“I can hold off seizure for another three, maybe four months. I’m sure you’ve learned many lessons in your travels, but it is now time to come home, marry well, and take your place in society.”
I’m not surprised by his speech in the slightest. He’s been saying some combination of those words for a while now, which is why I ignored his first several attempts to contact me. He loves to insist on the importance of the Middleton family name, our bloodline, and the land.
“How did our tax accounts get to be so far in arrears?” I ask, sidestepping the annoyance building in my chest.
“The land does not produce as it once did, and corporate farming and agriculture have done the rest.”
I nod, tapping my fingertips on the polished wood. It’s on the tip of my tongue to enquire about his Saudi funds, but I can’t find it in me to care. It is, however, interesting that we are not having this conversation in his office. If I had to guess, his ego cannot take this discussion in the space where he is supposed to be king of his domain. He has so very clearly mismanaged things, perhaps he cannot browbeat me in the place in which he has been most ineffective.
“What about Robert? Where is he in this discussion?” I ask of my older brother.
“Robert has his own issues to deal with. Gwendolyn is pregnant again, and his finances are tied to her estate. I do not wish to engage the Edringtons in our personal affairs. Besides, he’s already holding down the family. It’s your turn to contribute.”
I hold back a smile. It is no accident that Robert’s finances are so closely tied to the Edringtons’ accounts, or that he removed his name from the estate’s trust once he married Gwendolyn. Her family wanted the peerage, our family needed someone with their own money, and the two had been put together since they were teenagers.
Knowing that they were pawns, Robert and Gwendolyn somehow managed to outmaneuver everyone by falling in love. Robert insisted that she keep her inheritance separate, and he listened to the advice from Beatrice that our father ignored. Their estate is profitable—and separate from ours.
Good on them.
“If Robert’s having a third child, why do I have to produce an heir?” I ask, knowing his answer.
“It is a tradition, steeped in preserving our way of life. This estate.”
“If we are unable to preserve this way of life under our own steam, why should it be preserved?”
“I will not engage in a battle of words with you at this time,” my father says, straightening his back. “You have benefited from being raised in this environment. How can you not give back now that you owe your comfort to our generosity?”
“Father, I am eternally grateful for the opportunities I’ve had as a result of my raising and my family connections, and I’ve taken those lucky circumstances and paid them forward to provide connections and support to others.”
“Yes, at our expense. And now we are asking you to pay the bill.”
“Father, you know that I take nothing from the estate. Nor will I.”
“You’re not actually self-financed if you’re using your trust,” he commented coldly.
“Father, I have never once touched my trust. I knew that to do so would behold me to you, and that was a position I would never find myself in. So, from a very early age, I have been responsible for my own finances. Did I use my connections? Absolutely. But never once have I used a single penny of my family’s wealth.”
This stops my father in his tracks. He blinks slowly. “Your trust is intact?”
“Fully. I’ve moved the finances into smarter investments, and the interest from those investments funds my charitable works. But the trust itself has not been touched.”
“So you’re saying that you have the means by which to save this family, and you’ve been holding it back this whole time?”
“Father, I will not risk my charitable endeavors in the hopes that you won’t mismanage my trust as you have the estate’s finances and, I imagine, Robert’s trust.”
Straightening his tie, Father sneers as though I’m some foolish boy. “I have done what all of my forefathers have done before me.”
“And that is why you’re failing.”
“Elucidate, then, dear son, how I might have done better,” he responds, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“You could have listened to your daughter’s advice.”
“House tours? Weddings? Absolutely not.”
“The estate would be flush with cash, Father, our taxes would be paid, and we could have avoided this entire embarrassing situation.”
“Son, you well know that we cannot break with tradition.”
