"This..." I swallowed, staring at the page in front of me. "Is this true?"
Ella nodded solemnly. "It is."
"What is?" The other girls, curious pests that they were, stuck their heads over my shoulders. "Let me see!"
In a blink, the book was snatched away by Eve—only for her to nearly collapse under the weight.
"Gah!"
"Be careful!" Flora lunged forward. "I'll help you—oumph!"
For a moment longer, the two of them struggled with the behemoth of a book. When they had finally managed to manoeuvre it into a readable position, they eagerly leaned over the yellowed pages and started to read aloud.
"...is a well-known fact that the laws pertaining to heredity are based on traditions originating from medieval times. In this area of the law of our fair kingdom, a curious division exists due to the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Norman legal systems. Most peerages in the realm follow the system of patrilineal primogeniture introduced by King William the Conqueror and his Norman vassals when they introduced their customs into English society during the conquest of 1066 AD. However, a rare few peerages..."
Letting her voice trail off, Eve glanced up and sent Ella a dour look. "Is this legal drivel supposed to do anything other than give me a headache?"
"Read on," Ella commanded. "Now."
With a grumble, Eve bent down and continued.
"...however, some peerages established before the conquest, such as Markland, Herringford or Ambrose, continue the outdated Saxon custom of absolute primogeniture. This means that, for such a title, the oldest child will inherit regardless of whether it be male or female. Additionally, if it is a male heir, yet he chooses to renounce his claim, then said title may be inherited by his oldest sibling, be they...male...or...female..."
For a long moment, silence descended over the library.
Until...
"Holy. Crap."
"That is one way of putting it."
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
"Yes, Eve." Ella nodded proudly. "Yes, it does."
"Holy Moly..." Flora breathed. "Just wait till Adaira hears of this."
"I can hear the maniacal cackling already."
"So, it's really true." Swallowing, I stepped towards the book once more and gazed down at the passage that changed everything. "Adaira can inherit."
"How the heck did we miss this?" Eve demanded. "Why didn't we even think of the idea that Adaira herself might be able to become Marchioness Ambrose? We're feminists, goddammit! That's the kind of thing we should have thought of first! So why?"
"Probably because the world is full of chauvinistic bastards?" Snorting, I gestured at the portraits of men in imperious poses covering all parts of the walls that weren't covered by bookshelves. "Why would we assume that anything can be inherited by women when, through most of recent history, nothing could be? These old laws, though..." Smirking, I tapped my finger on the book. "These laws come from the dark ages, when people were too busy trying not to starve to worry about what other people have between their legs. And, apparently, nobody ever bothered to change them."
"So," Eve recapitulated with mounting excitement, "all we have to do is to tell Lilly's man that he needs to publicly renounce his title. He can keep his business empire and, with his younger sister, the old marquess will get the heir he wants.
"And...the marriage?" Flora asked timidly, though she couldn't disguise the hope in her voice. "Won't it still happen?"
I smirked. I just couldn't help it. After all the desperation, suddenly knowing there was a way forward was liberating! "The whole point of the marriage was to use it as a threat against my husband, to force him to give up his businesses. If that isn't necessary because Adaira is the heir instead of her brother, what's the point of the marriage?"
"But will the marquess accept this?" Flora asked anxiously. "He...doesn't seem to be very feministically inclined. Would he expect a woman as his heir?"
"That's the beauty of this plan!" Eve cackled. "Don't you get it? As long as Lilly's hubby abdicates his position as heir, the old codger will have no choice but to accept it! Adaira will be the only one left who can continue his beloved noble line. And, more importantly, do you think he'll let his precious heir marry a Frenchman? It's all right as long as she is just a younger daughter, but when she is his heir? When she is the only one who can continue his house and his name? Ha! Not on your life!"
With a broad grin, she turned towards my little sister. "Great job, Ella! You did amazing work!"
"I, um...I did? Yes, I guess I did." Ella preened. "I'm pretty amazing, aren't I?"
