Page 23 of Claiming the Tower
Mrs Brown unbent slightly at that. “Indeed, Mistress. May I ask where you’d like to begin?” Twenty minutes later, Bess had been given a thorough tour of the relevant rooms. The dining room and sitting room on the first floor were rarely used— normally only if Hereswith’s brothers or their wives and children were visiting. The library, of course, every day, and the bedrooms. Mrs Brown also brought her downstairs, briefly, to introduce her to Cook and the rest of the staff, then brought her back up to the library. In each room and in the hallways, Mrs Brown made a point of indicating the bell pulls and the other precautions.
It was thus only once they were in the library that Bess cleared her throat. “I’ve two questions, I believe, and I’m sure you must have a few for me. May I ask what I should know about Master Rowan’s health? Mistress Rowan— she’s given me permission to call her Hereswith— said you have been with the family since she was young.”
“Just after her poor mother died, yes, mistress.” Mrs Brown considered, though she didn’t relax so far as to sit. “Master Rowan’s sons were grown men by then, of course, their mother having died. I didn’t know her, of course, but she saw to much of the renovation and decoration of the public rooms on this floor.” That explained a great deal about the style, and some features Bess had noted. The charmwork had been improved in a number of places, but few of the decorative details had changed. On the other hand, the original style suited the house and had not been faddishly done.
“It’s always so good to have someone who knows a house that well, and the family.” Bess agreed. “And who understands how it’s changed.”
“Master Rowan used to entertain more, but we’ve been a quieter household than some. Family, generally, not larger groups of guests. Both Master Rowan and Mistress Rowan have kept things more quiet, the last decade or so. Mistress Rowan says it’s a relief not to entertain here, since she does so much of it as part of her work.”
There was no way Bess could think of to inquire what the staff thought of that work. It could be a point of pride, of irritation, or dozens of other options. Bess was clear that Hereswith didn’t need to work, not like that. There was family money, rather obviously. But she also understood that Hereswith enjoyed what she did, was skilled at it, and also that she felt it did something worth doing in the world. Even if that had, perhaps, been a trifle more frustrating the last few weeks than previously. Instead, she took a breath and asked the first key question. “And Master Rowan’s health, what should I know about that?”
“Ah, he’s an older man, of course. Mistress Rowan was born when he was, oh, near enough sixty.” That put him in his late nineties, then, older than she’d realised. “It’s no one thing, Mistress. The frailties of age, he tires easily and cannot stand for long. His Healer comes out each month, and promptly, of course, if there’s any concern.” Their man of business called weekly. The solicitor came fortnightly, leaving a junior clerk for the afternoon to tend to any formal correspondence. It seemed an extremely smooth system, all the ordinary needs planned for. Bess wondered how much of that was Hereswith’s work, as opposed to someone else’s idea. Or, for that matter, how much of it she’d learned from her father.
“And the household schedule?” That got her an excellent summary of the rest of it. Hereswith herself was in and out at odd hours. She had ordinary days, Ministry hours, when she was in Trellech, and other days when she was in London until late in the evening. Rarely more than one or two in any given week, but she spent at least half her Saturdays and Sundays there, to make a proper show at social events. The rest of the household went on whether or not she was present. Cook kept to a regular cycle of Master Rowan’s favourite meals as a general rule, but with an eye to Hereswith’s preferences or guests as needed.
“And, of course, mistress, if either Mistress Rowan or yourself needs a bite in the later evening, we’re glad to provide.”
“Generously, yes, from my experience so far.” Bess offered it with a smile.
“May I ask, mistress, if you have any particular preferences or foods you must avoid?” Mrs Brown put it delicately, and Bess now had to think of how to answer. She had not had that question at Madam Judson’s, nor at her previous employers.
“Ah, that’s a mark of how well the household is put together that you ask.” Bess tried to keep her tone light of it. “I’ve not had the space to enjoy much in the way of preferences. What you’ve offered has been delightful, though.”
“Mistress Rowan mentioned you like drinking chocolate. We haven’t been keeping it in the house, but I’ll be adding some for the kitchen when I do the shopping in Trellech. Mistress Rowan’s instructions, of course. But if there’s a tea you like, we get ours at Billings and Sons. We’ll be shopping there again on Wednesday.”
