Page 25 of Apt to be Suspicious
Instead, here he was, riding along, entirely confident of his knowledge of the estate’s needs. As Master Benton ought to be. That left Edmund coming back again to the topic he’d been contemplating since Papa proposed today’s outing. He was more than clever enough to know this particular trip had been arranged for more than one reason.
The named reason given was that Papa was looking at improving a bridge over the Avon at Burgate, and he wanted Edmund to have a look. Like all the improvements done by the estate, Master Benton would oversee the work. But that wasn’t the only reason for the ride. Edmund was sure of that.
Perhaps halfway there, while they were still a good way from the smaller villages that dotted the edge of the New Forest, Master Benton coughed once. “Young Master Edmund, there are a few matters of the estate that we might discuss before you return to Oxford.”
Edmund took Slate’s reins lightly in one hand, so he could twist to glance at Master Benton without distracting her. “Yes, sir?” That was another oddity. Oh, as steward, Master Benton had earned all due deference. But it meant formality in both directions, if a fond one, because Master Benton would never permit himself inappropriate informality.
Even Papa and Mama, after all these years, were always ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’ and ‘sir’ and such. Edmund and his sisters got their own versions, ‘young master’ and ‘young mistress’. Those distinguished from the earned titles of magical mastery, at least when they were at home or around magical folk. “Besides the bridge, of course.”
Master Benton acknowledged that with a nod. “Your parents have spoken with me about what responsibility you might begin to take on when it comes to the estate. This is the beginning of a longer conversation, of course. You have your studies, your coming travel.” Master Benton added a slight smile there. “We will come back to that in a few minutes. But managing a project like the improvement of a bridge is a useful skill.”
“It is. Though I don’t know how the timing works out in this case, as you say. I am not unwilling, it’s just a trick to be in three places at once, and to add a fourth.”
“Three, sir?” Master Benton made it a firm question, while playing within the structures. Edmund thought back to some of those conversations Telemachus had— with Athena wearing the face of Mentor, or with other adults. He’d wanted no part of the way Telemachus had sometimes treated his mother. But figuring out how to do what was needed, but from his own skills, that was highly relevant.
“First, as a young man up at Oxford, who must make at least some gesture at the ordinary pursuits of an undergraduate. I mostly beg off from the societies and drinking and sporting clubs, but I need to show my face at some parties. Second, reading Greats and the particular obligations that gives me, especially to the library and a variety of lectures.” There’d be more of those in Trinity term. The lecture list was thick with things either Edmund wanted to go to, or that Uncle Alexander was encouraging. “Third, my apprenticeships with Uncle Alexander, which are more than enough to fill a day on their own. And then fourth, here and the estate. At least the first three are all within a mile or two of each other. And good roads.”
Master Benton chuckled. “True. No one expects you to focus here while you’re up at university. But as there is a chance to see more of the steps of this sort of project, we might bring you in. That is not, however, the only consideration.”
Edmund opened his mouth, closed it, and then just nodded before mildly adding, “Of course there are more. It is Mama and Papa we’re talking about here, as well as your own ideas.”
It got another chuckle, so that was all right. “I am not as young as I was.” Master Benton spoke carefully. “I fully intend to be of service to Lord Carillon, your father, to the end of my days, in whatever way I might be of use. But it is time to take on someone in training who might have the same sort of care for the estate and Lord Carillon’s needs. And, young master, your needs in turn.”
Edmund shifted in the saddle, enough that Slate came to a stop. Master Benton halted his gelding, made him back up a step or two to match Edmund, and waited. Edmund had not remotely thought of that. Not really. There was a part of him that assumed things would go on as they had. They’d made it through the war. The entire family, the estate, the horses and all.
It would be safe to let Master Benton see he was surprised. That was the thing. Edmund knew, as absolutely as he knew how to stay in a saddle or call magic to his hands, that Master Benton would tend to Edmund’s needs in every way possible. Finally, Edmund coughed once, gathering his thoughts. “Please, would you tell me what you have in mind? I am certain you’ve given a great deal of thought to the best way to go forward. I admit I hadn’t really considered the matter. Or wanted to.”
“There has been no particular reason you ought. Also, his lordship thought that this conversation might better wait until your recent examinations were completed. There is no rush. Simply that it might take a year or three for someone to have the sort of familiarity with the estate we might want, in order to begin delegating more delicate tasks.”
