Thorby looked guilty. “Uh, nothing.”
“It must be a worrisome nothing.”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Want to tell Leda?”
Thorby blinked. Weemsby’s daughter was the last one he could talk to. His gloom was caused by wonder as to what he could do if he became convinced that Rudbek was mixed up in slavery. “I guess I’m not cut out to be a businessman.”
“Why, Daddy says you have a surprising head for figures.”
Thorby snorted. “Then why doesn’t he –” He stopped.
“Why doesn’t he what?”
“Uh . . .” Doggone it, a man had to talk to somebody . . . someone who sympathized — or bawled him out if necessary. Like Pop. Like Fritz. Yeah, like Colonel Brisby. He was surrounded by people, yet utterly alone — except that Leda seemed to want to be friendly. “Leda, how much of what I say to you do you tell your father?”
To his amazement she blushed. “What made you say that, Thor?”
“Well, you are pretty close to him. Aren’t you?”
She stood up suddenly. “If you’ve finished, let’s walk.”
Thorby stood up. They strolled paths, watched the storm, listened to its soft noises against the dome. She guided them to a spot away from the house and shielded by bushes and there sat down on a boulder. “This is a good spot — for private conversation.”
“It is?”
“When the garden was wired, I made sure that there was somewhere I could be kissed without Daddy’s snoopers listening in.”
Thorby stared. “You mean that?”
“Surely you realize you are monitored almost everywhere but the ski slopes?”
“I didn’t. And I don’t like it”
“Who does? But it is a routine precaution with anything as big as Rudbek; you mustn’t blame Daddy. I just spent some credits to make sure the garden wasn’t as well wired as he thought So if you have anything to say you don’t want Daddy to hear, you can talk now. He’ll never know. That’s a cross-my-heart promise.”
Thorby hesitated, then checked the area. He decided that if a microphone were hidden nearby it must be disguised as a flower . . . which was possible. “Maybe I ought to save it for the ski slope.”
“Relax, dear. If you trust me at all, trust me that this place is safe.”
“Uh, all right” He found himself blurting out his frustrations . . . his conclusion that Uncle Jack was intentionally thwarting him unless he would turn over his potential power. Leda listened gravely. “That’s it. Now — am I crazy?”
She said, “Thor, you know that Daddy has been throwing me at you?”
“Huh?”
“I don’t see how you could miss it. Unless you are utterly — but then, perhaps you are. Just take it as true. It’s one of those obvious marriages that everyone is enthusiastic about . . . except maybe the two most concerned.”
Thorby forgot his worries in the face of this amazing statement “You mean . . . well, uh, that you –” He trailed off.
“Heavens, dear! If I intended to go through with it, would I have told you anything? Oh, I admit I promised, before you arrived, to consider it. But you never warmed to the idea — and I’m too proud to be willing under those circumstances even if the preservation of Rudbek depended on it Now what’s this about Daddy not letting you see the proxies that Martha and Creighton gave him?”
“They won’t let me see them; I won’t sign until they do.”
“But you’ll sign if they do?”
“Uh . . . maybe I will, eventually. But I want to see what arrangements my parents made.”
“I can’t see why Daddy opposes such a reasonable request. Unless . . .” She frowned.
“Unless what?”
“What about your shares? Have those been turned over to you?”
“What shares?”
“Why, yours. You know what shares I hold. They were given to me when I was born, by Rudbek — your grandfather, I mean. My uncle. You probably got twice as many, since you were expected to become the Rudbek someday.”
“I haven’t any shares.”
She nodded grimly. “That’s one reason Daddy and the Judge don’t want you to see those papers. Our personal shares don’t depend on anyone; they’re ours to do as we please with, since we are both legal age. Your parents voted yours, just as Daddy still votes mine — but any proxy they assigned concerning your shares can’t be any good now. You can pound the desk and they’ll have to cough up, or shoot you.” She frowned. “Not that they would shoot Thor, Daddy is a good sort, most ways.”