Page 3 of Claiming the Tower
Hereswith nodded. “Yes, of course. Here or at a cafe she likes. Or at home, if she’d rather be more sure of privacy. Would you let her know how to get in touch with me? I’m hoping to be at the Beltane gathering near home, too. But she’s from Norfolk, yes?”
“She is. I’ll let her know to write you here or at home, and that you’re glad to find the time. She was afraid of being presumptuous. I suspect that’s part of the current problem she’s facing.” Adelaide offered her a smile.
“Glad to. And thank you for reassuring her it wasn’t a problem to ask me.” There were times Hereswith had to say no to such things, simply because she couldn’t be in six places at the same time. But whenever she could, she wanted to lend a hand. Navigating bureaucracy— or worse, people who insisted there wasn’t one— was a particular skill. Many people could learn it, but not generally without some mentoring and assistance.
Here, Hereswith wondered if Eloise had run headlong into some pillar of the Ministry who insisted on doing things a particular way. Heaven help anyone who thought otherwise, in such cases. Learning to go around such obstructions was a key part of her work, but an often infuriating one. It wasted so much time and effort, entirely unnecessarily. No use fussing over it until she had more information. Hereswith took a breath and brought out her book.
Five minutes later, she had a pot of tea in front of her and one of the tiered tea plates. Hereswith let out a pleased sigh. Plenty of food, too, likely more than Hereswith would eat.
To her left, Bess moved a little, the sound of someone who wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be overheard. Hereswith twisted. “Would you like to join me? There’s plenty. I’d not mind a little conversation.” After all, she had picked the conversation room. She’d had other options if she wanted to be left alone.
Bess offered a smile, cautious, as if someone might disapprove. But then she moved her chair over, rather than waiting for one of the staff. It made a comfortable little grouping, close enough to talk quietly, without feeling crowded. “I think Adelaide noticed I’d had a more difficult day than I’d have chosen.” Hereswith said. “She has an excellent eye for that.”
Bess glanced down. “You’re certain you want to share?”
“Oh, yes. There’s two of everything. And I admit, while the spiced biscuits are excellent, they’re not actually my favourite.”
“Which do you like best, then? You have both, and I’ll have your spice biscuit.” One, Hereswith noticed, not both.
“Have both. Please. And I like the lemon best. Or chocolate, but they have a knack with the lemon. I do like a bit of citrus.” That at least made it possible to divvy up the food on offer. Hereswith poured tea out for both of them. Bess added cream and two lumps of sugar to hers, a little furtively, and Hereswith considered whether to ask about that.
“You’re only ever here on Tuesdays, aren’t you? And— pardon, I forget the details.” Also, she’d heard it secondhand, she was fairly sure. “You’re a companion somewhere?”
“Tuesday, yes. Madam Judson plays whist with three friends every Tuesday and has no need of my services for the afternoon.” Bess glanced at the clock near them, ticking quietly. “I’ve an hour before I need to go meet her.”
“I’m quite certain you know it to the minute,” Hereswith said. She didn’t speak carelessly, but she was noticing the way Bess’s precision played out. “Madam Judson does not approve of cream or sugar in tea, I gather.”
Bess looked down. “I’d not speak against her.”
“Of course not. It’s not sensible for you to do so. May I add a charm for privacy?” Hereswith knew a dozen, suited for different needs. Of course being able to have or confirm the privacy of a conversation was an essential magical skill in her line of work. Bess nodded once and Hereswith cast it wordlessly. Then she added the audible charm that demonstrated it was in play.
“Oh. My. That’s deft. I appreciate the consideration. You’d said it was a difficult day. Or more difficult.” Bess’s shoulders relaxed now the charm was up. “I can’t afford for Madam Judson to hear anything that would displease her. So much does.”
Hereswith nodded once, making note of the shift in her voice, like a breeze shifting the leaves. She was fortunate, so fortunate, that she was not dependent on any elderly relative for her well-being. She had her own salary from the Ministry, though that wouldn’t let her live as she did on its own. Papa was loving, generous, and entirely ready to support her spending her time as she chose.
But she could and did empathise. “It must be a constant strain to live so. And the sort of people who particularly want a companion so often want them at their beck and call, all hours of the day and night. So little time for yourself. I gather that’s part of why a certain kind of woman requires a companion, someone who will do as they bid, regardless of the rest of the world.”
“That, yes. I treasure the Tuesdays. I get to decide the order for a few hours. Shall I have tea first, or read, or read and have tea simultaneously? On a pleasant day, I could choose to walk in one of the gardens. On a rainy one, to sit by the window.”
“Oh, you like that too?” Hereswith was delighted. “I think some of the best quiet times are by a window, the rain coming down just enough you can hear it faintly, with warmth and a good book inside. The quiet of it.” She waved a hand, then reached for the scone, applying jam, then clotted cream. A moment later, Bess did the opposite, and Hereswith asked, prodding gently, “Family from Devon, then?”
Bess glanced at her hand, then laughed. “My mother’s side. Also, Madam Judson does not care for scones, but she prefers Devon’s approach when she must.”
Hereswith chuckled. “Oh, my preference is practical. I like the way the juice of the jam soaks in a little. But I’ll match whoever I’m with, if it makes them more comfortable. You, however, I was sure would understand a range of preferences and choose what you liked.”
“You’re in the Ministry, aren’t you? Beyond the Borders?” Bess took a delicate bite of her scone.
“I am. Which makes the question of jam or cream first quite a delicate one. And dozens of other things of that kind. I have a mix of policy work and meetings about that, and then a public face, with the non-magical, that’s a much more delicate social dance.”
“Along with a certain amount of being out in society here.” Bess glanced up, blue eyes focusing on Hereswith. “Madam Judson was in attendance at the St George’s Day Gala, and she spent hours with the paper the next few days. Your name was mentioned.”
“Oh, yes. The usual line about the Ministry work, and how I’m not settled down and married. Entirely on the shelf, of course, and have been for a decade and a half.” Hereswith considered how much else to say. “Escorted in this case by a young man in the department whose marriage is still being sorted for him. I mentor him, no other interest.” Terrance was coming along well, and he took advice particularly nicely. By which she meant he listened and asked questions, not necessarily that he did exactly as she suggested.
Bess nodded. “I would not have assumed, of course.” She took a bite or two of her scone, then swallowed delicately. “It is a problem, isn’t it? Having people assume what you want? It is for me. And it must be complicated to navigate with the non-magical.”
“Oh, yes. There, I and a colleague maintain the illusion we live in a townhouse in London. We do some entertaining. I am his spinster cousin. He is a confirmed bachelor. Marcus Everett, you might know William Exeter? They live together, here in Trellech.” That was enough to give the nod to preferences. Such things were not exactly condoned in most circles. If Bess were inclined to be difficult about it, best to know now.
“Madam Judson considers such things scandalous, as you might expect. I’ve rather envied the people who can find someone they choose, like that. A freedom not dictated by family obligations, or the obligation to have a family.”
