Page 17 of Claiming the Tower
They went inside— it was quieter here, less in demand, more spacious. That space meant the figures were stunning. They were mostly casts, not originals, but they had been drawn from a range of palaces, and the entire space felt larger than life and certainly magnificent.
From there, they made their way along the west side, through courts devoted to the Alhambra— all geometric glory— and then Roman, Greek, and Egyptian. The last one fascinated Bess, and it was obviously quite popular with others. She wasn’t sure what caught her attention most, the manner of writing, the stylisation of the figures, the deftness of the art, or what. She spent several minutes staring at one exhibit, a copy of the Rosetta stone. The original was in the British Museum in London, of course, more safely displayed.
Hereswith came up beside her, tilting her head. “Your thoughts?”
“I was thinking how many layers of information these things convey. The language, but also the symbology. Looking at the paintings, the designs, on the walls, but then down to each— it’s a syllable, isn’t it, not a letter?”
“Not my area of expertise, but I believe so. There are books about it, I could pick one up. Now I’m curious. As you say, the layers of information, of what is conveyed, of what is important. Entirely of interest.” Bess glanced at her friend, and Hereswith’s eyes were still bright. “Refreshments next, or shall we work through the mediaeval and renaissance courts?”
It was a hard decision. “How busy is it now? How busy will it be later?”
That question made Hereswith snort, and consult the watch pinned to her dress. “It’s getting on for about half-three. Perhaps refreshments, a quick look at something, and then a little time out in the park?”
“You mentioned something about saurians. And I suppose we’d best be back at the train by six. Just in case there’s a delay.” Bess expected there would certainly be more of a crush at that time of day, though the train had been efficient and pleasant coming.
“In that case, something to eat or drink. We must keep our strength up.” Hereswith led the way back toward the refreshments. They made their selections, and the service was prompt, at least, and from a simple set menu. That was a sensible way to manage many people coming and going. While they waited for their foot and ate, Hereswith brought out the guide, to better determine what they most wanted to see.
Bess honestly did not have strong opinions. She was taken— had been taken since she’d arrived in London— by how glorious Hereswith looked. Her cheeks were blooming, her hair was properly up and under a bonnet, but there was one tiny wisp curling in front of each ear. And most of all, she was smiling and laughing, making a warm space that Bess wanted to bask in forever. Or at least as long as she could. Like a cat with a sunbeam.
The food was— well, the food was lesser quality than what she got with Madam Judson or at the Field. But it was more than sufficient in quantity, which had not been the case for her luncheon. Restored, especially by a few minutes sitting, they went and made a much quicker pass through the mediaeval and Renaissance rooms.
“I know I’m supposed to particularly admire all this,” Bess admitted. “Certainly, there are individual pieces I find fascinating. But I find much of it is, well. We see the same things over and over again. I’m interested in the other parts, the ones we don’t talk about.”
“Papa would like you for that alone,” Hereswith said, cheerfully. “It’s part of why he’s interested in the Anglo-Saxons. There’s a great deal we really don’t know. And so many people stop with a handful of facts or dates or names, and don’t go any further.” She tilted her head. “I like the objects, I think, but I am less interested in the art. Not that the books aren’t impressive.” She looked up, laughing. “My, I sound incredibly indecisive.”
“You like a number of things, for different reasons,” Bess said, firmly. “A quick look through some of the modern fabrics, and then outside?”
They did that. Oh, Bess wanted to linger with the modern fabrics. The range of colours and the delicacy of the printed designs were both something she wished she had time to lose herself in. But that would be wanting things she couldn’t have, and pining wasn’t good for the heart. By five, they were outside the palace itself, walking down broad steps through the centre park.
At the end of the long terraced walk, Hereswith nudged her to the right, as they walked arm in arm, until they were standing in front of a lake. Magnificent sculptures stood on islands, cruder in design than those inside the Crystal Palace, but somehow striking, as well. They were not shaped like animals she knew, or rather, parts of them were, and other parts were different in size, in shape, in configuration. She would want to spend quite a bit more time reading the guide when she got a chance.
Hereswith didn’t rush anything. When Bess finally blinked, shaking her head a little to clear it, she simply said, “There’s more this way.” The next island over, circling toward the rail station— their unwanted goal— had more.
“Oh, I like the Irish elk best by far!” As soon as she got a good look at it, Bess knew that for certain. It was stunning, more detailed than the others, but of course the sculptor could have worked from living animals, if rather smaller ones, far more easily. “I— yes. The antlers are real, aren’t they? That makes a difference, doesn’t it?”
Hereswith laughed, bubbling over. “They are my favourite as well. There’s something easier to reach for about them. Maybe it is the antlers. And the spread on them! We have deer, of course. Near home, there’s a deer park, but this is entirely different.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to have to leave, but needs must.” Bess tried to put the best possible face on it. “This has been a tremendous day.”
“Worth giving up the Faire for?” Hereswith glanced around to make sure there was no one very near, before she said it.
“Oh, yes.” It wasn’t any one thing, nothing Bess could put a name or tidy label on. It had been a cascade of pleasures. Each one had been chosen deliberately, making something glorious together, like the mosaics they’d seen, or grand palaces made of individual works of art. “You’ve been so talented, making every piece shimmer. I’ll treasure the memories.” It would be a year, likely, before she got this many hours free again at once. Barring something like a family funeral, which was not remotely the same.
Hereswith took a step back, before looking directly at Bess. “I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted you to have something lovely, that—” Her voice broke off. “And I’ll see you on Tuesday, of course.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Bess had to swallow down everything else she felt. There were more people approaching. This wasn’t remotely a conversation she could have here. Even if she’d know what she felt besides a flood of passion and joy and friendship and a need she’d never had to name, tumbling over each other. She was entirely in love. Hereswith did not know what she wanted. Bess was going to need to go home and pretend none of this existed.
Now she just offered her arm. “The train? We shall spend the trip talking about all we’ve seen and not borrow sadness just yet.” It would come momentarily, and it could wait.
Chapter 13
That evening at Verdant Court
Hereswith had been back less than an hour when there was a knock on the library door. The time had been enough for her to undress and change into a wrapper and join Papa for the rest of the evening. It was about the time when he often started dozing off. But every time she’d glanced up from her own book and her place on the sofa, he’d been reading, or looking over at her and smiling.
She was about to ask him about it when there was a rapping on the library door. There was only one maid in the house to see to anything they needed. Nellie would get her day off tomorrow, and an easier chance to see some of her family, so it had worked out for everyone. “Come?” Hereswith couldn’t think why there’d be a bother at this time of night, solstice day.
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but there’s someone here asking for you. A Mistress Murley?” Nellie didn’t normally deal with visitors, and it took Hereswith a moment to realise who she meant.