“And so best to start sooner. Someone who might see me through for a good while.” Edmund did not want to think about his parents dying, in whatever long-distant time that might be. He loved them. He revelled in their love of him. But he also— unfashionable as it was— enjoyed time with them whenever they could manage it. His parents, his sisters, the other adults he’d grown up with here on the estate, were all clever, skilled, interesting people. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“There are three candidates I’m considering, all of whom have some experience of assisting in managing an estate, though none so established as this,” Master Benton said. “We have a number of unique features.”
“The Forest rights,” Edmund agreed. The whole matter of turning out the livestock into the Forest came with a number of complicated traditions. “And the stables, though I know Master Pride is training up people there to assist.” Breeding horses— and especially training them— certainly needed a number of younger bodies for parts of it. “I gathered, talking to Stan, that he has been settling into that very well so far this spring.”
Stan Pride was his father’s eldest and chosen heir. Stan had come back from the war safely enough. He’d been working closely with his father on training the up-and-coming horses for a year and a half now. He’d had a lot of the training of Slate. Edmund had been talking more to Stan the last few days about what it would take for him to give Slate a chance to shine. He was more or less decided now, which meant figuring out how to go about doing more training with her. Stan had seemed pleased to be asked, pleased to be building something after the war, but Edmund still felt a bit awkward about it. Stan had been in combat. Edmund hadn’t, and he’d have to get more at ease with how that gap felt. It wasn’t going to go away.
“Just so.” That was a bit of quiet praise from Master Benton, and Edmund was delighted. “What I would prefer would be to talk with each of the three I’m considering— two men, one woman— and see what I think. Have them out to see the estate and see how they react, and meet your father. Then, over the summer, do the same when you are here. Ideally, have whoever it is start in the late summer or early autumn.”
“A narrow window, given the travel.” Edmund shrugged. “Certainly, if that’s how you think it best to arrange things. Would it be a problem, someone starting as we get into the harvest?”
“It would depend on their current positions. I’d be glad to wait on having them come on until the harvest was in. No sense in making enemies at other estates that way. But perhaps arrangements for them to visit once a fortnight or once a month until their employment begins properly, something like that.”
“Seeing things at the various stages, that has a good pace.” Edmund nodded. “I can likely get away for an afternoon or two as well. It depends on the assignments of the week. Some of that depends on Uncle Alexander.” Then he took a breath. “We should probably get on to the bridge?”
“Yes, sir.” Master Benton got his gelding walking. “No one is surprised that Magister Landry is a demanding apprentice master, of course.”
“And how.” Edmund grinned at that, because again, he knew Master Benton would understand this, without Edmund needing to mask any of it or explain it. “I want to live up to his expectations, of course. Besides, there’s a little drudgery, practising things over and over, but most of it is fascinating. His experiences— well, Papa’s and yours, too— encourage an approach of pulling from different strands, rather than focusing on one narrow path.”
“The mercurial nature of Lord Carillon shines through, yes.” Master Benton sounded entirely content at that. “That was something I first noticed in him, actually.”
Master Benton had never spoken of this directly, at least not to Edmund. “Oh? I’m exceedingly curious now, of course. If you’re willing to talk about it.”
“The story is brief enough. I’d been assigned to a new battalion, as happened frequently enough. I was the oldest of the new privates sent along, and I rather took charge a bit, keeping people in order. Your father came out— Captain Carillon, as he was then— and introduced himself. He did it smoothly, charmingly. It was only much later that I realised exactly how deliberate he’d been about getting a laugh or two. What he did, putting the men at ease, beginning to bring them into the unit. A group, you understand, not a swarm of individuals.”
Edmund had seen both his parents do that in various forms, and he nodded. “And you in particular?”
“His lordship called me in last, and I admit I was distracted by the state of his uniform and the dugout. It hadn’t been properly tended. Oh, it wasn’t badly handled, but the minor details, you understand, had been neglected. I have always thought that how we conduct ourselves in the worst of times speaks about who we are at the deepest heart. Of course, Captain Carillon’s greatest attention was, as it ought to be, for the men under his command, rather than his collars or cuffs. He saw my reaction, realised I was magical, and asked me about my background. As soon as he learned I’d been in service, he took me on as his batman. I have given thanks to Dea Bona every morning and night since for that chance of luck.”
