Page 21 of Claiming the Tower
“I think that the world is extremely foolish about not noticing your worth, and certainly falling down about being kind to you in proportion to what you deserve. But we can see about doing something about that in due course.” Hereswith nodded. “Excellent. Let’s see. If I send a note now, and check on Papa, I can show you round the house for an hour or so, we can lunch in Trellech, and then go to the solicitor, when they should have whatever documentation you need to sign ready. Lunch at the Field? I’ll send James off with the notes. They can have a room ready, likely.”
Bess would not argue. She should, she knew that, but she wasn’t going to. She nodded once. “As you wish.”
Chapter 15
Sunday dinner at Verdant Court
Hereswith was not at the Midsummer Faire. And she would not be on Monday, either. Tuesday, though, she had promised Bess an afternoon to enjoy the Faire. It was something for Hereswith herself to look forward to, almost as much. Saturday had been entirely tedious, and this morning was nearly as much so.
The actual diplomacy of the evening had been made of tension and entirely the sort of people who wanted the women banished to the parlour, not engaging in the actual conversation. Not only did Hereswith want to be part of it, but Marcus preferred it when she was there. They each had different particular foci. He’d been just as frustrated, after. Then they’d had to appear at church this morning, with no point in going to their own homes.
The London townhome was comfortable enough, but it was not remotely hers. Every bit had to be decorated as any woman of her class and purported background would, and all the magic had to be hidden. They did occasionally host non-magical guests for a few days here or there, always something of a strain.
Tonight, though, both her brothers had come out for supper. Neither of them had explained precisely why. It was far more common for them to come singly, or for a family occasion with their wives and possibly their children. The conversation over supper itself had an edge to it, the sort of edge Hereswith was trained to notice.
An echo, that’s how she always explained it when pressed, an open chord without the third, so you couldn’t properly tell the scale or mode without more information. Everything being presented was accurate enough, but it was not the entire truth or the complete landscape. It was a pen and ink sketch, if one changed artistic modes.
It wasn’t until they got to the after supper coffee that Wulfred cleared his throat. “Did you intend to withdraw, Hereswith?”
“Not tonight.” Bess was dining up in the sitting room. She hadn’t wanted to intrude on the family. “Not when it’s just family.” Their wives usually withdrew because they didn’t care for a good half hour of historical argument counterpointed against whatever investments Wulfred was currently considering. Instead, she leaned forward. “Do tell why you came out today?”
Oswig hesitated. Wulfred nodded at him firmly, and Oswig spoke. “There’s been some gossip. We wanted to find out what was going on.”
“Gossip.” If her older brothers had sense, they’d have reconsidered. Alas, they did not have that much sense. Hereswith had wondered, for much of her adult life, how much of that was nature as opposed to nurture. Their mother had been, by all accounts, a pleasant woman, but content with a more domestic sphere. She’d died of a fever when Oswig was nine. And of course, it had been different, then, in terms of how social events were arranged.
They’d been at school by the time Papa had remarried and Hereswith was born. But for all that, they’d got along well with Mama. She’d arranged pleasant things for them— outings and their particular amusements and interests— without, Hereswith thought, trying to step into their mother’s place. As an adult, she suspected the correct phrase was affectionate but not maternal. Not that Papa was particularly good at being paternal, not in that sense. They’d muddled along, comfortably enough and without the arguments or enmities that sometimes happened.
Now, Hereswith waited for one of them to expand. Papa waited too, though she could tell he was letting Hereswith take the lead. That was partly because being sharp, the way he’d been when she was younger, was exhausting. But also because the gossip was probably more relevant to her.
“There’s someone staying, Hargrave said. Sitting with you, Father, the last two days?”
“A friend of mine.” Hereswith kept her voice clear. “Horse House, a few years ahead of me, we’ve been chatting over tea at the Field for some weeks.”
“Previously with Madam Judson.” That was Wulfred at his most disapproving.
“That would be the gossip, then?” Hereswith matched him tone for tone. “You can’t give credence to it.”
“You know nothing about the woman! There are some horrible stories about her. That there’s silver missing, that sort of thing.”
Hereswith narrowed her eyes. “You’re listening to that nonsense?”
“How do you know it’s not true?” That was Oswig. He lent forward enough he half stood up, then caught himself and sat with an audible thump. He was forgetting himself, that was a worrying sign.
Hereswith took a deep breath, then made a point of a slow sip from the glass on the table. “Would you like to hear from me, then, the scope of the arrangements?”
Wulfred almost burst out with something, and Papa raised two fingers. Wulfred subsided, and Oswig managed a more or less polite, “Please, sister, if you would share what you have in mind.”
Just to make her point, and to draw out the space a little more, Hereswith took another sip from her glass. She could only do that twice more without being obvious. She didn’t have enough wine left. “Mistress Marley has spent the past two decades as a companion in several respectable households, serving patiently with care. As is common— as we do for our own staff— she had permission for a half day on Thursday. She was home on time, before Madam Judson was expected back from her attendance at the Council Rites. Instead, Mistress Marley was turned out without proper notice.”
Wulfred was about to say something, but Hereswith forged on, refusing to give him so much as a breath to interrupt. “Mistress Marley could bring none of her things, she was not permitted to pack her personal items, even to bring her savings down from her room. It was after banking hours on the solstice. That’s the sort of thing you do if there’s a concern about safety, not for being a few minutes late. Not that Bess was late.”
Now it was Oswig who cleared his throat, and Hereswith ignored that too. “Naturally, Bryce and Howell were glad to see to the practical details. They made sure that Mistress Marley’s personal possessions were properly inventoried, packed safely, and returned to her on the Friday, as well as all payment due. They’ve set up the current contract, entirely within the expected standards.” This was where she paused for effect. “And they have ensured that Bess’s side of things was properly reviewed under truth charms, calling in a favour from one of the staff in the Courts. She is not the one at fault here, whatever story Madam Judson is putting around.”
Oswig looked from Hereswith to Papa and back to Hereswith. “What precisely is she doing here? You have been vehement you do not need a chaperone.”
“I do not. We are of Albion, not Victoria’s Britain, thank you. I can be trusted in public and in private without a keeper of my purity or chastity.” Not that she had actually done anything that might affect either, but that was neither here nor there. In all such things in Victoria’s realm, it was the show of the thing that mattered as much as the reality. “But I do like her company. And Papa does too, so far. The agreement is that Bess is spending time with Papa for the month. We will re-evaluate at the end of three weeks what makes sense going forward.”
Papa picked his time to speak very well, adding, “I like the woman. She does not fuss about finding books in the library, she asks good questions, and she does not chatter on. And—” He hesitated for a moment. “I do feel better having someone in the room when I am on my own for some time.”