“Perhaps there might be a list of their current offerings, and which the household already stocks?” Bess suggested it a little uncertainly. What they already bought would give her an idea of the pricing, at least.
“I’ll bring one home this evening, mistress.” It also got her a list of what was always on offer, because it was on the regular shopping. By the time Master Rowan was ready in the library, Bess felt she had as good an introduction to the house as she could hope for. Now it was time to see how she got on with Hereswith’s father.
Once Mr Hargrave, the valet, left her alone in the library, saying he’d be sorting out some things in the bedroom next door, Master Rowan gestured for her to come sit down on the other side of his desk. “Now, Hereswith says you’re a clever woman.”
“I’m glad she thinks so, sir, but I’ve told her I’m afraid I know very little about your particular areas of interest. I’m delighted to learn, of course, so long as you don’t mind me being an utter beginner.”
Master Rowan might be quite elderly, but his mind was still sharp. He chuckled. “Ah, well. Perhaps I might begin with an overview, and then set you to reading while I nap.” He lifted a few fingers from the desk. “First, a question or two. And then some additional questions, to determine what you already do and do not know.”
“Yes, sir.” Bess set her notebook to one side, and her hands in her lap. What followed was a rather attentive set of inquiries into her family and background. She was far more forthcoming than she usually was, certainly on such short acquaintance. He made it easy to answer, as if his explorations of history had made him more understanding of the smaller foibles of man and woman, rather than above it all.
Bess found herself explaining her history, things she’d touched on with Hereswith in the course of their conversations, but not put together quite like this. How her parents had had a financial reversal as she finished her Schola education, and hadn’t had the connections to find her a good apprenticeship. She’d learned from aunts, but being a companion was a more acceptable choice than being a housekeeper somewhere. And by the time her parents had died, leaving her with even fewer options, her yearmates were finishing apprenticeships and at a different stage in their lives. She’d made her way ever since, though she had little to show for it.
When she’d come to a rather edited version of her experience with Madam Judson, Master Rowan had nodded once. “I suspect you’ll find me easier to deal with. I can’t manage the energy to be that kind of difficult, at any rate. Now, what do you know about the Anglo-Saxons?”
That was a rather more intense probing of her existing knowledge. She didn’t have as much as she wanted. She knew the names of the major kingdoms, of course, and a handful of people. That conversation took perhaps twice as long as her own history, though she admitted ignorance about one sentence in four. Finally, Master Rowan nodded. “I shall have a nap. You find a book—” He considered, then reached for a pencil, writing out a name on a piece of paper. “There’s a biography. She was queen of Mercia, and I think you might rather like her history, what we know of it. Start reading there.”
“Not an overview, sir?” Bess had expected the sort of book that was read in school. Perhaps some sort of overview that spent a sentence or three on dozens of different figures.
“We will come to that. I think you might do best starting with someone specific, and working forward and back from that point. We shall try it.” His eyes twinkled. “Also, Hereswith is quite fond of Æthelflæd. Not as fond as she is of her namesake and of Hild, but that’s understandable. It will give you something to talk about in the evenings if you run out of other topics.”
Bess ducked her chin at that. “Of course you know your daughter’s interests well, sir. I’m glad you and she have that in common. Do you need a hand to the chaise or somewhere more comfortable?”
He did, and she offered her arm. He was slow to move, and frail, as she had her arm around him, carefully. But he was managing his own weight and movement, given that. Frail, but managing, that was a good way to put it. She got him settled with a blanket and a book, before going to find the one he’d indicated. It was a slender volume, bound to the library’s colours. Bess claimed a chair where she could look across at the chaise comfortably and settled in to read.
The book itself was fascinating, so much so that she was deeply immersed in it when she heard Master Rowan chuckling. She looked up, flushing that she’d missed the smaller sounds of him waking, to find him waving a hand. “Good choice, then? If you’d get Hargrave to come in, I shall have luncheon, we shall talk, and see how long I make it before requiring another nap.”
Bess smiled and went to make that happen. This position might, in fact, be entirely enjoyable in the main.
Chapter 17
Evening of June 27th