"You most certainly are!" I confirmed, giving my little sister a pat on the shoulder. "Though...how exactly did you find out about this? Did you actually read this—" I pointed at the terrifying tome of legal language. "—for relaxation purposes after an exhausting morning? Because if you did, I'll have to question your sanity."
"Oh, ehem, well...no. I, um, am simply quite knowledgeable and learned and—"
I gave Ella my patented elder-sister-look. Her ears went red.
"I, ehem...read about it in an old romance novel during my reading binge. There was this whole thing about a young, intrepid heroine fighting for her right to inherit her ancestral home that was about to be snatched away by a wicked baron who wanted to ravish her and—"
Her voice abruptly cut off when she noticed I was giving her the elder-sister-look again.
"Oy! Don't look at me like that, Lill! Reading literature is good for you!"
"I'm sure it is. I'm just not sure that particular kind of book can be counted as 'literature'."
Stubbornly, she raised her chin. "Well, it got us a way to save Adaira, didn't it?"
I opened my mouth—then paused and closed it again. "Huh. You're right."
The little minx dared to smirk at me. "Ha! There, you see?"
"Um..." Cautiously, Flora raised a hand. "I don't want to rain on your parade, but...there might be a little flaw in the plan. Can heirs renounce their titles? Is such a thing legally possible?"
I grinned. "If it isn't now, it will be by the time my dear husband is done with the House of Lords. I believe the promise that, once he ascends to the title of marquess, he will take on the role of treasurer and be responsible for checking the House's finances should be sufficient motivation to de-noble him at the earliest opportunity, don't you think?"
My friends took a moment or two to imagine that beautiful picture. The entire House of Lords, cowering in fear and clutching their purses.
"Yes." Eve nodded, smirking widely. "Yes, I could see that working."
"So...what next?" I asked, meeting the eyes of everyone else, one after another. A silent understanding formed between us.
"Find the marquess?" Flora suggested.
"Kick his arse," Eve Added, cracking her knuckles.
Well, maybe not entirely silent. But this kind of understanding was fine as well.
I grinned. "I knew there was a reason you were my friends!"
"Oy!" Ella lifted a hand. "What about me?"
"Well, naturally there's also a reason you are my sister." My grin widened. "It's probably because when our father and mother were feeling antsy one night, the birds and the bees—"
"Lalala!" Ella sang, stuffing her fingers into her ears. "Lalala, I can't hear you!"
My grin became so wide it nearly split my face apart. God, did it feel good to smile again!
"Hey, you two," Eve cut in. "Not that I want to interrupt your comedy performance, but..." She lifted her fist meaningfully.
"Ah, yes." I nodded. "Arse-kicking."
"Indeed." Ella nodded solemnly. "Let's focus on what's truly important in life."
"Should we invite my husband?" I suggested. "I usually wouldn't mind making a girl's night out of this—but this is his father we're talking about. Who are we to stand in the way of a family reunion, right? Particularly a reunion between a son's boot and a father's bottom."
"That might be a good idea," Flora agreed with an innocent smile. "I've seen your husband walk around the grounds. He has steel-tipped boots."
My friends really were the best.
"Great! Let's get Lilly's ball and chain!" Clapping, Eve beamed—then suddenly frowned, glancing around. "By the way, where is he? He was right behind us after that bloody duel, but he didn't join us for our little pity party, did he?"
"No, he didn't." Ella peeked around the shelf. "And he doesn't seem to be here now, either. Lill, do you have any idea where—"
"Oh crap!"
A sudden, ominous feeling overcame me. Why?
Because I suddenly asked myself this question: what would Mr Rikkard Ambrose do if his sister was about to be married against her will? Especially since he had already tried to kidnap her once and had lots of armed minions in the house?
The ominous feeling inside me doubled and tripled.
"Come on, girls! Get moving!"
"Huh? Lilly, what—?"
"Not now! Move!"
