Page 33 of Claiming the Tower
Wulfred whirled around to stare at her. Lucina had taken a few steps toward the door, abandoning the card game. In the tone of a family matriarch doing her best to find out what nonsense had happened now, she said, “Wulfred, I would like to hear, please.”
Her husband turned back, then let out a huff of breath. “I won’t be shamed.”
Hereswith did not come in. “I’ll bring Papa. Bess, perhaps tea all round, from the side table.” She disappeared from Bess’s line of sight through the door, replaced by Oswig as he came in. It took three or four minutes before Hereswith escorted her father in, with him leaning on her arm. Bess closed the door behind them, having served up the tea. The interval was long enough, she thought, that they’d had a little quiet conversation first. Now, Hereswith saw her father to what was obviously his particular chair in this room, and then settled on the sofa, gesturing for Bess to sit beside her.
Bess would give Hereswith’s family one thing: they were civilised about their arguments. Wulfred was still obviously angry, but he was not huffing and puffing and yelling like many other men might. Once Hereswith was ready, she spoke clearly. “Lucina and Clarissa, what I told my brothers after supper was that I will be speaking with Council Member Ventry about what is involved in making a Challenge for the open Council seat at the end of August. She suggested I consider it, having seen some of my work recently and having asked some probing questions about how I went about things.”
Bess could not decide where to look. Lucina, she thought, was considering the implications faster. “Thank you for telling us.” That was also cordial. Then, more cautiously, the woman went on, “It is not a decision I would have expected from you.”
“Who is going to take care of Father, for one thing!” Wulfred burst out with it. “And it’s not, it’s not what our sort do.”
That, Bess thought, was likely the dual crux of the problem. First, that other commitments might mean Wulfred would have to pay more attention. Second, that something might draw the wrong sort of attention to Wulfred.
Oswig cleared his throat. “If it’s a change you want, Hereswith, dear, it’s not too late to consider marriage. Perhaps a widower with a child, if you don’t want your own.”
Wulfred muttered, but not so quietly Bess— and Hereswith— couldn’t hear. “Who’d want her.” Oswig glared at him, which meant Bess could make note and pretend she hadn’t heard that. For the moment. Lucina, to her credit, narrowed her eyes and seemed to disapprove as well.
“In the interests of family harmony, I am going to pretend I did not hear that, either of you.” Hereswith shrugged slightly. “I do not wish to marry, thank you. That has not changed. I have been working, for more than a decade now, in a role that has irregular hours. We have sorted things well for Papa. It is, in fact, exactly the sort of problem money can help with, and we’ve no shortage.”
Then Hereswith inclined her head. “Bess has been helpful so far in demonstrating the benefits of having someone else here reliably, and what range of tasks is most helpful. There are hiring agencies, depending on the needs. Unless you intend to chain me here, day in and day out, the Council is, I believe, not so different.”
Her father had been quiet, and Oswig certainly gave him no chance to say anything. “What makes you interested, though? It’s nothing anyone in our family has done. It— it draws attention.”
“The heavens forbid we do anything that others might notice.” Hereswith snorted, amiably mocking that silliness for what it was. “I was not asking permission. I am telling you my plans, so that you may decide what you wish to say in public.” Her posture was ramrod straight, and Bess didn’t venture to move or cough or do anything that might break that moment.
There was a silence that drew out until her father spoke. “What would you like from us, Hereswith, my dear?”
“Your support. I know I have yours, Papa.” But, Bess noted, she’d said that here, in front of the rest of her family, so that her father would repeat it.
He, mind, was laughing, as if that was far too simple a thing to catch him out. “You have my full support, yes. As you said when we discussed it earlier today, there are reasons you might withdraw from considering it. But you also have reasons to make the attempt. I will support whatever you choose there, with all at my disposal.” Then he added, offhandedly. “Do not name children for entirely competent dynasties and expect them not to make the most of an opportunity, mmm?”
Bess suppressed the desire to ask for a suitable biography of Hereswith’s namesake or her family. She could do that tomorrow when they were alone in the library, after all, and not show her hand about it.
Wulfred grimaced, but at least he’d stopped shouting. “People will ask me why you have the effrontery to put yourself forward. It’s not?—”
Hereswith said, matching his tone exactly, “The done thing.” She shrugged. “What I suggest you say is that I have a decade and a half experience in the Ministry. I certainly know how the slow wheels of administration work, and perhaps I’d like to try a fresh set. If I try and fail, I doubt I’ll be one of the sort who keeps trying. But I feel, as the others I’ve consulted agree, that if Magistra Ventry made the suggestion, she must have good reason.”
Oswig cleared his throat. “So, what is your plan for preparation? Groves was going on about his outfit. You’re no duellist— you’ve other skills, of course.” His voice faltered a bit at the end, but at least he’d said it.
“I have an increasingly long list of questions for Magistra Ventry, and that is one of them,” Hereswith agreed. “Along with the protocol for making the request, the event itself, whatever other preparations she recommends, if there is anyone else she suggests I speak with. I cannot make actual plans until I’ve had that conversation, whatever comes out of it.”
Wulfred, finally, managed a “She’s terrifying.”
“Oh, yes. With excellent reason. But I have had two conversations with her in or near private recently, and I have come out of them well enough. Third might well be the charm, don’t you think?” Then she added, slipping it beautifully, “Also, I might know a thing about being a woman who needs levers to be listened to. If nothing else, I will enjoy the chance to see how a true mistress of Incantation uses her words and her self toward her goals.”
It made her father laugh, comfortably. “Settled?”
Hereswith’s brothers swallowed, more or less in unison, bobbed their heads, and then murmured that yes, they would not argue the point. Hereswith gave it a brief space, before picking up and asking her father about some small matter on the grounds that her brothers might have some ideas about. And Clarissa, who had a touch for garden design. Hereswith excused herself as her brothers and their wives left, saying she wanted to retire immediately, and Bess did not chase her.
Chapter 23
That night
Hereswith couldn’t settle. She’d tried reading, once Mary had helped her undress, and it had not helped nearly enough. Some of it was just the nature of the evening, full of thorns and sharp edges. It had, on the whole, gone better than she’d been afraid of, as a conversation. On the other hand, better did not mean it had gone as brilliantly as she’d wanted, the way she’d played it out in her mind.
Now she couldn’t sleep. She got up, pulling a wrap on, and went out to read in the study instead. It was better than staring up at the ceiling. Then, of course, she couldn’t get herself to focus on the book. She had been trying for perhaps ten minutes when there was a soft rap on the door. Hereswith turned— it really could only be Bess or maybe one of the maids.
Bess cleared her throat. “I saw the light. Did you want to be left alone?”
