“Be that as it may… I want to know what your designs for your inheritance are. As you’re aware, you’ll receive it on your 30th birthday, assuming that you’ve fulfilled your grandparents’ criteria. You’re 26 years old now. What are you doing until then?”
I was taken slightly aback by the question, but I drank from my glass and answered anyway.
“Seeing as I’ve done nothing to diminish the family name, not that they’re aware of, at any rate, I’m certain that I’ll be–”
“The whoring around?” He cut in, questioningly. I knew that he meant it as an innocent question, and not an insult.
“–Yes, they’re none the wiser. This leaves my place of standing in society, and my higher education. It would appear that things lined up properly. Eight years in the marines, a veteran of the Iraq War, and now four years of college until I obtain my degree. All of that, just in time to have my 30th birthday and win my birthright – the birthright that should have been yours.”
“So that’s the plan, then? No surprises?”
I felt suddenly compelled to mention Clara, but banished the thought. Why on earth would I do something as stupid as that?
“If there are any surprises, they’ll be as much to you as they are to me,” I replied coolly, taking another sip of whiskey before the ice began to melt in earnest. “Being preoccupied with these things means that I wouldn’t have the time to get into too much trouble.”
“Wise choice,” he nodded approvingly. “What are you pursing for your degree?”
“Haven’t quite decided,” I mused aloud. “I’d like to say something practical, just in case I manage to piss off my grandparents before the inheritance kicks in… but honestly, I’m thinking something easy. I think I’ve got this in the bag.”
My father took a deep swig, watching me carefully over the tip of his beer. “You realize, of course, that dearest Mum and Dad have incredibly high standards... what makes you so sure?”
“Simple,” I shrugged. “The worst thing I’ve done is fuck a lot of women, a detail that they won’t ever need to know. They’ve already accepted my Marine career as meeting their needs. School is literally all I have left to do… that, and bide my time.”
“And what will you do with all that money?” He asked curiously, clicking his fingers to request another beer for himself. “What happens when you earn your birthright?”
“I give you yours, and I travel the world.”
“No, son, my time’s passed,” he shook his head. “That’s all yours. I have enough money to live happily. I can retire in ten years and call that that until the end of my days.”
“Yeah, but Dad… you shouldn’t have had to work,” I countered.
“Originally, no,” he conceded. “But I made do. I made my own way in the world, without their support or their money.”
“And where has that gotten you?” I asked, growing weary of his tone.
“Happy,” he explained. “Once I understood the ramifications of losing the inheritance, it was just William Carlyle versus the world. I made do. I survived. Nay, I persevered. And from that perseverance came my life now, with this wonderful woman, a well-paying job, and a son who has proven me proud.”
“I don’t think I understand where you’re going with this,” I stated bluntly, taking another deep swig of the whiskey.
Father sighed tiredly. “You’ve always been so focused on the bloody money. Every major decision you’ve ever made has included your grandparents. Your entire life since adolescence has been run by their expectations. Don’t you wish you had freedom? Don’t you want to know who you are without that in your future?”
“I can have my freedom when it’s mine,” I grumbled through gritted teeth. “When I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life.”
“That’s not technically true,” he replied.
“Excuse me?”
My father paused, choosing his words carefully. “You realize that there are stipulations, right? Ways to lose access to the Carlyle Fortune?”
I didn’t know that, and my stunned expression seemed to convey the point.
“What, did you really think that you could play the game and just wait out the clock?” He chuckled condescendingly, with a heavy shake of his head. “Don’t be stupid, boy. The inheritance has passed down the family line for generations. How, do you think, it has managed to keep itself together, instead of being completely blown on the first gluttonous maniac to wield it?”
Anger started to boil up inside me.
Why am I hearing about this NOW?
Father watched my reaction for a few seconds before he continued. “I’m not surprised that they didn’t explain that part to you. If I’d known, I would have done so years ago… you can’t do whatever you want with the money. That’s foolhardy, and it compromises the succession. You can only use so much of it a year, and you have to inject some money back into it. That’s how they’ve held onto it all these years.”
“But what about their extravagant lifestyle?”
“Extravagant lifestyle?” Dad laughed riotously. “You must not know your grandparents well. They barely spend any of that godforsaken money. They’re always obsessing over keeping their little dignified nest egg safe – particularly your grandfather.”
“What about the house? The servants?” I asked, thinking about the prized Carlyle Manor, high in the hills.
“The house is part of the inheritance, and the servants are paid out of the interest earned by the family investments,” Dad shook his head. “I’m quite flabbergasted that you didn’t know all of this.”
“Your parents are somewhat lax on the details, it would appear,” I bitterly remarked.
This wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to just inherit a vast sum of money and cruise on it for the rest of my days. I wished I had been allowed to discuss it with my father – he might have filled me in on some of the details if I had bothered to ask. However, Raleigh Carlyle was very specific in that I should only talk to them if I wanted to know more… and I hadn’t wanted to come off as too eager.
They didn’t exactly favor eagerness, when it came to inheriting their wealth.
“There are responsibilities; inherit the Carlyle Fortune, and you’ll find yourself caught between the binding chains of succession. To fail to meet the ongoing criteria is to forfeit the fortune to the next in succession – and to be legally barred from ever receiving any of it, unless you want to risk their birthright to it as well.”
“This is bullshit,” I grumbled furiously.
I’d planned for the contingency, but if what he was telling me was true… then taking the money was to submit myself to a lifelong screening beneath their standards.
“Your ancestor, Reginald Carlyle, was very particular in his wishes,” Dad muttered. “His will was signed by the reigning King of England, and cannot be overturned by a successive will. His rules dictate when his wealth should be stripped of an inheritor and proceeded down the chain.”
“And what happens when there are no successors?” I angrily asked. “What if you drop dead and I never have a child? I’m the last Carlyle in the chain. Can I dictate where the chain goes next?”
“W
hat you have to remember about Reginald is that he became fiercely determined to restore the family name to glory, no matter the consequences,” Dad grunted. “Upon demise of the family name, the entire Carlyle Fortune returns to the Crown.”
“The monarchy takes it all,” I realized with horror. “If there’s no direct blood successor, it gets piled into the endless coffers of the King and Queen.”
“Precisely.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All of this was complete, utter bullshit. It had never really occurred to me that I’d ever turn down the Carlyle Fortune. The inheritance apparently came with a plethora of binding strings…
All those strings would be attached to me.
It’s not fair. This wasn’t the plan.
“So, did you just call me down here to rip away my dreams and send me back into the night, or was there some sort of ulterior motive to requesting my company?” I asked bitterly.
“Ah, yes,” Father remembered. “I hadn’t even meant to really broach that topic. But you will have all the time you need to question Raleigh Carlyle, so long as you act quickly…”
“What do you mean?”
“Your grandfather is growing old,” he replied, taking a final swig from his beer. “You can’t really tell, just looking at him, but his health is vastly deteriorating. According to Mum, he’s not expected to last the end of the year.”
“Granddad is dying?”
“He is, the old bastard,” Father nodded, his eyes lost straight ahead. “The two of them will be here in the States shortly. It’s likely that this will be your last chance to see him before he finally keels over and slides back down into whatever pit of Hell he first crawled out from.”
This was all a lot to process.
But I wasn’t prepared for the real bombshell.