The Blood Upon the Rose by Tim Vicary

not my family, and you . . . are.’
    She turned to face him. ‘I see. You think I don't deserve to inherit?’
    She was tall, and the lift of her chin made her, though she did not know it, both desirable and terrifying to most young men. To her father, the look reminded him of his wife, as she had been when he loved her. Before she had become ill, and mad, and impossible to live with. Before he had left her for the comfort of Sarah Maidment. Catherine looked to him like Maeve's ghost, come back to haunt him.
    ‘You never expected to become a great heiress, and you never would have done if your brothers had not given their lives for their country. You would not have been poor, but …’
    ‘Land-owning is for men?’
    ‘Yes.’ They looked at each other coldly. He thought how like Catherine's eyes were to her mother's - dark, passionate,compelling. But there was a determination in them too, a strength that Maeve had never had. There was something in them that he saw in the mirror each morning. It unsettled him.
    After a long pause he said: ‘The fact remains that you are flesh of my flesh. Our family has owned Killrath for three centuries, and this house for half that time. That stability is the whole basis of this country.’
    ‘Still?’
    ‘Still.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I know you have other ideas, but I hope and pray they will change. Listen, my dear. I want to make a bargain with you.’
    It had been a great surprise. For the last year of her mother's life, Catherine and her father had scarcely spoken. She blamed him so much for her mother's death; she did not think he could care for her at all. When the interview had begun, she had been prepared to be disinherited entirely.
    ‘I will not marry Sarah, and I will settle the whole estate on you, on three conditions.’
    ‘I see. And what are they?’
    ‘One: that you help me restore this house, and reside in it for at least half the year. That should not be too hard.’
    She looked around the desolate room. ‘No. Just wearisome. But worthwhile, I suppose.’
    ‘I'm glad you think so. Second: that you run the Killrath estate in trust for your own children. It will not be yours to sell off in bits and pieces for some mad revolutionary cause. I will not have that. You have the whole thing, or none.’
    ‘It seems you want me to have none of it. Is that legal?’
    ‘I can make it so.’
    ‘And the third condition ?’
    ‘That you marry a man of my choice.’
    ‘What? Father, that's absurd!’
    ‘It is not. It is the system that has prevailed for hundreds of generations, and it is a good one, particularly where large estates are concerned. You will need a man to help you, and he should be someone born to the task. I am not a fool, you know - I won't choose a monster.’
    ‘No? Father, you're a monster yourself!’ She walked across the room, and her mocking laughter echoed from the bare walls. It sounded hysterical; but then, it was a mad situation. ‘You can't just use me to breed, like one of your mares! I'm a woman, you know, a person in my own right! It's a new century, those ideas are gone. I can even vote - do you know that?’
    ‘Not until you're thirty. By then, you may have changed your ideas. If so, I can change my will.’
    ‘And my career? My studies at UCD?’ At the time of the conversation she had only just got her place. It was the one thing she had fought for, all those years alone at Killrath. Her career was like a beacon in a storm to her. Something that would give her light to understand the physical side of her mother's illness; and the independence to ensure that such a mental collapse would never happen to her.
    ‘I don't object to that. Though you might be better advised to study economics than medicine. In a way, I . . . I suppose it is an achievement for a young woman to think of such study at all.’
    She stared at him. With a shock, she realized there was a hopeful, slightly appealing look in his eye. He really meant