X - Lineage

Part 1

I have described before that the house I lived in was passed down through my family. But I have also stated that my mother and sister lived in another part of the country in what Geoffrey calls my “hometown”. Both statements are true. My father, being the industrial mogul that he was, was frequently abroad or away and tended little to his children. His brother, my uncle, owned this house and all the family heirlooms within, keeping them safe for when the home would pass from his generation to the next. The home was to be auctioned off between me, being the eldest of my father’s children, and my cousins Rufus and Maxwell. Rufus being the eldest of my uncle’s children, and Maxwell being the eldest of my aunt’s, my father’s sister, children. However, as luck or fate would have it, the contest would slowly dwindle from three sons, to two, when Rufus, ten years my senior, would die in armed conflict during the Boer War. Then, with another brush of fate, it would go from two to one, when Maxwell, five years my senior, would die from self-inflicted wounds owing to a brain fever he suffered from.

                This same brain fever, a common occurrence in my father’s line, would also take the lives of my uncle, when he committed self-murder to rid himself of the pain. And my aunt, instead of taking to the gun, or malicious self-neglect, took to laudanum to ease her brain storms. She would succumb to the concoction on my twenty fifth birthday. Thus, with no heirs left, and no contest left to wage, I was the sole recipient of the ancient home. I moved in three days after my twenty-sixth birthday with my friend Geoffrey. Both of us had been living in proximity to the house, owing to my knowledge that I would soon possess it, once all the legal forms were finalized.

                I met Geoffrey in university. We both took quickly to each other being rivals at first, vying for the top spot in our classes then turning that rivalry into a strong friendship. We juggled the top spots between each other and kept the others at bay with our ferocity. It was only natural that I would keep him along with me. So, upon hearing that my inheritance of the stately house would be finalized, I moved him in with me. It could not have been a better situation. The house long paid for and up-kept by a society that my uncle was involved with, meant there was little left to do but simply enjoy the spoils of my lineage.

                My father, before his passing a year ago to the same brain fever that captured his siblings, visited the house once between his trips abroad and back to visit my mother and sister. He took me aside and gave me one quick piece of advice. At the time I didn’t understand his meaning.

                “This place, it has memories my boy. Don’t let them infect you.”

                At hearing these final spoken words from him I was unsure what to make of them. Knowing now that he was simply expressing some archaic delusion formed by his brain fever, I can safely shrug it off. I have been the lucky one it seems regarding that fatal illness. I remember chatter amongst my family about the others who had succumbed, about how they started to shew signs of the malady around the age of twenty-five. A sluggishness, a slurry of the speech, and an almost imperceptible twitch of the involuntary muscles. This lack of symptoms on my part from my twenty-fifth to my current age of twenty-nine, reassured me that I was spared the disease.

                All my connections to that now almost defunct line, had only awarded me positive gains and none of the downsides. And now, with my new pact, I would be giving my new lineage an inheritance of spoils so rich that I can’t even begin to describe them. And even if I were to originally succumb to the same malady, I now would be immune. No illness would beset me. No fever would taunt my senses.

                I had reserves of wealth, tucked away in the halls of the statehouse secret even now to Geoffrey and even my sister. So much in reserve I thought, in passing, that I might even give them a dowry for the wedding, but it would be a hollow gesture. Seeing as how the wedding wouldn’t even take place. And showing my hand of the wealth I kept could make unworthy eyes pry upon this place.

                Since my family, my father’s line anyway, kept to itself and did most of its dealing abroad or in quiet, not many people knew that we were indeed a wealthy family. My sister and mother had inklings of course. Not many could afford a home such as they lived on the western cliff sides. But they did not know the hidden wealth upon which I sat at that very moment. They might have seen a glimpse of it had I needed to open my own personal purse to help fund and prepare for the wedding. As it stands, it would remain a secret with me, and I alone would hold the keys to the hidden treasures.

                I went about writing my speech, as I said I would for my sister and new brother. I fetched new clothes paying only slightly better than I would normally. And I set about improving only some aspects of the ceremony. I did what I felt was prudent as my position being the one to give away my sister. Days ticked away, and I was quietly bidding my time. The opportune moment would arise, and I would be ready for it.

                After penning the speech, I deigned to give, I retrieved the blade I had used on the tramps in my town, the number of deceased now ranked double what it was a week ago, and decided to sharpen it. In the metal I could see my face faintly. Behind my shoulder I saw two red specks; I smiled at them.

                “The time is almost upon us.” I whispered, putting the blade back into my desk. A shiver of excitement ran through my body as I stood in front of my mirror. I looked fresher, more stoic and reserved than I ever had. A calm confidence shown on my face. I saw my father in my face at that moment. I winced at the realization or perhaps it was a particulate in my eye. I did not wish to be my father, or my uncle, or my grandfather. I would be my own patriarch. I would be my own man. A powerful man. One that would not succumb to such feeble things as a mere brain fever.

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