Page 46 of Apt to be Suspicious
“Why did you say that?”
“Trick to get the stiffness out.” It was one he’d learned under Major Manse, and now he kept a private stash of ridiculous phrases for the purpose. It worked much better when someone else said them, or saying them to someone else, though. The element of surprise helped. “Here we go.”
Aunt Cammie had been waiting, because as soon as they got onto the front steps, the door was opening. “Edmund! And you must be Miss Stirling. Come in, please. Giles is in the study, this way.” The thing about Aunt Cammie— well, one thing— was that she absolutely loved people, talking to people, learning about people and whatever they did. She considered it all grist for her mill, or at least her avid curiosity. Today, she was wearing a blouse and skirt, decidedly less formal than some days, her dark hair pulled back, with her usual escaping tighter curls framing her face.
Edmund gestured, Pen let out a little sound, and followed Aunt Cammie. The study, of course, was one of the most used rooms in the house. It took up the entire length of the building to the garden on the right. The desk by the window had the expected typewriter and braille writer, a stack of papers, and a stack of books. Aunt Cammie’s desk, smaller and against the hall wall, was absolutely piled with reading material.
Uncle Giles was in his usual chair, with the light behind him and the smoked glasses on his nose. Cassie was indeed at his feet, out of harness, though she lifted her head at the new people. Aunt Cammie said cheerfully, “Here’s Edmund and Miss Pen Stirling. Miss Sterling, Major Giles Lefton. And I’m Cammie Gates-Clark. Shall we be a tad more informal, or would the formality be more comfortable?”
Pen looked at Edmund, and Edmund shrugged. “Aunt Cammie is capable of formality. Mostly. When she has reason.” That got an amused snort from her. “But I’m going to be calling them aunt and uncle, and titles are rather tedious?”
“I—” Pen took a breath. “I do not wish to be rude, please.”
“In that case,” Uncle Giles spoke for the first time, and he definitely sounded amused. “We shall be Giles and Cammie when you’re ready, and begin as we might go on. If you don’t mind, tell me a little about yourself to begin? It’s easier for me with someone new.”
“Edmund mentioned that you find a description helpful.” Pen was being very deliberate, Edmund thought, and he loved that. He wanted to see those reactions, over and over, the patterns of them, whatever form of observation she might permit. Now, she was standing evenly, her hands folded like she might be about to give a recitation in class. “I am Pen Stirling, in my second year at Somerville, reading maths under Miss Sarginson. I turn twenty-five this summer, I’m of medium height for a woman at five foot three inches.” She took a breath. “Dark hair, down my back, though I wear it up in a bun. Unfashionable but practical. I’m wearing a green dress, sprigged cotton, with little white flowers. That’s a hand-me-down from my aunt, but I like it for the spring. And my academic gown over it. Commoners' gown, not scholars'. Not all of us are Edmund.”
That made Uncle Giles chuckle. “And you are brave enough to tease. Excellent, thank you. What do you think of Miss Sarginson, please? The polite version or the more accurate version, whichever you prefer. Do have a seat. Cammie, would you do something about drinks?”
Aunt Cammie nodded and went to the sideboard to start the kettle and put out cups. “Mint or we have a little black.”
“Mint, please.” Pen was prompt about that. Edmund nodded to indicate the same, and then he settled on the empty chair, hoping Pen would settle on the sofa. Pen did, spreading her skirt out a little, before she answered the question. “Miss Sarginson is quite clever, sir, of course, but what I’m interested in isn’t her particular area of expertise. We do all right, but it— it’s not quite all I hoped for.”
“With an interest in cryptography, I would not expect so. Miss Sarginson is pressing the boundaries of understanding in other areas. Something about the theory of background scatter and waveforms of various types. I haven’t read most of her recent work. It hasn’t been close enough to my interests to make it worth the time.” Uncle Giles tapped the edge of his glasses. “Some things Cammie or my valet braille for me. Some things, one of them reads out loud. Either is slower and more time-consuming than using my eyes was, so I tend to focus on more direct topics of interest.”
Aunt Cammie poured hot water into the teapot and brought the tray and mugs back to steep. “Don’t let that fool you. He certainly goes through quite a lot in the way of academic writing. What we’re curious about, however, is what you suggested in your proposal.” Aunt Cammie raised an eyebrow at Edmund.
“I am glad to excuse myself.” Edmund hesitated. “Uncle Giles and Aunt Cammie have a general sense of what I did in the war. But it would be easier not to talk around that, I expect.” He certainly hadn’t passed along what he knew about Pen’s work to them. That was for her to tell or not tell, though he had mentioned that there was some space there for discussion without impinging on anyone’s oaths. “Is it all right if I go out to the garden, Uncle Giles, or should I go find a cafe?”
“The garden.” Uncle Giles was prompt about that.
“Kenna’s nanny might bring her out in a little bit, so if that’s a bother— though, honestly, I know you know soundproofing charms— there’s a chair in the front garden too. Whichever suits.”
“Back garden it is, then. Let me know when you want me to reappear.” Edmund stood, offering a slight bow to Pen. “You too, Pen, if my being here would make the conversation easier. I just don’t think you need me for the maths bit.”
Pen blinked up at him and then shook her head slightly. “I don’t like putting you out.”
“Oh, I’ve got reading to do. I’ve always got reading.” Edmund patted the pocket of his jacket, which had a small bound book in it. “Take as much time as you like. Oh, Aunt Cammie, Pen needs to be back for hall. I don’t, but I’d like to.”
“Noted.” Aunt Cammie stood, then, to go set a timer on the desk before coming back. “Here, take your mint with you.” She promptly poured some into a mug and handed it to him. “Happy reading.”
“Always.” Edmund nodded, went out, making enough noise that Uncle Giles would know he’d gone, and went along the hall to the back garden to find the table and chairs there.
Chapter 30
That afternoon in Trellech
Pen twisted, watching Edmund leave, before turning back politely to the two adults. That was certainly how it felt, like she was still a schoolgirl, entirely untried. Major Lefton settled back in his chair as Mistress Gates-Clark poured a mug of tea. “Cup at the right, Giles.” She then settled down on the other chair, with a slight bounce, as if she wanted to always be moving. “Now, shall we begin with your idea?”
“Don’t you, erm? Want to know more about my background?”
Major Lefton waved a hand. “I did a bit of a profile. Nothing private.” He said it as if that might be a consideration. “Though honestly, knowing that Miss Sarginson is your tutor tells me most of that. And that your comments are about not being sufficiently in the same field, as opposed to not feeling you can keep up. But if it will make you feel better, mmm.” He paused, then ran Pen through three different theoretical exercises. Not doing them, of course, but how she would go about the problem. One had to do with some of the decidedly ancient history of number theory, back to the Babylonians, and what could be determined about how they did things from certain tablets. The second had to do with a logic proof.
The third he explained. Pen had to stop and blink. “Edmund spoke to you about our conversation of how many people of Albion might be known quantities, and at Oxford?”
Both Major Lefton and Mistress Gates-Clark laughed, in harmony with each other. “Oh, yes. I’m certain you’ve given it some thought, yes?”
She had. That was the thing. That made it much easier to lay out the problem, and the parts she’d done some work on. Not all of it, of course. She’d been treating it more as an amusement than anything else. When she looked up, she found both of them focused on her. “Right.” Major Lefton was brisk. “Just as I expected, quite competent. Now, tell us about your idea. If you have notes, feel free to refer to them. If you need something drawn out, Cammie will do so.” He gestured to one corner of the room, where there was a table with something on it she hadn’t paid attention to previously. “A modified sand table.”
