Page 39 of Claiming the Tower
Hereswith suspected it would not be so many. Her apprentice mistress had died five years ago; she’d been elderly when Hereswith had apprenticed. Papa was perhaps too frail for an evening out, though he might insist in this case. Bess would come, and Marcus and William. She would perhaps think of a couple of others. She did not much want her brothers and sisters-in-law there, but she would consider how to handle that. Or perhaps one of the older nieces or nephews, as a token of the rest of the family. “Thank you.” She considered. “And the work of the Council, beyond what’s generally known?”
“Ah.” Now Blanch’s eyes danced. “I think it is fair to say that you will have challenges to keep you intrigued for the rest of your days. There are certain cycles and repeated tasks, of course. Some are more tedious than others. But there are also many problems that need clever, caring minds and magic to tend.”
Hereswith took a breath, then she said, as bravely as she could. “Entice me, then.”
It was what was needed. She had, she recognised, as Blanch spoke, needed to admit that this was something she wanted. Something she was willing to risk herself for. And the truth of it was her work so far had not involved that kind of risk. As Blanch laid out a handful of examples, Hereswith began to get a sense of it. Not only the work— she was seeing only a fragment, of course— but also some of the other personalities involved. She was certain that was deliberate on Blanch’s part. It was the sensible way to do things. It was a gift.
And it would give Hereswith a great deal to keep her busy between now and the end of August.
Chapter 26
July 29th at the Temple of Healing, Trellech
“Ah, yes, Madam Hall, a pleasure to see you again. Have you met Mistress Bess Marley? She’s kindly accompanying me today, but she’s been such a companion to dear Papa.” Bess listened to what was about the thirtieth introduction of this kind. Hereswith sounded just as enthusiastic and delighted to speak with Madam Hall as she had been with the first.
Fortunately, Bess’s role in this garden party was to stand to Hereswith’s side, occasionally hand over a calling card from the reticule she carried, and make polite conversation as required. As everyone wanted to talk to Hereswith and none of them cared about Bess, Bess’s comments could be limited to a brief pleasantry. She was alternating between comments on a dress, a flower, a hat, or occasionally a small child.
Hereswith, on the other hand, was most fascinating to watch in action. This event was, fundamentally, to raise funds for the Temple of Healing, all those things that other sources did not quite cover. The day was beautiful; the gardens were in full bloom, and every trick for this sort of event had been pulled out to make everything shine. There were patients— the ones who had healed enough it was not a harm to them— and nurses out, reminding people subtly what the money was supporting.
Hereswith had been welcomed warmly by the women organising the event, and had presented an envelope to be added to the basket of donations. Bess had seen the slip that morning before they came into Trellech. She knew it had a substantial donation, written out and charmed to authorise the distribution from the family’s vault, on behalf of Hereswith and her father.
The women at the garden gate had certainly knew the amount, as well. There had been a gleam in their eyes. Also, ardent thanks for Hereswith’s consistency. It was a side of the world Bess had not seen much of. Her previous patrons had not taken her to such events on the whole. Or, when they had, it had been a matter of duty, and the gifts had not been that large.
Now, Hereswith was moving along to someone else, before murmuring, “Perhaps we might find a spot in the shade for a moment, and could I prevail on you to fetch a glass of something cooling for us both?” Hereswith was about to say something else before she caught herself. “That table, I think. I’ll be over there, that bench.”
“Of course. I’ll be back in just a moment.” Bess did not use a name. That was complicated here. ‘Hereswith’ might be read as too intimate. Mistress Rowan was complex.
It wasn’t until she was turning away from the refreshments table that she saw what Hereswith must have noticed. Madam Judson was there, with both daughters-in-law, though her back was turned to Bess right now. Bess took a breath and went straight back to Hereswith. The bench she’d found by the stone wall that encircled the Temple grounds was indeed beautifully shaded. The soft sound of a fountain’s water moving muffled the others in the garden and added a little hint of cooling damp to the surroundings.