I didn't wait for their reaction. At the moment, I didn't have that luxury. Racing down the corridor formed by the many shelves of the library, I completely ignored the librarian's stern glance and dashed out of the room. From behind me, I heard footsteps and knew my friends were following, but I didn't bother to look back. Right then and there, I was utterly focused on rushing forward at full speed. It wasn't long before I arrived in front of mine and Mr Ambrose's bedroom door. Grabbing the doorknob, I pushed and...
For a moment, I thought I entered the wrong room. Was this a couple's bedchamber, or the manor's armoury? Because the number of guns in the room sure as hell suggested the latter! Plus, for a couple's private place, the number of big, burly men in the room was a bit excessive. Never mind that they were all currently busy loading guns.
"Ehem."
I cleared my throat to announce my arrival. Everyone looked up—everyone, that is, except for Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who was still busy loading his weapon. Coincidentally, he held the biggest gun in the entire room.
"What is it, Mr Linton?"
"Mr Ambrose...put down the gun."
"No."
It was only one word. Short. Clipped. Cold. But it perfectly conveyed his determination.
"Mr Ambrose, Sir, I said put down the gun. You are not going to stage a reenactment of the Hundred Year's War in your family's home. You—"
"Don't!" Abruptly, he raised a hand to cut me off. The hand holding the gun. Well, at least he wasn't pointing it at me. "Don't, Mrs Ambrose. I have had enough of that sorry excuse for a man who calls himself my father! I will—"
That was when I stuck a page under his nose. A page I had torn from a certain law book.
Instinctively, his eyes zeroed in on the writing in front of him and he began to read.
His mouth dropped open.
Then he continued to read. And then he continued to read some more. Even though most of his face was hidden behind the page, I could clearly see the arctic light appearing in his eyes.
"I see."
"You do, Sir?"
"Indeed. Mr Linton?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Come here."
He didn't wait for me to obey. Instead, he grabbed hold of me and, letting the crumpled page fall to the ground, caught me in a vice-tight hug. Before I could say a peep, his lips came crashing down on mine, hungrily devouring my mouth.
"Thank you."
The raspy whisper was so low only I could hear it. But the intensity of it reverberated in my very soul.
"Y-you know that I wasn't the one to come up with this right?"
"Then do you wish me to kiss the one who did, instead?"
"Shutting up now."
"Adequate, Mr Linton."
And he kissed me again. Hard.
"Ehem." A cough like a rumbling volcano momentarily pulled me from the land of bliss. Glancing sideways, I caught sight of Karim, who was purposefully studying the ceiling and avoiding looking our way. Adorable. "Not that I want to interrupt, Sahib, Sahiba, but what is going on? More importantly, do I still have to shoot someone?"
Wordlessly, I gestured to the piece of paper on the ground. My lips were a little bit too occupied to answer right now.
Grumbling, Karim bent down to pick up the page. Once he was upright again, he straightened the paper and began to read.
His mouth dropped open.
Then he continued to read. And then he continued to read some more.
Which was good, because I was still rather busy. When, finally, Mr Rikkard Ambrose broke away from me, my legs felt like butter beneath me and my breath was coming hard and heavy. Mr Ambrose captured my chin in his hand, his eyes boring into mine.
"Will you accompany me, my wife? It seems I have a title to abdicate."
"And some arse to kick!" came Eve's voice from the corridor outside.
I pointed towards the door. "What she said."
"Hm. Acceptable." Glancing sideways, he inspected Karim and, in particular, the big bodyguard's equally massive boots. "Karim?"
"Yes, Sahib?"
"Come along. I believe your services will be required."
Karim's beard moved in a way that could almost hint at a smile, if you squinted just right. "As you command, Sahib!"
Together, we stepped out into the corridor, where Ella and my two friends were already waiting for us. It didn't escape my attention that the three dozen armed men followed us without hesitation. And while they kept their guns holstered, they did not leave them behind. Like a column of soldiers marching to war, we made our way down the corridor towards the marquess's office—only to find it empty of its owner. The only one in the room was a maid dusting the shelves.
