? Surely, her uncle wouldn't...
No, she realized. No, he would. He most certainly would. He was a dangerous, unpredictable variable.
Mr. O'Hare hesitated on the threshold of the front door, turning to Del once again. "My lady, if I may be so bold, I realize you've been away for three years. In the Americas, I believe? Pursuing scholarship and such, eh? Good, good, a young woman should be educated."
Del stilled, chewing on her lip, nodding tightly, and willing herself to act normal.
"But," he paused, "I'm not sure how equipped you are to handle the situation House Ladrian is in. To put it simply, your House is..." He waited for her to catch on; she didn't. "Broke, Miss Ladrian. Or hanging at the edge of it."
Del just stared dumbly. Right embarrassing. Why was she acting like some sort of simpleton?
"Your father was imprudent with his spending," Mr. O'Hare said by way of explanation.
"He was a gambler," she said bluntly. "But surely a little gambling wouldn't threaten all of our assets?"
Mr. Shoupe exchanged a look with the attorney. "My lady, it isn't the money he lost in gambling that's the problem, per se. It was his growing neglect towards house finances and failing to maintain a stronghold on trade and commerce."
Del took a deep, shaky breath. "We'll talk about this later." She shook her head, hurrying out of there. She just wasn't in the mindset to talk of such things at this very moment. What mess had she landed herself in? Perhaps this is why he left her in charge.
To see her sink along with the House.
***
Author's note: Hi! Just dropping in to say a fun fact. The name 'Ladrian' has always appealed to me. I first saw it used in a trilogy by Brandon Sanderson called 'Mistborn.' (Go read that right now, if you haven't! The series deserves all the love!) Also, Delana was a character who I'd crafted in the image of another woman named Jasnah Kholin--another amazing character by the author Brandon Sanderson. She belongs to the universe of the Stormlight Archives. (Go read that too! It's just about the best thing I've ever read. No cap.) All in all, BrandoSando has been a big inspiration for me always haha. Also, that was two fun facts. Oops.
Anyways, all that aside, how are you enjoying the story? Or is it too soon to tell? Please do hit the star button if you've enjoyed the chapters so far! Thank you XD