Hereswith was watching her steadily. “You saw her.” It wasn’t a question. That was the thing Bess had been learning about Hereswith in public. She paid attention, and no detail seemed too small. It should be terrifying to have that focused on her, but Bess found it comforting that she didn’t have to notice it all herself.
Bess nodded just once as she handed over the glass of lemonade. She was trying to keep a pleasant expression on her face, but she was sure it was strained.
“How would you like to handle it?” Hereswith was settled comfortably on the bench, her skirt spread, angled so she could see anyone approaching. Of necessity, Bess had her shoulder toward the party, but they were a good twenty feet away from others for the moment.
“How would I— pardon?” Bess heard her voice go up, but she was keeping quiet enough it wouldn’t carry. Also, ahead of her was a wall rather thoroughly covered by climbing plants. They were an excellent muffle in such cases.
Hereswith flicked her fingers, and Bess could feel that pulse of the privacy charm, a rather good trick in the open air. Then she spoke more firmly. “If you wish to avoid her entirely, I will, of course, make that happen. If you wish to rub her nose in the fact you have a better position, I would be delighted to do that. Have I mentioned how well that dress suits you recently?”
“Not in the last two hours.” Bess glanced down. Hereswith had insisted that Bess have a few new dresses of her own, along with the additions to Hereswith’s wardrobe, suitable for the coming Challenge and whatever came after it.
Once the announcement had been made, Hereswith had received several invitations to gatherings. Marcus had attended them with her, apparently amused by the chance to show her off in different surroundings. Or, as Hereswith put it, for the chance for Hereswith to be the focus of attention. They’d been doing the complicated social dances while he smiled and pivoted and helped her present herself at her best advantage.
That reminded Bess, however. “Are Marcus and William here? Didn’t you say they were coming?” Then she looked down at her dress again, which was indeed a lovely blue, like a deep lake high in the mountains. It did not try to start an argument with Bess’s hair. Hereswith was in an emerald green silk, with a subtle shimmer to it and delicate embroidery in a lighter green that drew the eye to her face and hands. She looked striking in it, her dark hair, nearly black, contrasting with the verdant and expansive green of the dress.
“Over on the far side, still near the entrance.” Hereswith glanced over Bess’s shoulder, confirming it. “I’m certain they’d help. William doesn’t care for the Judsons either, though I’m not clear on why. I would be glad to apply my skills to finding out. Just say the word.”
Bess raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you offering a social duel for my questionable virtue?”
She asked lightly, but watching Hereswith, she suddenly realised that it was no minor matter to her friend. Hereswith was utterly sincere, entirely willing to tear down everything if Bess wanted it. It was burning, just behind her eyes, and Bess wondered how she kept that ferocity hidden.
When Hereswith spoke, there was no hint of it. Her tone was almost teasing. “I rather thought your virtue was not in question, my dear Bess. Under negotiation, yes, but not question.” Trust Hereswith to be that precise about her language, even here and now. “Which option would you prefer?”
Bess felt her teeth chewing on the inside of her lower lip. It was an unattractive habit. She made herself stop. “What precisely are my options? And what are your goals here? We were here for you.”
“Well, my goals involved delivering a substantial contribution to the good work of the Temple of Healing. I have done that. They have recognised it, and by Monday afternoon’s post, there will be an exceedingly florid thank you note. I will add it to my collection of other floridly grateful notes.” Hereswith added, in a rather musing sort of tone, “Fortunately, I judge future donations on the work done, not the note. Last year’s from the inestimable ladies who organise the thing had three errors in the writing, one of them making a most unfortunate reference. I had a word with the right person and then pretended not to notice.”
Bess snorted. “I would like to see your collection at some point then, some quiet evening when we have run out of other topics. If we ever do.” She considered. “My options, please. You are better at laying out the tactical map. I would not wish to deprive you of the pleasure of it.”
