Page 61 of Claiming the Tower
“Of course not.” Hereswith had finished eating, and of course, that offer came with some other benefits. Ten minutes later, they were curled up in her bed, her head against Bess’s shoulder, comfortable and relaxed. Bess considered. “There’s a particular pattern I’ve noticed. In women like me, who prefer women, and have no interest in men.”
“As opposed to ...” Hereswith wasn’t entirely sure how to put this, and she didn’t want to offend. Her training was rather less help than it might be here.
“You’ve said you’re not sure. Though I have a related question, actually. A potentially distracting one, in an exploratory way, so I will save it.” Bess spread out her free hand. “Some people like me, they go running in a particular direction because they want that. They want women, the general idea of women, and they run towards it.”
“Some, therefore, are running away from men.” Hereswith could see that. “Not without some reason, given the range of reactions I’ve had from men recently.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I’m going to get any of my new colleagues proposing I marry them, but I’m none too sure about some of their relatives.”
“Rather, no. Will that be awkward? Was it awkward before?” Bess asked. “Did people make assumptions about you and Marcus?”
“Oh, Marcus’s preferences have been well known for a long time. Sometimes people would ask me how I could put up with him, but honestly, that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t shirk his share of the work, and he understood the places people reacted to him and he had more reach than I did. And where I did, because it was one of those subtle problems of half a dozen sentences over two hours and several cups of tea.” She added, because it had brought it to mind, “He’s settling in well with the new arrangement. A different cousin, other side of the fictional family— she’s a rather striking redhead, actually. Her hair is brighter than yours.” Hereswith added almost immediately. “I like yours better.”
“Well.” Bess sounded pleased. “That works well for me. The thing I was thinking about was the ways people claim who they are, and the ways some people refuse to. As if naming it makes it too real. You haven’t done that. You’re not standing up and shouting about your preferences. Or me. But I’ve got the sense you’re not— what’s the word?”
“Eliding, not lying,” Hereswith said, promptly. “I can make it clear I value you, without making it clear what we do in private.” Then Hereswith considered. “I felt badly about part of it. That the reality of things means you are always visible as my companion, and only visible as my companion. I can go off and do what I do because you are tending things here, because when I come home, there will be supper. Whatever needs my attention or signature, you’ll have ready. I cannot imagine keeping the estate going without you, even just this far. A fortnight, nearly.”
“You have been tending the place for a long time, and you know what it needs.” Bess let her fingers brush against Hereswith’s shoulder. “I suppose I have the wife’s part, and you have the husband’s. If we are being like that about it. But I do not much want to be out in public and visible. I want to get things done. Visibility often makes that harder, not easier.”
Bess’s tone— rather put upon— made Hereswith giggle. “It does. So, what do you want to do more of, that’s hidden?”
“Learn about the house and estate. Take care of you. See what happens when you let someone take care of you for weeks and months and perhaps years at a time. What you can do because you have that there, that you haven’t yet.” Then the fingers moved a little lower, into the edge of her nightgown. “As to the distractions, I wondered. I don’t care much for the sort of thing that goes inside you, a dildo, for pleasure. But I suddenly realised I shouldn’t assume what you like.”
“Inside. I’ve seen the— your books, the ones you gave me.” Hereswith had, honestly, been divided between curiosity and uncertainty. “Why don’t you care for them?”
“That whole matter of running toward or running away. Using them has seemed to me a bit like making the whole question of pleasure dependent on the male organ. I don’t care about the male organ, the male anything. Not in bed, anyway. I care about other things. But you shouldn’t let me decide for you. You’ve never tried? Fingers are different.”
“Never.” Hereswith wasn’t entirely sure what to say next.
“Shall I see about finding something— there is someone who makes them, safely designed and all that— and you can try? I don’t care for them in my own pleasure, but I do like seeing yours, and if you like them, I’ve no objections.”
“If we are exploring the way out of the boxes in which we have been placed, this seems a good enough one to explore, yes?” Hereswith felt Bess kiss the top of her hair. That was answer enough. “Don’t go to any particular bother, but yes, I’m curious about trying it, now we’ve talked about it. Spend my coin on it, please, not yours.”
“One of the increasingly many things I like about you is that you are clear about that. Which choices you’re making. Both the toy and the, what’s the word? The circumstances of acquisition.”
The tone in Bess’s voice made Hereswith twist a bit, then nudge Bess toward the bed. “Enough talking. Let me stop your mouth, and we might do something better with it.” The laugh she got in response was only the beginning of the evening’s satisfaction.
Chapter 41
November 14th in Trellech
The following Tuesday began in quite a promising way. Bess had delicately made arrangements to call on Madam Delongue at two, the hour in Trellech society for making calls that involved quieter conversation. She had come prepared with several reasonable topics at hand, but of course Madam Delongue was no fool.
They’d been talking for perhaps fifteen minutes. They’d covered the fact that Bess was beginning to learn more about those areas of interest to Hereswith— Magistra Rowan, in this context— in view of her expectations of hostessing once she was out of mourning. Madam Delongue certainly understood the time needed for that process, and they’d had quite a good chat about building the connections slowly over time.
“It places her in a somewhat challenging position,” Madam Delongue said, carefully. “She cannot, I presume, put all of whatever responsibilities she has on the Council in abeyance.”
“No, Madam,” Bess agreed. “But at the same time, she both has no desire for formal entertaining at the moment, and it would not be seemly, besides. She wondered about your advice in that matter, actually.”
“Ah. For a parent, the usual term for formal mourning would be eight or ten months, progressing to half mourning until the year mark. It is easier for the men, of course. I gathered her brothers have been seen at their offices. A woman in Council Member Rowan’s position must distinguish the narrow road between her public obligations and her private life.”
It was indeed simpler for the men. Bess said mildly, “If it is a matter of having business to see to, that applies as much to Magistra Rowan as to her brothers. More so, perhaps, since there is no second in command who can step up for a period on the Council. Each of them has their own obligations.”
Madam Delongue lifted her glasses to peer at Bess through them, and then came the question that Bess had expected. “Why have you come to me, then?”
Of course, Bess had discussed the possible answers with Hereswith in advance. They must be united in their strategy. That meant that while Bess could move more freely with some of it, she had to keep the entire goal and approach in mind. “Magistra Rowan is new to the dance of the Council and the way that it— and her father’s death— has changed her position in society. Certainly some people see an opportunity.”
“Marriage, or otherwise? Or, I suppose she’d likely already have several proposals, or at least the gesture at them arriving in due course.” Madam Delongue did indeed understand how such things worked. “And more now. I don’t know how much you know about the property.”
“None she considered worth a moment’s thought, but five so far, yes. She suspects it would have been more but for her father’s death. That means being prepared for them to come.” Bess considered, then said, mildly, “It is a lovely estate, well-managed, and I gather considered quite a prize.”
