Love's Labor's Won (43 page)

“The king has declared that contracts are to remain untouched,” Mister Darnel said. “But you have declared them invalid.”

“Yes,” Emily said, flatly. She took a moment to catch her temper. Changing them into toads — would anyone notice the difference? — would not help. “However, I believe the king has yet to rule on this specific case.”

She gritted her teeth in frustration. King Randor’s father, if she recalled correctly, had wanted to use contract law to keep the barons under control. It hadn’t worked very well, as the coup proved, yet...she hadn’t expected to put her foot so firmly on a landmine when she’d started to rewrite the laws. The king could support her, which would call contract law into question, or undermine her. If the latter...she would leave, and the other barons would be emboldened to plot again.

“That is true, your ladyship,” Mister Darnel said. “But legally, your law and the king’s law cannot conflict.”

“Which would insist the contract be enforced,” Emily growled.

“Yes, your ladyship,” Mister Darnel said. “Any future contracts could not infringe your law — and no one would complain about that — but signed contracts cannot be put aside on a whim.”

Emily forced herself, firmly, not to say the first thing that came to mind. No one had said
that
to Baron Holyoake — at least, they had never said it
twice
— and yet they were prepared to say it to
her
? But Baron Holyoake hadn’t been interested in his subjects, save for what tax he could extort from them. If they’d wanted to kill themselves in the streets, or turn into bandits, he wouldn’t have given a damn.

“And so we must appeal to you,” Mister Darnel said. “The contracts must be upheld.”

“Tell me,” Emily said, looking at the two Freeholders. “Do your children actually
want
to get married?”

“They have always known they
would
get married,” Jack said. “There was never any question of them liking anyone else.”

Emily supposed that made sense. If they’d grown up together in a tiny village, there would have been fewer partners than if they had grown up in a city...and fewer chances to stray, too. And if they’d known they were going to get married, one day, they might not have been looking for anyone else. And yet...

“If the girl is thirteen, the marriage can wait three more years,” Emily said. “If, of course, she actually wishes to marry your son.”

“There is no one else for her,” Muick said. “And I do not wish to lose the farm.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you lose the farm?”

“If I die, with my daughter unmarried,” Muick explained, “the farm will pass to my uncle’s descendants. My daughter will remain an old maid for the rest of her life, while he takes my farm and uses it as he sees fit. This contract is her only hope of retaining the farm.”

And are you saying that because you think it is her only hope
, Emily asked silently,
or because you think it will influence me
?

She took a moment to compose herself. “And why can’t your daughter inherit the farm in her own right?”

“She is a
girl
,” Muick said, as if that explained everything.

“So am I,” Emily said, simply.

Muick paled, but stood his ground. “You have magic, my lady,” he said. “My daughter has nothing but a farm she cannot run in her own name. Should she be married when I die, the farm will continue and be managed in her husband’s name; should she be unmarried, the farm will go to my uncles or one of their descendants. They will find her an inconvenience.”

And kill her
, Emily thought,
if they can’t beat her into submission
.

She took a long breath, trying to recall what she’d read about land rights. Property rights were different — a woman could own her own property — but land always had to stay in the male line. Indeed, Jack and Muick were bending the law by marrying their children; arguably, Jack’s son wasn’t part of the male line. But he would be a man, married to the former owner’s daughter, and in possession. And possession was nine-tenths of the law.

Not here
, she reminded herself.
The law is what the aristocracy says it is
.

“I do not approve, now or ever, of allowing children to be married off before they can consent to the match,” she said. “Nor—” she held up a hand as they took a deep breath “—do I approve of people marrying before they reach a certain age. I could, however, offer a compromise. In the event of you dying before your daughter is married, the land would stay in her name.”

Mister Darnel twitched uncomfortably. “My lady,” he said. “If you changed the laws concerning land rights, even for one farm alone, there would be trouble.”

He was right, Emily knew. The fabric of inheritance law, no matter how unfair or sexist she considered it to be, would start to unravel. There were certainties written into the old laws, certainties that she should not alter without a very good reason. But while she thought she had a good reason, she knew that others would not feel the same way.

She considered other options, rapidly. It would be easy enough to gift the daughter a small sum of money, enough to ensure she could support herself if her relatives kicked her off the farm. Or she could arrange for the daughter to be offered a job at the castle or in one of the growing industries. Or...for all she knew, the daughter would turn sixteen and marry Jack’s son before anything happened to her father.

But if her relatives want the farm
, she thought,
they could murder the father and claim it, legally
.

It would be simple enough to change the law, she was sure, so unborn generations of women would have the same land rights as men. But it wouldn’t help the current generation...

“I can offer another suggestion,” she said, after a moment. “If they are betrothed, the land can go to Jack’s son, if you die before your daughter is old enough to wed. He will keep the land as long as he marries her within a year of her turning sixteen, then merge the two farms as you planned. If he chooses otherwise, or she decides not to marry him, the land will revert to her.”

“As she will effectively be a divorcée,” Mister Darnel said, slowly. “I do not know how that will hold up in a court of law.”

“But it might,” Emily said. “Particularly if you talked up the inheritance rights.”

She smiled, although she knew it might not endure. On one hand, the daughter was a woman and therefore legally barred from holding land rights; on the other hand, she had the right to keep her dowry, which
included
the land rights. Anyone who wanted to take the lands, because she was a woman, would have to find a way to appease farmers who would be suspicious of setting a dangerous precedent. And their wives would be furious.

And maybe they would force their husbands to defend her
, she thought.
And turn their world upside down
.

“I would like to stay with the original contract,” Muick said, stubbornly. “It is the only way to protect my daughter.”

Emily ignored him. “How many other contracts are there with similar provisions?”

“I know of thirty-seven,” Mister Clermont said. “Some of them have been scrapped, as the parties involved took advantage of this opportunity to change their minds. Others are still in force, but the actual marriages are several years off.”

And how many
, Emily asked herself silently,
were enacted without anyone knowing about it
?

It was a chilling thought. On Earth, it had been easy to get news from right around the world; everything was instant, everything was immediate. But the Nameless World had fewer methods of instant communication — she thought briefly of the parchment in her pocket — and it could be months or years before news spread from village to village. It was easy to imagine all sorts of horrors, only a few miles from her castle, passing completely unnoticed by her.

“Then we will offer similar provisions for such marriages,” Emily said. It was a compromise, and not one she was comfortable with, but she had a feeling that things couldn’t be pushed much further. “It will cushion the effect of the laws.”

“But still call the king’s law into question,” Mister Darnel said. “I would fancy the matter should be put before the king.”

“You may do so, if you wish,” Emily said. It would be a brave man who tried, even if Emily
hadn’t
butchered countless people for daring to have ambitions of their own. King Randor could jump either way. “However, I have no intention of returning the law to its previous state.”

“Your decision is understandable,” Mister Clermont said.

Emily looked at Jack, then at Muick. “Is this acceptable to you?”

“It is,” Jack said.

“If there are protections for my daughter, then it is acceptable to me,” Muick said, after a moment. “That is all I ask.”

“I will have new contracts drawn up, then infused with magic,” Emily said. Buying
Manaskol
would be expensive, but it was well to have a supply of her own on hand. If nothing else, Mountaintop had taught her how to design her own magically-binding contracts that could be applied to anyone. “You will be bound to honor your word.”

“That would be suitable, Your Ladyship,” Muick said.

“Thank you,” Emily said, dryly. “I will have the contracts drawn up, then you will be summoned to sign them.”

She called for Bryon and had the four men shown out, then picked up a piece of paper and started to write out a basic contract. Zed had taught her that the more complex the contract, the more magic it took to enact the terms; she’d need to have Bryon and Imaiqah look at it before she wrote it out again, using
Manaskol
. The fewer loopholes she left in, by accident, the better.

“You handled that well, my lady,” Bryon said.

Emily looked up. Bryon had returned to the Great Hall.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she said.
Perfect
would have involved everyone agreeing that she was right, but nothing short of compulsion spells would achieve that. “There were just too many tangled issues.”

“That is true, but you managed to satisfy them,” Bryon said. “I do not think you could have handled it in any other way without betraying your principles.”

“I’ve compromised,” Emily said.

She shook her head. Compromise was one thing when it involved her, but quite another when it involved people she had never met. She would probably
never
meet any of the others involved in the whole affair, yet she’d meddled quite freely with their lives. And if she’d screwed up, she might have
ruined
their lives...

“I trust that preparations for dinner are well underway,” she said, instead. “There will definitely be a dance tonight.”

“The cooks are getting the meal ready now,” Bryon assured her. “There’s still three hours to go before dinnertime. Everything should be fine.”

“Then I will go to my rooms until food is served,” Emily said. She rose, feeling her back aching from sitting on the solid chair. “Call me if there’s an emergency, but nothing else.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship,” Bryon said.

Emily nodded, and walked towards the stairs, thinking hard. It was impossible to tell if she had done the right thing. The contract — the original contract — had been grossly immoral by her standards, but she was uneasily aware that the locals thought nothing of it. And, if Muick had been telling the truth, the contract was the only protection his daughter had. Emily knew, all too well, just how easily family could turn on family, particularly if there was money involved.

I suppose I will have to wait and see
, she thought, tiredly. There was just time for a nap, if she used a spell to ensure she woke for dinner, after she had channeled yet more power into the battery.
Tomorrow will come soon enough.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“M
Y GREAT-GRANDDAUGHTER IS LOOKING FORWARD TO
her wedding,” Fulvia said, as the servants cleared away the tables so the dancers could move onto the floor. “It was kind of you to allow us to use the Great Hall.”

Emily sighed, inwardly. Two days had passed, two days during which the tension had kept rising, with the families sniping and snarling at each other. Two days when she had seriously considered ordering both families out of her castle, even though they would only take the dispute down to the Faire. Two days...

And two days until the wedding
, she thought, sourly.
And if they don’t come up with a plan before then...I don’t know what I’ll do
.

“I’m sure she is,” Emily said, neutrally.

She cursed under her breath as the band started to play a lively jig. Lady Barb had sent a short note, warning that she wouldn’t be back for at least another week, while Sergeant Miles had sent a note of his own, stating that he would be unavoidably delayed. Emily had hoped — prayed — that one of them would reach the castle before the wedding, if only so she could beg for advice before it all hit the fan. What did it matter if she spent every free moment of next year in detention when two feuding families could rip apart her castle and kill hundreds of people in the crossfire?

“But she has been quite definitely avoiding her family,” Fulvia added, breaking into Emily’s thoughts and fears. “Is that normal for a girl?”

“How did you feel,” Emily asked, “when
you
were getting married?”

“Satisfied,” Fulvia said. “I had finally found my niche in life.”

Emily frowned, inwardly. On the face of it, the answer was outrageously sexist, as if a woman was fit to be nothing more than a wife and mother. And yet...no amount of browsing the records had turned up an answer to the question of Fulvia’s origins. Had she actually been born an Ashworth? If she hadn’t, she might have had
very
good reason to be satisfied when she’d married the former Patriarch. She would have moved from near-obscurity, like Gaius, to the very center of magical life.