Page 4 of Claiming the Tower
“My brothers have taken care of that when it comes to the family line, thankfully. They’re both older. My nieces and nephews are adults now. I do like them, though, and I enjoyed when they were young.” Her brothers, that was a more complex question, though Oswig was kinder and more likely to think of Hereswith’s particular interests than Wulfred, their older brother.
“Older brothers have their uses.” Bess glanced away. Something in that made her uncomfortable. Then she deliberately reached for one of the spice biscuits, sipping her tea. “Where do you live when you’re not in London?”
“Our family home, just outside Bath. Mama was his second wife.” Now it was Hereswith’s turn to hesitate. “She was in Paris during the cholera epidemic in 1831, and well.” Her voice trailed off. “I was in my first year at Schola.”
“I am so sorry. That must have been horrible. And to have it happen when she was away, and you were away from home.” Bess’s sympathy— and empathy— were immediate. “Your father?”
“Elderly, his body fails him more than he approves. But his mind is still sharp, for the most part. He has a deep fondness for Anglo-Saxon history, and named us accordingly. But if one can cope with that quirk, he has wide-ranging interests otherwise, always an interesting conversation. It set me up extremely well for diplomatic work, honestly. Both following someone’s obsession with a topic and having a selection to draw on.”
Bess laughed at that. “Oh, I can imagine. What sort of topics are relevant, then?” The conversation wound on from there, most agreeably. It travelled through a discussion of Hindu customs at meals, the operatic works of Rossini, several recently published novels and Bess’s fondness for Gothic fiction. Or at least her fondness when she could sneak a chance to read them. It also included a compare and contrast of other tea carts they had particularly enjoyed, which gave Hereswith a good idea of Bess’s preferences.
By the time Bess had to depart to meet Madam Judson, Hereswith felt both of them were much the better for the conversation. She made a point of noting down that she should see about coming back to The Field on a Tuesday afternoon when her schedule allowed.
Chapter 3
May 2nd in Madam Judson’s home
It was past four before Bess caught her breath. Technically, she was seeing about making a minor change to the supper plans. Cook had rolled her eyes but nodded, then set to work preparing an entirely different soup for supper. Bess could therefore take a minute to catch her breath in the back stair, before going back to Madam Judson. That all was in order.
It wasn’t kind to Cook, but Cook knew what to expect, the same way Bess did. Whatever the initial orders of the day were, it was at least a one in two chance that there’d be a change. Cook dealt with it by keeping a number of things on hand, and adjusting what went to the staff meals as opposed to Madam Judson. And unless their mistress were entertaining, at least it was only two portions of whatever the change was that were needed.
Because, of course, Bess would eat what Madam Judson did. Except when she was told to go eat in her room and have her meal interrupted. She wouldn’t know which of those it would be tonight until supper time.
Standing there in the stairwell, she suddenly realised she hadn’t even thought about the fact it was Tuesday. Last Tuesday had been such a pleasant island in the larger schema of her life. Hereswith had a brightness to her that Bess wanted more of. It wasn’t any one thing in specific. Or perhaps it was that Bess wanted to turn both toward the kindness, and that sharp cleverness and attention to the tiniest details of what Bess had said and done. Most of all, Bess had felt safe with Hereswith seeing.
There was logic to that. For one thing, they were both of Horse House, and generally speaking, their shared House did not trade on someone else’s weaknesses like that. But second, Hereswith was not only established at the Ministry, but dealt with vastly more interesting secrets and tasks than Bess’s minor foibles.
No, also, it was the way Hereswith had reacted. She’d made the whole thing a grand shared conspiracy, somehow drawing Bess along. Making it entirely reasonable to be drawn along. It was possible to use that sort of power in many wrong ways. But since Hereswith had largely applied it to making sure Bess had half the tea tray, Bess couldn’t find it in herself to argue. Being able to enjoy her food without interruption or judgement were both rare delights.
That was the problem with today, actually. Madam Judson felt she had over-indulged at yesterday’s celebrations for May Day. The Judsons were not Lords of the Land; that was the Beaupres. But they were a notable family, there were traditions to uphold. And of course, as the dowager of the family, widowed for ten years, Madam Judson had opinions about the whole thing. Her daughter-in-law had different opinions.
In the other two homes where she’d been a companion, there had been the tacit understanding that her role was not to get into the middle of such things. Her role was to be loyal to her mistress, and at her beck and call. Madam Judson did not have the same sensibility about it. She had sent Bess on a dozen different attempts to change plans at the last minute.
Elianne Judson had at least understood what was going on. As soon as Bess had cleared her throat and offered, “I beg pardon, Mistress Judson, but Madam Judson bade me inquire...”, the younger woman had seen what was going on. Each time she had come back with an unwanted answer, the problems had escalated. On two points, Bess had been able to suggest an alternative that was acceptable to both sides. The whole thing was entirely ridiculous.
She heard the bell before anyone had to come fetch her, rung loudly. “On my way.” She called it over her shoulder, picking up her skirts and trotting up the stairs.
“Where were you, Bess?” As soon as she entered the room, Madam Judson was glaring at her.
“Beg pardon.” Bess didn’t offer any excuse, and she certainly wouldn’t imply that any of the house staff had to do with the delay. “I was caught up considering what you might want for your embroidery later.”
“That’s entirely foolish of you. You can’t possibly remember without it right in front of you. Is Cook adjusting the meal?”
“Of course, ma’am. She had thought you might want something more delicate today, to suit your refined palate.” Yesterday’s meal, besides being abundant, had been rather heavy on the sauces. The younger Judsons had a new French chef and part of the day had definitely been about showing that off.
“Indeed. Well, now, I need several things from my upstairs sitting room. Go and get them, and quickly, too.” Madam Judson barely took a breath before launching into a list of ten items. Bess bobbed and went off. Most of the items were together, at least, but the last two— the preferred scissors for this particular task and the case of embroidery thread— needed gathering from the morning room. It did not leave her a lot of time to think, just to move through the task as efficiently as she could.
Once she came back, Madam Judson gestured her into a chair. “The children made an utter snarl of my thread yesterday. Untangle it. And no cutting, of course. We won’t have waste in this house.”
The snarl was truly incredible. Bess was sure the girls— two of the Judson cousins, old enough to be out among the adults for the afternoon, eight and ten— hadn’t done such impeccable work deliberately. It did not make things easier to undo. Especially since there were a dozen shades of brown and yellow in there, and half a dozen of blue and green and red. She rummaged in her own chatelaine, drawing out the small screw-top tube that held a blunt embroidery needle and a buttonhook.
“May I move to the better light, madam?”
Madam Judson waved a hand, somewhat irritably. “If you must.” Bess moved, that was the most permission she was going to get. She’d been working for perhaps fifteen minutes when there was another sharp, “Not done yet?”
“They made quite a tangle, ma’am. It will take me more time. I’ve extracted the browns, though, most of them.”
“I can’t imagine why you aren’t quicker. My last girl, she was entirely deft with her needle. Quick with it, as well as accurate. It’s the quickness that made her valuable. You dawdle, far too often.”