"You. Where is my father?" Mr Ambrose enquired with his customary excellent manners.
The young woman quickly dipped into a curtsy. "Last time I saw him, My Lord, he was taking Lady Adaira to the yellow drawing room, to discuss the matter of her upcoming marriage. He should still be there, unless those two young ladies needed him for something important."
"I see. Adequate." Whirling around, Mr Ambrose stalked back to the door—only to stop in mid-step. "Wait a moment...two young ladies? What two young ladies?"
A sudden, ominous feeling came over me. It wasn't exactly ameliorated by the maid's next words.
"I believe their names were Miss Patsy and Miss Amy, My Lord. They also wanted to know where the marquess was and mentioned something in regard to a good thrashing?" Puzzled, the young woman cocked her head. "Although I don't understand that part. Isn't thrashing wheat usually left to the local tenant farmers? Begging your pardon, My Lord, but it doesn't appear to be very seemly for young ladies to do this."
"Um..." I cleared my throat. "Somehow I doubt they were referring to thrashing whea—"
Just then, an unearthly shriek echoed through the halls of the manor, as if a banshee had been poked in the posterior by a unicorn going three-hundred miles per hour.
"What was that?" Eve demanded.
"More importantly," Flora added, "where did it come from?"
"That..." Ella paled just a little bit. "That sounded as if it came from the yellow drawing room."
Before anyone could check the veracity of this claim, a crash sounded from somewhere down the hallway. It was followed by cursing and hurried footsteps.
"Oy! Don't ye dare run, ye bloody coward!"
"Halt, you wicked villain! I shall visit justice upon you in the name of all the women of the country!"
A moment later, an aristocratic blur dashed past the lot of us without even paying attention to the heavily armed group of thugs that was coming out of his office. Hot on his heels followed Patsy Cusack armed with a steel-reinforced parasol and Amy Weston swinging a half-empty whiskey bottle.
For a moment, we heard nothing but the sound of quickly receding feet, then—
Crash!
Was that a window shattering? Yep, definitely a window.
Splash!
And that sounded like something heavy landing in the fountain outside the window. Or someone.
I cleared my throat. "You know what? My female intuition tells me we probably won't have to deal with the marquess anymore."
"That's funny!" Eve exclaimed. "My female intuition told me exactly the same."
"Female intuition is a mysterious force." Flora nodded solemnly.
"Oh, shut up, you three!" Ella grabbed hold of me from behind. "Instead of wasting time, you should rather think about what we are going to do now!"
"Well..." Smiling an evil smile, I let my eyes sweep over my assembled family and friends. "His Lordship the Marquess seems to be taken care of. Who does that leave?"
They exchanged glances.
"It occurs to me," Mr Ambrose stated, "that we haven't paid a visit to the vicomte yet. As well-mannered people, we should inform him of the cancellation of his engagement. Forcefully."
"Oh my." Eve blinked. "I find myself agreeing with a man. Wonders never cease."
"Me, too." Flora piped up.
Ella nodded. "Me as well."
"Well, we all know I can never disagree with my dear Dick," I stated, eliciting a snort of laughter from my friends, whom I was going to punish later.
Not now, though. For now, there were more important matters to attend to.
Smiling, I pointed down the corridor. "Let's go, shall we?"
My dear husband cracked his knuckles. "Indeed. Let's."
----------------------------------------------
My dear Readers,
Well, how do you like my solution for our main characters' problem? The matter of differing saxon and Norman inheritance customs is something I discovered years ago during a little light reading on medieval law ;-) I find it really amusing that people in the dark ages were more enlightened then people several hundred years later, and decided I had to include this matter in this series.
By the way, in case you are wondering about the exact meaning of the term Patrilineal Primogeniture—it is a patriarchal system of inheritance in which only the oldest male heir can inherit, even if he is not a direct descendant of the deceased party. If, for example, a lord who has only daughters dies, and he has a living nephew, then the nephew would inherit.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob