Rise, Lucy, Lady Downs

"And in so recognizing my paternity," Augustus Henshawe continued reading Jeremy Netherwood's unsealed provisions. "I provide for Lucy her portion by birthright."

Augustus Henshawe cleared his throat. Clarissa Netherwood fidgeted with her cameo pendant. Edmund Netherwood looked out of the dim, rain-streaked window.

"While Netherwood's ancestral lands and title, are governed under a covenant of male primogeniture, and thus go to Edmund and his line, the estate of Downs Edge and its baronetcy are under a covenant of strict primogeniture. By the attached signs and the royal seal, here witness that Lucy Longbottom, senior of my natural issue, is created Lady Downs, mistress of Downs Edge, its lands and assigns."

Lucy stared in bewilderment. The estate of Downs Edge, the finer and better home of the Netherwood family, was hers, and she was its mistress. Her head and body felt lighter than air, as if she would float up amongst the airships at the slightest disturbance.

There was a crackle and pop from Edmund's joints. He stared white-faced out the window. Downs Edge had been his home all his life, and since his father's , he had been master in all but name. Now it had been taken from him. He had the title, the seniority, and the preponderance of his father's lands, but the jewel had gone to his father's byblow, a servant all her life.

Lucy looked at Edmund with alarm. Had he known?

Clarissa sat, her cameo clenched in one hand, looking nowhere in particular.

"Lady Downs, are you feeling faint?" Augustus Henshawe asked. "Miss Longbottom?"

Lucy turned to him. "It's all a bit much," she said.

Augustus Henshawe pressed a stud recessed in the wainscoting. He frowned. "Bother," he said. "Electricity, spirit of the future, they said." He pulled on a thickly woven ribbon depending from a hole near the top of the wall, and a bell jangled not far distant.

"Madeira, Jenkins," Augustus Henshawe said to the clerk who popped his head in the door. The clerk quickly reappeared with a brass tray with four small glasses of wine. "Drink, Miss Longbottom," he said.

The wine warmed Lucy's insides. Edmund tossed his glass back. Clarissa and Augustus Henshawe left theirs untouched.

A clock chimed the hour.

"Your pardon, Lady Downs, Lady Netherwood, Lord Netherwood," Augustus Henshawe said. "I must attend to a brief appointment. If you have further questions, I can rejoin you on the half hour. Jenkins can attend you in the meantime."

The stout, mustachioed solicitor stood and bowed to the ladies, then left the back office.

Lucy, Clarissa, and Edmund eyed one another. Clarissa held her cool green eyes on Lucy, almost the same gaze that her mother-in-law Catherine had mastered. Edmund glared, his nostrils flaring. He had the look which often preceded a demand for Lucy to enter a closet, raise her skirts and bend forward to receive his prick and slake one of his frequent lustful impulses. Truthfully, he was often much better disposed afterward. If Clarissa hadn't been there, Lucy thought, perhaps it would be the thing to do.

Lucy held her breath, wanting to say something but not quite daring.